Short Story

RESOLUTION

RESOLUTION

Glen backed out of the driveway, shifted to drive and spun the tires of his SUV on the snow covered suburban street. The doors locked with a soft thud. Linda shivered in the seat next to him, undoubtedly impatient for the heat to come on. The New Year’s Eve party was still going, but Linda had asked to leave. Glen had hoped to spend a little more time with Brandy, the party’s hostess, and suspected she was Linda’s reason for wanting out. Snow was falling fast and the illuminating cones from the headlights ended early in the onrush of white flakes. The windshield wipers gathered chunks of ice and slush that refused to lose their grip when the wipers changed direction. Glen turned on to the deserted four-lane that led home, noting the lack of fresh tire tracks.
“This must be what it’s like driving in a snow globe,” Glen said.
“You say the stupidest things.”
“Sorry, I’ll just shut up and drive.”

“Jesus, turn the heat on,” Linda said. “I’m freezing over here.”

“The engine is still cold. The blower will just blow the cold air around.”

Glen eased around a state police car on the shoulder, blue lights flashing, tending to a car down near the woods. The sideways plow marks were filling in fast. Some lucky motorist had missed a large tree and the car remained upright.

“Tough luck. Must not know the snowglobe driving rules,” Glen said.

“Maybe this weather and the driving conditions will get your mind off of Brandy.”

Glen played dumb. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Linda reached over and snapped the blower to HI. “Can’t you go a little faster?”

“Well?”

“You know what I mean. You spent the whole night going ga-ga over her. You looked like the old fool that you are. The lust in your eyes was obvious. Too bad your wife was there to spoil your fun.”

“Christ, not again. Every time we go to an event where your friend Brandy is, you accuse me of hitting on her.”

“You do, every time.”

“Oh bullshit. We were just talking.”

“If she wasn’t my friend I’d think she had something going for you too, but I know she’s smarter than that.”

“If you’re worried about it let’s just quit going over there.”

“I’m not worried. I’m just embarrassed by the way you act around her.”

Was it that obvious? She was right of course. He had it very bad and if he were a single man they would get together in a hurry. The truth would kill Linda. The stolen moments they had shared were few but intense. And it wasn’t just Glen. No, Brandy wanted it too. And the last time, tonight in the wine cellar, kissing and groping until breathless, they knew they had to get back to the party, back to their real lives.

“What were you doing so long in the basement?”

“Just picking out some wine. Please let it alone. You’re spoiling a fun evening.”

“Well, you already spoiled mine. I swear, you’re turning into a dirty old man.”

Glen felt the tires lose traction and eased off the accelerator. “She’s our friend. We have a lot in common. I enjoy talking to her. That’s all.”

“You’d screw her in a minute.”
Of course. It hadn’t happened yet, but when the time was right Glen planned to lick every inch of her body and let her lick every inch of his. He desperately wanted to wake up next to her; have her be the first thing he saw in the morning. Some day. “I couldn’t afford an affair unless you kicked and I got the insurance money. And at that point it wouldn’t be an affair.”

“What an asshole.”

“It was just a joke, for Christ’s sake. Just trying to lighten things up.”

“Well just remember this – you divorce me and you won’t have enough left to buy a pack of rubbers.”

“Divorce? You’re the only one who’s talked about getting a divorce.”

“Maybe you didn’t think fucking your secretary was grounds for a divorce.”

“Jesus, that was ten years ago. I’ve apologized a million times and I haven’t

strayed since. You never let me forget and you continue to make me pay.” Glen was looking at Linda. “Just let it go. I’m sorry for enjoying myself tonight. I’m sorry for ten years ago. I’m sorry you keep making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Watch where you’re going.” Linda put her hand on the dash.

The SUV had drifted to the shoulder and the right front tire caught a frozen rut. Glen over-corrected and put them in a slow spin across the four-lane. When he knew he had lost control, Glen tried to assume a fetal position, or as close as possible given the constraints of the steering wheel and seat belt. Linda screamed and jammed both feet against imaginary brake pedals. The car slid over the embankment and rolled like a rhino in a dust bath, flipping three times down the steep slope toward the woods. Clouds of snow puffed out and blew away. The two-ton machine slid to a stop, roof against a large oak White piping fell from outstretched limbs, disintegrating in the wind. The passenger side was on the snow.

When the vehicle came to rest Glen was suspended from the seat and shoulder belts. “Linda, are you all right?” He looked to where his wife lay in the corner formed by the seat and the passenger door. Reflected light from the still shining headlights illuminated the interior. A travel mug rolled to a stop on the glass next to her face. Glen found the ignition key and shut off the idling motor.

Glen was not injured and twisted his body to unsnap his seat belt. He wiggled upright which put his butt on the console and his feet in Linda’s lap. His upper back was against the driver’s side window. “Oh God, Linda.” She was not moving and blood trickled from her mouth – a bitten tongue. Glen could hear her breathing steady. He reached down and put his fingers to her neck. A strong pulse; she was just unconscious, the result of her head banging several times against the window.

What to do. Glen sat for a moment, catching his breath, letting his heart return to normal. An argument in a snowstorm and now look what her shit got us into. Glen reached behind him and found the door handle. He pulled the handle and pushed against the door with his upper back, but stopped when he realized his feet were on Linda’s stomach.

Glen stared at Linda, then to the snowstorm. He turned the ignition key on and stared at the green numerals on the clock. One-oh-two. It was late and the car was cold and getting colder. He wished he were back at the party, back in the wine cellar actually. Back in that impassioned embrace that promised so much. Glen looked up toward the highway. No lights. This was a rare opportunity, and he was afraid. But it was, after all, New Year’s Day – time for resolutions, new beginnings, an improved life. It was now or never.

Glen gingerly placed his left heel on Linda’s stomach, just below her sternum. He increased the pressure then decided he did not want to leave an imprint on her skin. Forensics had gotten so good lately. He reached down, lifted a heavy rubber floormat, and placed it across Linda’s stomach, just below her breasts. He put his heel on the mat, and with all the strength in his coiled body, he pushed his heel into the mat. Linda groaned softly. More pressure. The window was cold on his back. How long can someone live with no oxygen? Three minutes? No, he would wait four minutes. Four minutes would do it. One-oh-three. Only a minute. Christ, clock, keep moving. He felt Linda move and pressed even harder. He thought the window behind him might pop out. One-oh-four. His heart was back to racing. He began to formulate his story. After the crash, he struggled to free himself from the belt. He could see Linda was hurt and she didn’t appear to be breathing. He tried to find a pulse but couldn’t. He tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but it did not work. One-oh-five. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to sixty. One-oh-six. Thirty more seconds - just to be sure.

Ever so slowly he relaxed and listened. Silence - no breathing except for his own short gasps. He looked down where Linda now lay dead, eyes open in sightless surprise. It had to look like he tried to save her. He reached down and smeared Linda’s mouth with her own blood then smeared his mouth with the same. He threw the floor mat to the back of the car. With his elbow he struck the window behind him with the force of a desperate man. It bulged out, shattered glass falling on his back. He took a handful and ground it into his scalp until blood came and turned his hair into a sticky mess. Just in time. Flashing blue against the trees signaled the arrival of the police. Glen pushed open the door. He crawled out, the heavy door scraping along his back, and he fell into the snow. He began to stand but thought better of it. Instead, he collapsed to the ground and began to crawl toward the bobbing flashlight beam.