Musemuggers
Title: The Rearview
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 583
Prompt: “remember July”
A/N: Written for musemuggers.
The sun was just beginning to clear the horizon as they crossed the state line. Jimmy flexed his fingers around the steering wheel and reached for the water bottle. He could tell by its easy heft in his hand that there was nothing left.
“Dad?” Maddie stirred in the backseat. “Are we there yet?”
Jimmy didn’t take his eyes from the road. “No, baby, not yet. Almost.”
“That’s what you said last night,” Maddie said. “Can I unbuckle?”
“No!” Jimmy said, sharper than he’d intended. Then, softer, “It won’t be too long now. Promise.”
Maddie shifted. “Can I have a drink?”
“We’re out,” he said, hating the sound of his own voice in the cramped confines of the old Dodge.
“But I’m thirsty!”
He didn’t answer.
Maddie kicked the back of the seat, but the tic in the engine had grown more pronounced since they’d left Tuscaloosa and he barely felt her feet over the rattle that had begun to shake the whole car. Jimmy eased off the accelerator and merged into the middle lane. He had to make this tank of gas last all the way. He tried the radio, but there was only static. He twisted the knob and turned it off again.
“Do you know any stories?” she asked.
“No,”Jimmy said.
“Mama used to tell me stories all the time,” Maddie said.
Jimmy clenched his teeth to quell the stab in his chest. “Your Mama ain’t here.”
Maddie sniffled.
A few more cars passed them. Jimmy swallowed. “I reckon I can think of one. I remember the July you were born was the hottest summer on record. Your mama was waitin’ on you to to be born, and she was mighty uncomfortable. She couldn’t sit down or go to bed; she just had to wander. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and her side of the bed would be empty and I’d know she was out walking somewhere. One night I got to worrying, and I went out see if she was all right. I found her in the tall grass in her bare feet, surrounded by lightning bugs. The hot summers are the best for that, you know. And to this day I never saw a prettier sight in my life as your mama out there in the dark, glowing and happy with little lights all around her. She had such a smile on her face, I’ll never forget it. No, sir, I don’t think I ever will.” Jimmy ignored the ever-present ache in his throat that meant tears.
Maddie stopped kicking. “Mama used to tell me fairy tales. I have a book she gave me. Do you think when we get to the new house you could read me some like she did?”
Jimmy blinked. “Baby, I don’t think anybody can read them like your mama could. Maybe you can read them to me while we drive? We’re going to keep going until we find a place that looks like home to me, and I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”
“Okay.” Maddie flipped some pages and cleared her throat. “Once upon a time ...”
The highway stretched out like a concrete river. Jimmy checked the rearview, but there was no one there, even though he kept seeing a shadow behind them. He relaxed into the sound of his daughter’s voice and knew that home was just ahead, a turn in the next bend that he couldn’t quite see yet.
He kept driving.
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 583
Prompt: “remember July”
A/N: Written for musemuggers.
The sun was just beginning to clear the horizon as they crossed the state line. Jimmy flexed his fingers around the steering wheel and reached for the water bottle. He could tell by its easy heft in his hand that there was nothing left.
“Dad?” Maddie stirred in the backseat. “Are we there yet?”
Jimmy didn’t take his eyes from the road. “No, baby, not yet. Almost.”
“That’s what you said last night,” Maddie said. “Can I unbuckle?”
“No!” Jimmy said, sharper than he’d intended. Then, softer, “It won’t be too long now. Promise.”
Maddie shifted. “Can I have a drink?”
“We’re out,” he said, hating the sound of his own voice in the cramped confines of the old Dodge.
“But I’m thirsty!”
He didn’t answer.
Maddie kicked the back of the seat, but the tic in the engine had grown more pronounced since they’d left Tuscaloosa and he barely felt her feet over the rattle that had begun to shake the whole car. Jimmy eased off the accelerator and merged into the middle lane. He had to make this tank of gas last all the way. He tried the radio, but there was only static. He twisted the knob and turned it off again.
“Do you know any stories?” she asked.
“No,”Jimmy said.
“Mama used to tell me stories all the time,” Maddie said.
Jimmy clenched his teeth to quell the stab in his chest. “Your Mama ain’t here.”
Maddie sniffled.
A few more cars passed them. Jimmy swallowed. “I reckon I can think of one. I remember the July you were born was the hottest summer on record. Your mama was waitin’ on you to to be born, and she was mighty uncomfortable. She couldn’t sit down or go to bed; she just had to wander. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and her side of the bed would be empty and I’d know she was out walking somewhere. One night I got to worrying, and I went out see if she was all right. I found her in the tall grass in her bare feet, surrounded by lightning bugs. The hot summers are the best for that, you know. And to this day I never saw a prettier sight in my life as your mama out there in the dark, glowing and happy with little lights all around her. She had such a smile on her face, I’ll never forget it. No, sir, I don’t think I ever will.” Jimmy ignored the ever-present ache in his throat that meant tears.
Maddie stopped kicking. “Mama used to tell me fairy tales. I have a book she gave me. Do you think when we get to the new house you could read me some like she did?”
Jimmy blinked. “Baby, I don’t think anybody can read them like your mama could. Maybe you can read them to me while we drive? We’re going to keep going until we find a place that looks like home to me, and I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”
“Okay.” Maddie flipped some pages and cleared her throat. “Once upon a time ...”
The highway stretched out like a concrete river. Jimmy checked the rearview, but there was no one there, even though he kept seeing a shadow behind them. He relaxed into the sound of his daughter’s voice and knew that home was just ahead, a turn in the next bend that he couldn’t quite see yet.
He kept driving.