Intersection

The darkness surrounding me was thick and heavy. I was just a kid, a teenager. Like most of my life, I couldn’t tell where I was. I was in the middle of an intersection. There was a field across from the intersection and before the field was a tall telephone pole. Then all around me was a 4-way stop. It was odd, though. As I strained to see anything down each path of roadway, there was nothing but darkness. The 4-way cross that I stood inside of had no lines painted, no signs hanging, no indication of which way was the right way to go. I began to sweat. My hands were trembling. My heart pounding. I knew I needed to make a decision, but I’d forgotten what the question was.

Then there was a light. Small at first. Just a flicker. In the heavy darkness it was easy to see. I stared at it. I watched it float toward me. It was miles away. Then the sound came. Something like tires on pavement. The light was growing.

I tried to step aside and get out of the way, but something held my feet to the asphalt. I pulled at my feet to lift them. Nothing worked. My frantic eyes snapped from my feet to the lights and then back. Over and over. I strained to see who it was, what it was, but it was too far away, too dark. There was still only the sound of tires on pavement, and I could see the lights swaying just a bit.

Why wasn’t he slowing down? He was coming faster, closer. Didn’t he see me? Didn’t he know I was standing there in this intersection, and I couldn’t make the decision of which way to go? I’d been here for a long, long time. My whole life even. Every direction I looked there were no indicators as to which way I should go. I wanted to. I wanted to take a road, but I didn’t want it to be the wrong one.

The fear and pain grew deeper as I looked from the fast-approaching lights to the roads ahead of me. The more I stood there the more painful it got. I didn’t even know where the pain was coming from. My feet? No. My legs? No. It was deep. So very deep. I discovered it was way down inside me. It was of my own creation. Why was I hurting so bad? I felt ashamed that I had come to this place and couldn’t determine which way to go. I didn’t want my decision to hurt anyone else, but I couldn’t stay there. The pain, the shame, the emptiness was getting stronger and deeper. I could almost feel nothing else.

The light became two beams. I heard the engine roaring from the lights now. I glanced up and again tried to move my feet. The engine revved again and this time it was familiar. I could pick that noise out of a line-up. I knew who it was, but it couldn’t be. It was almost on top of me. I couldn’t move my feet, so I clenched my fists. I drew my shoulders inward. Braced for impact.

It would have been nice if the radiance of the lights before me would have warmed me, but the fear and shame inside me had washed me with a cold that drove deep into my bones. I was ready for it. I stood firm. Might as well. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t move away from it. I couldn’t do anything.

The sound of the lights grew louder.  Red bled into the lights. I still couldn’t see the driver, but hope leapt in my chest.  

I glanced at the telephone pole in front of the field. At that last heartbeat there was a flash and I was no longer in the intersection. I was in a haze. I heard metal crunching but didn’t know where I was. I opened my eyes. My hands were on the steering wheel. I lifted them slowly. I was in shock for a moment.

I raised my head and the landscape hit me with a familiarity that almost sent me into an episode of vertigo. I was fourteen.

“Bring it around down the alley. You think you can do that without killing anyone?” he looked at me and smiled with that shit-eating grin he always had.

I nodded and smiled back. “Yes, dad.”

I walked up to the old, red Ford and reached for the handle. I was short and small for my age, so I had to really pull. After two yanks, the door opened with a groan. I hopped up inside and closed the door back. I took the moment in. I’d never driven my dad’s truck without him being with me before. It was old. You could feel the strength of it compared to mom’s newer car. I bounced a couple times in the seat to stretch and reach the pedals. I looked at my dad then out the windshield.

“What are you waiting for? It won’t start itself,” my dad snickered and turned and went around to the back of the house we were there to paint.

I glanced at him then turned the key. It roared to life. I listened to it for a moment. I always loved that sound. I revved it for good measure. My heart was a drum, equal parts fear and excitement. The wheel was bigger than my torso; the truck felt like a beast I was only half ready to tame. All I had to do was turn left and slip into the alley behind the C Street house. A short, simple move. I told myself I had it.

Then the truck hit a hump where the road gave way to the alley. The jolt wrenched the wheel from my hands. For a second the world narrowed to the front grille and a looming telephone pole. The truck kissed the pole with a metallic, gutting thud and came to a sudden, shuddering stop. I froze, every bad thought rushing in at once. He’ll be so disappointed. He’ll never trust me again. He’ll never let me drive.

Before I could even think of what to say, my dad was there. The door flung open, paint on his hands, the look of a man who had seen worse but didn’t show it. I braced for fury. Instead, he asked, blunt and steady, “Are you okay?” He looked me over, held the door open, and when I nodded, he said, without drama, “Well, start her back up and get her over to the house, but this time go around the telephone pole.” He snickered, closed the door, and left me sitting in the cab, stunned and slowly calming.

I sat there for just a moment as I let everything wash away. I watched my dad as he walked back down the alley and up to the house we were working on. Then my thoughts went back to my original fears. My decisions. Would he be proud? Would he be disappointed? Or would he be furious?

There was another flash. I was back at the intersection. The 4-way stop. I was watching the headlights get closer, the engine get louder. I braced for impact because I hadn’t made a decision yet. Which way should I go? I had only a moment but somehow it was as if it were a lifetime and it was… it really was.

I was able to look up at the intersection again. There was something there now that wasn’t there before. At each road there were signs. I could only read three of them. One was so blurry I couldn’t make out the message.

One read: SIN. Another read: ABOMINATION. Another read: SILENCE. The fourth one was blurry until the headlights hit it, and I could make it out: SHAME. Those were the four options. I didn’t want any of those. The thought came through for just a flash: Just let the truck hit me. For a moment I didn’t fight. I just turned toward the lights and closed my eyes.

I watched my dad walk down that alley again. I watched his smile. I heard his snicker. I longed for it. I so wanted to ask him. Would you love me, anyway? Would you accept me, anyway? Would you believe in me, anyway? Tears began to drop down my face as I saw in the theater of my mind, my father nodding his head and smiling at me from the house on C Street. I heard him repeat to me, “Son, go around the pole.” I heard it over and over again. Until it sank in. My eyes snapped open and I looked at the signs, then the 4-way stop, then the headlights, then the dark roads before me. Then I looked at the field across the road away from all four paths. From where I was standing it was dark and looked like high weeds, brush, thorns, and heavy overgrowth. Didn’t look like an easy path, but to get to it I had to go around the telephone pole. I looked at the lights again then the 4-way. I looked at the lights and smiled. I gave the truck a nod. And my feet lifted off the pavement.

As soon as I realized I was free, I bolted for the field. The truck kept coming, but now I was standing at the telephone pole. I watched as the truck zoomed by and the driver waved with a laugh. I only saw a hand, but I knew that hand. I knew that snicker. I smiled and turned to the dark field before me. It looked treacherous, but I knew it was the only direction to go. As I stepped into it the pain and emptiness eased only a bit. Each step was weary, but the pain lifted a bit more. I realized the warm feeling was growing so I started running. As I got deeper into the high grass and the thorns, I realized the land was flat, the grass was thinning, the thorns were disappearing. The terrain was becoming easier and easier. The field opened to a spring of water, and I could see a little bit of bright light ahead. I pressed forward until I was enveloped with the warmth of sunlight. I turned around and the telephone pole and intersection were so far away I couldn’t even make it out. The road signs were nothing now. I nodded to nothing and smiled, “Thanks, dad.” I turned and walked into the sunlight.