Turn Around

I was driving down a lonely black road in my black Mitsubishi Mirage. My hands gripped the steering well loosely as I read the speedometer on the dashboard. I was only going about 50 miles per hour.

I had turned off the radio a few minutes ago after hearing too many romantic tunes. It made me sick to my stomach. I sighed and decided to pull over to the side of the road. I took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car.

Looking around, I saw nothing but desert. I wiped droplets of sweat off my face after feeling the intense heat of the environment. Now was a good time more than ever to take a little break from driving. I reached into the pocket of my blue denim jeans, and out came a cigarette box. I put a cigarette in my mouth, pulling out a lighter at the same time. I lit the cigarette up and I took a short smoke break.

During my little break, I thought about why I was driving down this road. I thought about the fact that the road was dark and lonely. Why was I driving, anyways? As a matter of fact, was it really worth it? Was it worth running away?

All I could remember was that face. That face of anger. It was a face that made me feel more awful every time I thought about it.

It was just an hour ago that I was talking with my wife in our simple apartment. There was no special carpentry, and the floor was dirty. The walls had faded white paint, and there was some crayon coloring on the wall.

I had just gotten back from a tough day at work, but when I walked in to greet the love of my life, all I got was the sound of crying.

My wife was holding our little baby girl in her arms, trying to get her to calm down. I was baffled by the look on her face. It was a look of fury, yes, but I did not understand why she was furious.
The first thing she said to me was, “Where have you been?!”

I did not bother to take off my coat when I walked up to her. All I did was answer her question. “I just went to work, made it through the whole day, then I came back here.”

“Don’t you give me that nonsense,” she said. “I called you at work and on your cell phone, and you didn’t pick up! Where were you?”

I looked into her eyes. She could see right through me. That was one of her greatest assets, and one of my biggest disadvantages. In defeat, I reached inside my coat pocket and pulled out a little box of cigarettes. It was Marlboro, one of my favorite brands. The box was open, and so were my wife’s eyes at the very moment she caught a glimpse of the box.

I did not anticipate her to slap the box out of my hand, nor did I anticipate her words afterwards. “I thought you had given up smoking after we had our baby! Now, you go to the store and get more cigarettes? What is wrong with you?!”

I could not take this sitting down. I yelled back, “What is your problem?! I just wanted to get something to calm my stress down, and now you come in all crazy over the fact that I just wanted to buy something for myself for a change!”

“You promised you would stop smoking after the baby was born, and you never answered my calls!”

“My phone was on vibrate, sweetie. I did not hear it.”

“You always leave your phone at the highest volume so you can hear the ringtone clearly! Don’t give me more lies.”

I looked at her in silence, just staring at her. I was astonished by her attitude. She didn’t trust me now.

“I wasn’t lying, but if that’s how you feel, fine. I’m going out for a few. Don’t ask when I’ll be back.” I bent over and picked up the cigarette box, put it back in my pocket, turned around quietly, and walked over to the front door. I slammed the door behind me, leaving everything behind. I didn’t even hear her pleas for me to come back.

And here I am. In the middle of nowhere, taking a smoke break, and not thinking of anything else but how crazy I was back there. Maybe she overreacted, and maybe she would apologize for her actions.

I got back inside my car and put the key in the ignition. Once I started the engine, I made a sharp U-turn, making my way back to the apartment.

I might as well apologize for what I said, and then maybe she’ll forgive me.

Maybe.