The Nothingness
The darkness engulfed the night. Even the moon and the stars were hidden from view as we barreled rapidly down the desolate, one lane road in our 2004 rusty Ford Ranger truck. A truck neither purchased or chosen by me but rather won with a royal flush and a bottle of Jack Daniels years ago by my husband, Mick. If you asked me, he didn’t win much that night but a headache and a tin can on wheels.
“Look…I’m sorry for what I said at the party. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just…I just…needed to get all of that off my chest,” Mick slurred into the dense, thick night air that hung between the two of us within the front seat of the truck. Most nights I could tolerate his drinking, but that night wasn’t one of them.
I scowled motionless out of the passenger side window and into the opaque abyss; a shock struck my spine and shot straight down to my toes at the thought of what could be lurking out in the vast sweeping void of this bitter December night. It was at that moment my head was propelled forward hitting the cold metal dashboard of the truck while at the same time a loud crash that resembled a thunderclap shook the front right-side of the truck.
Mick, while still wearing the remnants of a beat up, hand-me-down Santa suit from the party we just escaped, attempted to control the off balanced truck now raging forward recklessly towards the unforgiving and unfamiliar highway in front of us.
“What did you do?” I cried once I was able to lift my now bleeding and pounding forehead up from the trucks console.
I immediately pulled down the visor mirror above me and began to use the small light to take in the physical damage to my face. My thick long brown hair had become matted with dark red blood and a cut the size of a silver dollar was now smack dab in the middle of my forehead slowly dripping blood down the slope of my face like a leaky kitchen faucet.
“I…. I don’t know what happened,” he whispered. “One minute I was driving and the next… the next…something just ran in front of the car. I swear I didn’t hit anything!” he said as the volume of his voice began to slowly increase and morph into sheer panic.
“How would you even know what happened, Mick? I knew you drank too much tonight and now we’ve probably killed something or someone and will be forced to walk home in this god forsaken cold.” I scathed loudly across the truck.
I grasped the door handle with a tight grip and let the hollow tin door swing open letting all the warm air escape out into the cold night sky. The second my bare face met the unsympathetic and frigid temperatures I immediately began cursing Mick’s name under my breathe which left trails of smoke like vapors looming behind me as I hobbled to the front of the truck to investigate.
“Are you coming?” I yelled back over my shoulder to Mick to ensure I was not taking this walk to certain death by myself as the air had grown eerie to the point it had become unequivocally motionless.
He responded, “I’m right next to you,” which took me by surprise, but I found reassurance in his voice. Though unreliable most of the time I always find myself right back in his arms. A place of comfort I can only assume.
We could only see an inch at a time in front of us with every step we took. Eventually I stopped in my tracks and began feeling around the darkness for Mick’s hand until I felt his five fingers lock in with mine. We both stood, paralyzed, breathing slowly as we peered out ahead of us but were only met with a dark nothingness.