Short Story: Lucy And The Red Car…

Short Story: Lucy And The Red Car With Diamonds

She was seventeen and life happened everywhere; a boy who smiled when she dropped her key to the bike chain, the wind in her hair when she unchained the very same bike and went for a ride, a phone call, her favorite dessert, the music she loved playing on her iPod, her favorite TV series, her friends, her naked body under the shower, her wallet carrying only what she thought was important to her, her books, her computer, her secrets - even those she hid from herself - her walls. She had walls even at that age.

That afternoon, it was autumn with leaves covering the pavement of the calm street where she lived, she pedalled her bike, controlling her own life and speed. Her fit thighs upped and downed, commanding the circle that made the wheels lead her forward. Sometimes a circle can make you feel trapped, can make you feel like you're walking around with no aim or goal like a dog chasing his own tail. But when you're bicycling it feels like adequacy, your body moving and your thoughts wandering somewhere else entirely. Lucy was free and bicycling, and she saw this woman.

She was inside a car. A red car. Doing nothing. She sat still, her head rested on the car seat, her arms hanging loose, her hands in her lap. Lucy slowed her rhythm to stare. Stare at another person for the first time. It's not that Lucy was a selfish kind or praised her own individuality so much that she couldn't see other people. It was just that she was busy - with her own activity. Her muscles were so demanding, her heart so irregular, her mind a wanderer, her age so proper. Yet now it was a point of attention, the sight of this silent woman– silent not only for the lack of words, but for the lack of something else you hear when you see someone living, in full or not– who was dead. Okay, dead is too shocking a word to refer to someone you can actually see, meaning that, at least at first, she wasn't a ghost, so let's not say she was dead… she was in standby. Like those dolls that can speak, cry and poop when they're turned on. That's it; this woman was just turned off.

Lucy approached with her bike, but when she was close enough to catch the woman's eyes, she stopped. She stopped because she was afraid. Not afraid like ‘she could be a serial killer’ or a ‘lunatic’, but afraid as in reckoning, afraid as in identifying, afraid like, when you see something which has nothing to do with you, you collect the image, the feeling and a purpose that will keep you company throughout your life. Like the time you saw your dog give birth to nine puppies or on your father's birthday with the whole family reunited and you knew you're part of something even if you felt estranged from all of them - and there are times like that -, when you see someone laughing and you don't know why, someone you notice in a restaurant, a couple you pass by and they're breaking up, an accident you unfortunately happen to witness, that beautiful sunset you'll never forget; it doesn't matter, there are these moments when life halts so you can grab something you'll eventually make sense of. Or not. But they'll stick with you. The image will blur, you'll change the colors, the time of day they happened, the season, but they'll be there, for they help you build who you are. They are the parts you don't know about yourself, to be discovered later, maybe never.

The woman started the car and drove away. And Lucy regained her life and went back to pedalling, back to circling. Her cell phone rang and she picked it up, riding her bicycle with only one hand while the other pressed the button that would allow her to listen to the voice of Kevin, the boy she cared most about at this point in her life. She said hello, but the noise her heart made, pumping so loud in her chest, along with the sight of that woman in a red car now turning a corner and vanishing, made it difficult for her to hear him say he wouldn't go out with her that night. He would hang out with his friends. What she heard was ‘I don't love you anymore,’ and she turned off the phone, relocating her other hand on the handlebar and riding as fast as she could to leave the words she heard despite the fact that they were never even spoken. At the age of seventeen, as well as at any other age, we can be tricked by our senses, our nature or our mood and transform an event, a real fact or words into something else completely. So when Kevin said ‘tonight’, she heard ‘forever’. When she glimpsed the woman in the red car she saw- even if she didn't know that yet- the depths of her soul and the stillness she'd yet have to face when she grew-up. What she didn't know – how could she? - is that life is made of walks and runs and climbs and stops and sleeps and wake ups and fast and slow. Like riding a bicycle.

When she got home, her older brother Marvin hugged her. She thought it was the first time he did so and she felt that from now on they'd be friends. He hugged her and gave her a rose. A rose bud. "Happy Birthday" he said. "You're now ready to be a woman." He kissed her cheeks and told her to get ready for they were going out for dinner. What startled her was that she'd been so taken by the rushes of that simple bike ride, that she had completely forgotten it was her birthday. Another year had passed and another was yet to come and then again one year would be finished and another would start until the day she died. And she felt the blood running through her body and heating and flushing and swinging and dancing and she forgot the woman, at least for now, and she forgot Kevin. She was too young to have someone else be more important than herself and too old to really believe she was the centre of the universe. She was just happy. She was eighteen.

Since it was a birthday dinner she should dress properly. Not too much red, though it would fit 'cause she was turning eighteen. Not too much pink ‘cause she was not a kid anymore. Black only if she was going out with friends, sexy black if it was Kevin taking her out. White was too virginal; yellow was for teens; green, good Lord, no; beige too old or too inexpressive; blue was for baby boys and so she had nothing to wear on her birthday!

She then sat on her bed and stared at her image in the mirror. The eighteen years of life, those eighteen years of experiences, weren't showing yet in her face or smile or tears. She still looked like a little girl; the two thingies wrinkling her forehead between her big eyes were the weird woman in the red car and Kevin's words on the phone. And the two should necessarily come together for they happened almost at the same time and, more importantly, on her eighteenth birthday. ‘I should wear grey.’ Grey is intermediate, inconspicuous, inodorous and since she couldn't tell who she was at this exact moment, it was better not to try and then choose the wrong color. Although that had been just a minute in her life, a brief doubt, since when she had showered under noisy soundtrack and sang along, barely two minutes over, she knew the songs she liked. So she probably knew herself. She had talked to Fabrizia, Monica, Tricia, Beverly, Cynthia, Cristina, Lindsey and some boys too before entering the bathroom, and she was so gleeful they were going to meet after dinner that grey wouldn't really match her tonight. But now, watching the seconds pass by her and trying to catch their reflex in her young face, she understood (so early for heaven's sake) that life would be off in a few blinks and when she remembered this day, this moment, if she remembered it, it would've represented something to her but would be gone. So she shouldn't let it draw more lines than the unstoppable ones to her soul. She chose a purple dress, provocative yet original, original yet dreamyish, girlish if you like.

Mr. Wilkins, her father, drove them to the restaurant. She, her brother, Marvin, and her mother, Marion, traveled in silence for a few minutes after Dad had talked to a patient of his on the cell phone, while Lucy tried to figure out whether or not she liked that her father was a doctor. She's always had the feeling of being incapable of hiding something from him, for doctors, at least the good ones, can read minds. If they know what's wrong with your body and the body is so totally connected to the brain, come on, they must know what goes on inside you. Like the day she french-kissed for the first time and got home and he told her to brush her teeth before going to bed. He'd never told her to brush her teeth before going to bed! That was her mother's job. Okay, Marion wasn't home that day. She was covering a war somewhere Lucy didn't remember now- there are always wars and her mother was a journalist, so… Anyway, her father, the doctor, must've smelt it in her aura, after she entered the house still kissing the boy in her head.

Marvin broke the silence by whispering,

"Where's Kevin?"

How disgusting can brothers be? If the boy wasn't there, if she herself hadn't mentioned him, if she hadn't answered any phone calls with a melodic ‘hey, you’, he shouldn't be asking. He was older, he should know better.

"He's off. We're off. This subject is off. Dad, what is it with your patient?"

Her father started talking about this woman suffering from a rare syndrome that made bruise marks pop up on her skin. Stress, pain or even nostalgia could be provoking the symptoms, blah, blah, blah. He went on talking, explaining, comparing, but she, Lucy, could only think she would start bruising up any moment, for she was just turning eighteen and was already taken by strange feelings and visions like that woman in the red car and all.

She put on her iPod – how rude - but it was a matter of surviving that ride and, judging from what she knew about her family, Marvin would lean over the front seat and the three of them would go on forever speaking smartly about smart things. And she wasn't that smart, she thought, so neither would they miss her remarks, nor would she be so profoundly impacted by their wit. As she had the headphones on, she thought about the song lyrics, while she watched her mother's head nod, Marvin's hands move and her father's mouth go up and down excitedly talking about medicine and cases and diseases and cures, and she was free to plan what'd she do to that crappy boyfriend of hers that waited to dump her on her birthday. What a loser! She hated him and he'd be so sorry for what he did.

When they got to the restaurant she saw Kevin at the door and a blond broad whispering in his ear and he was smiling and she hated that place from the start and asked her father to leave and when she looked at the restaurant door again, Kevin wasn't there anymore and she felt she'd die if she went in and he was kissing another girl. Marvin dragged her in and her parents followed right behind them and she cursed her eighteenth birthday until she saw all her friends and Kevin and the blond broad, who was now talking to a DJ who started a hip-hop version of "Happy Birthday." Kevin came to her and kissed her a quick one, then he cheered the rest of the Wilkins and she blushed for having a boyfriend and kissing him in front of her entire family; and friends. She was committed. She was a grown-up.

After they'd eaten and cheered with her, her parents said they'd leave and she should make that a special night for it was her only eighteenth birthday and they wanted her to remember it, for life is made of moments like that. They went away and the rest of the night she kissed, danced, screamed, and shook her sweaty body in glee and hugged her friends and when Kevin took her home, he stopped the car and looked deep into her eyes and dug in his pocket and came up with a plastic ring and shot "Wanna get hitched?"

Lucy stared at him and the plastic ring in awe. In a fraction of a second she figured she'd break his heart if she said no and would break hers if she said yes. Not that she didn't like him. No. She loved him. But she loved him as a girl loves a boy, not as a woman loves a man. She loved the kisses, the fun, the planning, the parties, the touch of his hands, his hair, his smile, his joy. No. She wasn't utilitarian for she really loved Kevin, but life is made of packages and, either you like it or not, for there's no buying one part and not taking the others. You can't choose just what you want from a relationship, a job, a dance club.

Those things were flashing in her head as Kevin started to tell their future to Lucy and he was so excited he didn't notice her silence or her not taking the ring from his hand. When he stopped to breathe a little, he finally saw her. Her big eyes letting out her tears. And she was crying because she wouldn't do it. She couldn't commit to the future right now, even the bright and shiny one he was willing to give her. She wasn't ready for herself yet. So she kissed him in tears, picked up the ring from the floor, put it back in his hand and left his car. She didn't say a word, for words are weak sometimes. She just cried. She cried in front of a man for the first time.

When Lucy barged in the kitchen at 4:27 am - well it was the night of her 18th birthday - she was still crying. She saw Mr. Wilkins with his face buried in the refrigerator. Let's call him Tom now, for the sake of intimacy, the intimacy that she, Lucy, was supposed to share with him, her father. She stared at his slim figure in pyjamas looking for something to eat, which is the same as saying something to help him ease his anguish, for when you're up at 4:27 am and you're not just arriving back from a party or getting ready to leave for work (there are people who work this early), you probably have something else going on in your head that prevents you from resting. Well, Lucy was staring at him, the tears still rolling down her face, when he closed the fridge door with a stack of bread, mayo, cheese, lettuce and ham in his hands and saw her. "I know, I shouldn't be eating at this hour, but this woman's sores, you know this new patient....." He stopped. "Hey, sweetie, you've been crying." He walked to the kitchen counter, threw his food supply on to it and came to her.

"Is Mom awake?"

He shook his head and said, "But I am."

Lucy walked past him, went to the counter, picked up the stuff he'd left there and shoved it on the table. "Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?" She sat down and started preparing two sandwiches in silence. Tom watched her carefully, waiting for the moment she'd burst again into tears, or not, for when we're young tears can erupt like a volcano and end like a faucet you turn off when you finish washing your hands or face or the dishes.

"Dad?"

"What?" He asked.

"What if Mom had turned you down when you proposed?"

"You wouldn't be here asking me."

Lucy half smiled. Her father was a smart guy.

"Yeah, I know, but, like, what do you think would've happened to you? Would you hate her? Forever? What if, later, she found out you were the one and tried to get back and, like, you were married or engaged to someone else? What if you found out that you too, like, still loved her, but didn't want to give in 'cause she hurt you, but at the same time it would be like you had the chance of being with the woman you loved but wouldn't just because she hadn't been fair in the past?"

"You know, maybe I'd have met someone nice and sweet and who I'd love. Maybe I'd have had children with this other woman. Maybe I would be happy and all. But it still wouldn't be Marion and you and Marvin. And I love you so much I wouldn't dare imagine my life without my family. But honey, life is what we make of it. Not what we think about it, not what we ask about it, not what we wish and don't go for. And typically we go for what we want. Even when we don't know it. "

"What if someone loves you to the point of asking you to live together forever and you really love him, only not to the point of answering this question?"

Tom took some time to think before answering that one, 'cause it's not something you should answer right away, with the first thing that comes to your head. Though he was a man with experience to prove his wisdom, she was not. She was a girl with wishes and vanities and a heart still too fast and bloody. If he said she'd done the right thing by saying no, since she was not sure she wanted this guy to be her man and since she was too young to be committing to life, he could be ending something so important to youngster’s doubt. But if he, on the other hand, said she should think about it and that if she came to the conclusion she really loved him she should've said yes, he'd be taking her from another very important thing for youngsters to go through, experience. Novelty, adventure, change. You can always have them in life, but they'll be different when you grow old. One should never give them up. Life is trial and error. Just as much as breathing. But, when you try what’s new when you already have your baggage- and I'm not saying it in a bad sense as in burden or sorrow- you sometimes can't help thinking of your past choices, which is dumb, 'cause you can't go back in time and do things differently, and the person you are is a result of your experiences.

"Dad! Where are you?" Lucy was so used to her father's wandering mind that she didn't even feel angry or disappointed when he vanished like this. She just stared at him and waited for his return.

"Sorry, dear. I was just wondering what would be a better answer for your question but it turns out there's not a good one. I mean, I can tell you about myself, I can tell you how I'd react and I can also tell you what I think you should do. Thing is we're talking about your life and heart, so the most I can really do for you is help you find the truth of your feelings, and by that I mean, what they are now. 'Cause I can't tell you to make any decision based on my feelings about it or even my feelings for you. I love you since you weren't even born so I really, really want the best for you. And the best for you, is you knowing who you are and what you want. If I can help you figure that out and see you grow up happy and healthy, I'll look back when I'm toothless and flabby and think I was a good father."

Lucy smiled at him. He definitely knew her. He was her father and a doctor and he really knew people. She bit on her sandwich and so did he. She poured them milk and sipped hers. Tom took his glass and drank too, a milk-moustache insisting on sticking to his upper lip. Lucy pointed and laughed. He laughed with her.

"Who's gonna fix me a sandwich?" It was Marion, standing at the kitchen door, her sleepy face smiling.

Marion pulled a chair and sat with her daughter and her husband and thought that this was one of the greatest things about having a family. Just sitting down in the middle of the night and eating and drinking with people you love. She even thought of waking Marvin up. But you don't force these things. They happen.

"You guys just waking up or not in bed yet?"

Marvin, his beautiful eyes hidden by his hands rubbing the sleep off his face, leaned on the kitchen door. If only Marion hadn't just thought of waking him up.

"Shut up, Marv. Sit down and eat," said Lucy to her brother; and what remained of her birthday night was the cozy kitchen and her family, whose members would love her, whether she'd taken Kevin's proposal or not.

When Lucy woke up the next morning and went for her bike ride, she found a piece of paper attached to the saddle. It read,

‘I shouldn’t reveal everything to you. I should keep some of my feelings a secret. But I don’t want to. I love you and that’s the way it is. If you don’t love me I’ll suffer, but I’ll understand it. I’ll have to.

I won’t wait for you. I won’t dream of you. One day I’ll love you differently. I’ll love you like I love a good memory. Still, you’re mine. You’re part of my life and I’ll write you songs and tell people about you when I’m old.

Don’t feel pressured or anything because of my words. They’ll pass. You won’t. We’ll be fine.

Kevin’

Lucy pressed the paper to her heart. He was right. They were part of each other’s lives. She wished she could love him the way he loved her. She wished her heart was full certainties and fate. She felt like she didn’t know anything. Like a child. But at the same time there was this vigour, this energy telling her she could handle it. Life.

She kept the note in her pocket and climbed on her bike. She was happy, though the thought of Kevin threw some melancholy in her heart, for, were she experienced in life, had she gone through the wild already, maybe she’d be prepared for him. For love and commitment. That is, if that’s something you have to be prepared for. If that’s not just something that happens.

When Lucy was coming back home she heard a scream. In fact she heard someone scream her name. She turned around and the red car appeared at the corner of the street, slowed down and stopped. The woman inside looked at her. She saw her eyes, and what she saw in them made her fear. Fear what she didn’t know. Yet. Her future. Her image projected ten, twenty years from now. And then the red car went away. It was the last time she’d see it. The last time she’d see that woman until she became her. Or not. For what she understood that day, right after she’d turned into a woman, was that if fear will walk side by side with you, you’d better be its friend. Hold hands with it. Be brave enough to talk to it. The woman in the red car was her, Lucy. In a life surrounded by fear. In a life surrounded not by questions, but answers.

Lucy halted her bike, took Kevin’s heart from her pocket, kissed the piece of paper. She ripped it. Into a rain of paper. She pedaled. And pedaled. And pedaled. Her heart was free. And it started to rain.