Tears in the Rear View

I started the car and shuddered as I flicked the indicator to the right to do a u turn. Not a good spot to be doing u turns but it was almost nine thirty at night so I should be out in a jiffy. I counted, three, four, nothing coming up the other side, after this beemer, and away.

I turned the car slowly and past the Merrion on my left, hoping beyond hope that the car would heat up quicker than usual but I knew it would be six minutes, no more, no less. The January night was cold and bleak and I was at least forty minutes from home but I was glad to be in the car and going up the canal. Traffic wouldn’t be heavy at this time of night but there were a lot of traffic lights until I got up towards Kilmainham. I felt a little silly with a beanie hat that was too big for me pulled down as far as my eyebrows, in fact I think it was resting on my glasses, but I was so cold walking to the car I couldn’t bear to take it off.

I stopped at the first set of lights. When the first set are red it’s a bad sign I thought, I’ll probably get them all now. I looked in the mirror, a girl behind me in a white Micra and hula hoop earrings was yabbering away on a mobile phone, not a care in the world. And obviously not a care for a hands free set either. I smiled to myself, if I did that, guarantee a Garda car would appear out of nowhere and I’d hear a rap on the window. Well, she wasn’t my concern now, the car was starting to heat up and I could feel the faint beginnings of hot air at my feet. The lights changed to green and I pulled off. Another glimpse in the mirror and the chattering girl behind me disappeared to the left, negotiating the turn with one hand on the wheel and never breaking stride with the conversation she was having with the phone against her ear.

I approached the next junction and lo and behold, the lights changed to red. I slowed to a standstill and pulled up the handbrake. I took this opportunity to take my hat off. I glanced in the rear view mirror as I tugged it off, my hair plastered, dry, to my head. I ran my fingers through my hair to mess it up. As I did so I noticed another girl behind me. I couldn’t make out the car. A very attractive brunette, slim, pale. Now as you know, when it’s dark you can almost always see the person in the car behind you perfectly in the rear view mirror. You can’t see the person in front, only behind. The first thing that struck me was that she was attractive. Then as I sneaked a second look I saw she was crying. Not sobbing or sniffing but crying uncontrollably. I immediately felt two conflicting urges. To stare straight ahead and wait for the lights to go green or to get out of the car and ask was she ok. The traffic lights made my mind up for me. As I pondered what to do they changed and I had no choice but to drive on. As I went through the junction I again glanced in my mirror she was still behind me. I drove slowly but not too slowly. I approached the next set of lights and I deliberately slowed down, hoping they would be red when I arrived at them. My plan worked. I looked again, if she had her indicator on I would lose her, I was going straight ahead. Or was I?

I stared at her through my mirror, the darkness masking my insensitivity. She was literally bawling, I knew by the contortions of her face the screams in that car were deafening. She searched for tissues, finding one and putting up to her eyes, trying to hide her heartache, maybe from herself.

I made a judgement call. Not to drive on, or to get out and ask was she ok. I knew why she was crying. A man did this. I don’t know what he had done, but he had done this. I had seen that face before, I had caused that face. Maybe men have an intuition too. We just don’t know how to use it. Until it’s too late.

The lights changed and I drove on.

I didn’t know if I wanted the next set of lights to be red or green. Thoughts flooded my brain about two girls I had caused to make the same face as the brunette in the car behind me. How I had hurt them, how I had made them cry. How they didn’t know that now I miss them more than they could know. That I get a pang of loss every time I see a guy my age with a young son. How I push one pillow behind my back in my bed so that it feels like another person. How I joke about how great it is to be single when I would welcome cancer more.

The heat started to irritate me and I turned it off even though I knew I’d be turning it back up again in a few minutes. As I fidgeted at the dials I looked up just in time to see the car in front of me stop. I stepped on the brake and stopped just short of hitting it. Then I felt the jolt and I jerked slightly forward. A small bang told me the tears had gotten into the crying brunettes eyes and she had went into the back of me.

I took a breath and composed myself. I wanted to be compassionate and not to lose the head, she was going through enough and I didn’t need to add to it. It was time to right some wrongs.

I got out and walked slowly towards the car. It was a white Micra. A girl jumped out with a mobile phone in one hand, still talking on it.

‘Ger, I’ll call ya back. I’m after hittin’ some bloke. Jaysus mister I’m bleedin’ sorry, I never seen ya, I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ I looked down at my feet, ‘me too.’