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One More Bump in the Road


Janel Randle


Allan McKay looked down at the dusty clock in his pickup as he bounced along the familiar dirt road. He nervously cracked his knuckles against the steering wheel, and pushed his foot down harder on the gas petal. The old truck shook as he dipped deeply in an overly worn part of the dirt road. A dozen roses and a box of chocolate sat next to him in the passenger seat. He had only one thought in his mind, today I will be on time, today I will make Jessie happy. He could see her face now when he gave her the flowers. Her deep, sad blue eyes would smile and he would pull her close to him, and kiss her, and all of her worries would just slip away. The evening sun had not yet begun to set, yes today he would be there on time, and she wouldn't have to worry about him.


He was almost to the familiar bend in the road, and just beyond that would be his house, and his beautiful wife would be waiting there. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't see the child run out in front of him. He braked hard, surrounding the truck in a cloud of dust, and stopped about 2 feet in front of the little girl who was frantically waving her arms. He jumped out of the truck and immediately scooped up the small bundle.


"Maria, I've told you not to do that anymore, it's not safe," he tried to scold, he never really could raise his voice to her.


"Luis got stuck in the fence," her high little voice came out, almost like music, "Mama doesn't know what to do." Allan smiled and tousled her dark curls. He loved this family, he even envied Maria's father, although Jose Sentillo had to work over 10 hours a day to support the young family. During the summer, he and Jessie were here as often as they were at home.


He carried Maria across the street and to their backyard. Luis had his head stuck between two wooden poles that were part of an old run down fence. The 4 year old was trying to calm his mother, who was speaking rapidly to him in Spanish, holding a squirming toddler on her hip. His brown eyes still sparkled with adventure, although he was momentarily tied down. Maria jumped down, and took the boy from her mother's arms. He stood there for a moment watching them, this was what he wanted to come home to everyday, a family so close that nobody could break them apart. Soon, he thought, counting again the days until Jessie's due date, and arriving at the same number he had every other time he'd counted that day. 47 days, almost 46.


He borrowed an old rusty saw from the Sentillo's garage, and carefully cut a hole just large enough for Luis to get his head of the fence. The dull saw cut slowly, and the boy chatted with him excitedly as he worked.


The sun had almost finished setting when he climbed back into his truck, covered in saw dust. The sunset cast all too familiar shadows on the road. His thoughts quickly turned to Jessie. She would be mad that he was late again. The chocolate had melted in the humid summer air, and the beautiful roses that he had picked out individually were beginning to wilt. But she would understand, he was sure she would. All he would need to do would be to explain things.


The house was cold and quiet when he pulled up. He imagined kids running up to greet him, a boy and a girl. They would have Jessie's deep blue eyes, and his straight brown hair. Then Jessie would come out, beautiful and happy. She would hug him, and tell him that she'd missed him. Someday, he thought longingly, as he creaked open the old front door. The sound of distant, staticky voices greeted him. Jessie was lying on the couch, watching their small black and white t.v. The table had been set, but now only one plate remained, two cold candles dotted the center of the small table. The house was uncommonly clean. He looked to the couch again.


Jessie say up, wiping tears from her beautiful face. He hated it when she cried, especially knowing that he'd caused it.


"You promised," her voice cracked pitifully. He tried quickly to figure out whether she was angry or just hurt as he planned his next words. He decided that she just looked hurt.


"I know Baby, but just let me explain, then you'll understand."


"Don't give me that!" He'd chosen the wrong one, she jumped from the couch amazingly fast for her size. "You've said that every day for the past month! Every single day! I try to understand, you're working late, sure that happens. The guys just wanted to go out for a beer, okay, you need your friends. Even when you come home drunk and pass out, I never say anything. Because you love me, and that makes everything okay. That was one thing I never doubted. Guess who called today, guess!" She was talking faster now, her words coming out in choked sobs, leaving him no time to respond. "Carla Stond. Does her name sound familiar? We had a nice long talk today."


Allan felt the color drain from his face. How dare that slut call his wife? "Jessie, honey, I'm sorry you have to know about that. It was just one night, and you were sick, and I was lonely, and she came on to me." He was mumbling now, looking for some grace in her tears.


"Well, I guess I'm not the only one worried about whether or not you'll be there when I have your child." Her words were choking her, as she tried to hold back her tears. She was trying to be sarcastic, he knew, trying to act like she wasn't hurt. "Maybe I should have listened to my dad when he said that you were nothing but a no good alcoholic." She added that just to make him mad, he knew that, he knew she was searching for a way out of her own pain. He knew she didn't mean it. But the words rang over and over in his mind anyway, trampling his pride. Deep down, he knew she was right, that was all he was. Yet, some part of him rose in denial. He was a good guy, so he'd screwed up once, so what, that happens. nobody's perfect. Just look how you've hurt the woman you love another voice screamed. He stood there, staring, silent, blank as the war went on in his head. He just needed something, anything. to drown all of those voices, and the guilt and insecurity. Suddenly, he knew that only one thing could help him.


He turned from the house and fled. He heard her cry his name as he slammed the door, and could hear her crying still as he sped along the dark dirt road. He had to drown the voices, the tears. He knew of only one thing that would help. When he got to the bar he ordered a whiskey, then another he kept going until the voices went away. Then he started thinking. How dare she talk about him like that? He was a good husband, he loved her more than anything. He provided for her, she should be thankful.


Around 2 AM he got back in his truck to go home. After wasting so much time at the bar, it was suddenly very important to see her. He didn't know why, he just knew that he must get to her as fast as he could. He must make sure that she was okay, and the baby. How could he have left her alone for so long, especially in the emotional state she was in. The sky was dark as he raced along, no moonlight fell, and the usually bright Texas sky was starless. The only light he used was the one working headlight, he reminded himself to get that other one fixed next the next time he had time. The road seemed colder and more empty than it usually did. The bumps seemed much bigger now, and there were more than he remembered there being before. When he got home he half ran, half staggered into the house. Jessie was asleep on the couch, her face still red and puffy. He went to her and kissed her softly on the forehead. When she opened her eyes he could see the pain still there. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and cried into her shoulder. She held him closely to her, and their tears mixed together. But it was only for a minutes. Soon the doorbell rang, and the heard frantic yelling outside. The ran out together to see the whole Sentillo family huddled around the outside of his truck. Well, not all of them, Maria wasn't there.


Allan looked more closely. He could still hear Maria's little voice singing like music that always calmed his soul. Yes, she was there. Flattened like a bug on the front of his truck. Yes, there had been more bumps in the road than he'd remembered.