conte [issue one - MAY DAY] - Closer Than They Appear

The car’s at about thirty degrees now and I’m thinking about what a waste my whole life has been. I tap the brake and I want to turn the wheel all the way, but I can’t remember if you’re supposed to turn into a skid or out of a skid and I’m wondering if it’s like how you’re supposed to turn the wheel if you’re parking downhill versus how you’re supposed to turn the wheel if you’re parking uphill, and you’d think this would be one of those things they make sure you know before they give you a license, you’d think this would be one of those things they hammer into you. I’m thinking that you’d think this would be one of those things where they grab you by the ears and shout in your face, TURN INTO A SKID BECAUSE IF YOU TURN OUT OF A SKID EVERYONE WILL DIE AND GO TO HELL! I can vaguely hear the soft noises the tires are making as they scrape across the ice and the sound of the wind speeding all around me, but I’m thinking about something else now. I’m thinking about how great it’s going to be to see the look on Danny’s face when I give him his surprise and I’m thinking that it’s funny how you can build a timeline of our whole relationship using only his various facial expressions: his beautiful smile for the beginning of things, that lost and slightly worried look for the time leading up to and the time following our wedding, and the angry, silent, purposeful sulk that seemed to disappear when I told him I was pregnant. And you can cap everything off with that lying smile of his. You can use that to cover the time when he acted like everything was fine again, like everything was perfect, the way I knew it was going to be once the baby came, while he was sneaking around behind my back and setting up his new house where he was going to go to start his new life without me. It’s funny now, though, because while his face was hiding the facts, it was me who wasn’t facing up to the facts. It was me who wasn’t admitting to herself the size, the scope, even the nature of the problem that had crept into our life. It’s funny now and, I don’t know why I’m thinking about this right now, Mr. Garfunkel, but I think I get part of it now. Something happened in Miami. Something that could have been anything, but something that was most likely another woman. Some whore. That’s what it was, I think as I watch the snow sliding across the windshield, sliding to the right and melting as it goes. It was some whore he was with because...

The wind has become a high-pitched whistle.

I don’t know. I thought I saw it clearly, but I don’t know. It’s gone now. It wasn’t as close as it appeared, I think and the thought makes me giggle but my voice sounds like Melanie’s and it startles me because I haven’t heard her voice in days, not since Judge Green gave Danny custody and the son of a bitch got what he wanted because he’s so self-righteous and because he lied to the judge, lied about me, me, ME, he lied about. I didn’t do any of those things and it kills me that he would make that kind of thing up because he knew I would never do anything to hurt our little good girl. I would never hurt our little princess. Our little princess. Our little perfect princess. Snow. There’s snow, perfect little princess. Can you see the snow? The distant bad phantom feeling I had that night after he got home from Miami turned out to be closer than it appeared and now I have to get across this overpass and go to Danny’s new house and turn my daughter over to the fucking retarded jerk and when I do, I’m going to say, “You got what you wanted, you asshole. Are you happy, now? I hope you’re happy.”

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