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LOOKING WEST, IN FEAR 

        Henry was following his son-in-law’s white Toyota which jostled over the speed bump to the exit of the Kiddie Gym parking lot when he caught a quick glimpse of the silver car, a sporty Audi, he thought, stopped at a light way up on the hill to the left.  His daughter Michelle, with her large brown eyes and a smile that Henry said could melt an iceberg, sat next to her husband, Alan. Noah, Henry’s four-year-old grandson, sat on the left in the back. It was close to dusk then, and the sun was in its inexorable descent, mercilessly baking the road. Even the usually lush maples and oaks looked wilted and the sand of Long Island’s soil was scattered along the edge of the road. Henry checked the Audi and thought that the heat waves rising from the blacktop and the setting sun behind it, made it look like it was mysteriously rising out of the road itself. Henry’s windows were closed and the AC was on high so he heard only the swoosh of the air coming out of the vents. He adjusted the one in the center to blow on him. The cold air felt good.  He watched Alan driving to the stop at the end of the lot.

Earlier, at Noah’s birthday party, Henry thought that Michelle and Alan seemed especially tired—there were dark rings under their eyes. Now he looked ahead and could see the top of Noah’s car-seat through the back window. He pictured Michelle making sure he was belted in, even though Noah who sat looking at picture books like he was a little professor, often complained that the straps were too tight. Alan waited for the traffic to pass. Henry watched an oil truck lumbering from the right followed by a motorcycle with chopped pipes and a few sedans, gray, dark blue, a rusting Mazda, a pick up with a hanging tail pipe spewing sparks. Henry looked left toward the west holding up his left hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The road appeared clear except that Henry could now see the silver car speeding out of the sunlight and bearing down the hill from the left.

Henry had enjoyed pushing Noah and his friends on the swings but felt a slight soreness in his arms after following their pleadings to push them higher and higher. He took his hands off the steering wheel to rub them.

Alan edged out into the shoulder ready to turn left then stopped—Henry thought he was waiting for the silver car to pass but then gasped in alarm to see Alan inexplicably start across the lane. The Audi moved closer. Henry felt his heart pounding. He wondered if Alan saw it. Was the sun in his eyes; had he turned to Michelle; had he turned to Noah who was always asking questions? Henry thought the Audi must have been doing at least 70.

After Noah blew out the candles, Henry had watched a little girl, leaning over to eat, being careful not to get the melting ice cream cake on her new turquoise skirt. Another little boy had a big ring of chocolate around his mouth. Henry had smiled to himself.

He was afraid to honk and distract Alan—he didn’t want him to stop—Henry watched Alan pull across in front of the Audi and willed him to go faster—get out of the way—he thought, gripping the steering wheel until his hands were white. For just a fraction of a second, Henry was a little boy tightly holding his mother’s hand near the edge of a subway platform. Someone, he never saw who, bumped into him hard and he felt one leg swing over the tracks as the train with its deafening clatter headed into the station. For that spilt second there was the terror of losing his grip on his mother’s hand, the terror of falling on the tracks in front of an oncoming train, but he immediately felt the tug of his mother’s arm pulling him away from the edge. The Audi came closer and Henry shouted, “Get out of the way,” as Alan ambled across the lane, apparently not aware of the danger Henry was witnessing. The Audi which didn’t slow at all seemed headed for the back door just where Noah was sitting. Henry pictured Noah’s brown eyes and long lashes wearing his favorite Spiderman tee shirt. He saw his smile during the party as he ran and played on the slide and in the large pit with the plastic balls. The Audi, only twenty feet from Noah’s door, was now a blur. Henry held his breath, held up his hands as if to stop the Audi, which only sped closer, then covered his ears expecting to hear the squeal of brakes and the crash of metal on metal--the destruction of his family right there in front of him. He opened his mouth to scream. For a fraction of a second he could not see his son-in-law’s car--the Audi came between him and his family. It passed just behind them. Henry slumped over the steering wheel, his shirt wet, gulping for air.  The car behind him honked for him to go.