trees are dense and the street lights are far and few between. I hope I don’t pass this guy’s house. I look across Dawn at Darren. He’s got his head resting against the window and drool is dripping down his chin. Just great.
Twenty minutes later my high beams land on a yellow house. As I pull up closer I see a mailbox at the side of the road, 1252. Oh, thank goodness. I release a sigh of relief. I pull up the long driveway as close to the front door of the house as I can get. As I reach the end of the driveway a middle-aged gentleman with graying brown hair steps out of the front door. I put the truck in park and hop out.
“Is my boy drunk again?” the man greets me, obviously agitated. He sighs running his hand over his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s no fault of yours. I appreciate you bringing him home safely.”
“I’m sorry, Mister?” I pause in askance.
“Miller. James Miller,” he replies holding out his hand. I take his proffered hand, shaking it.
“I’m Skye Williams. My sister, Dawn had her twenty-first birthday party tonight and they had a few too many drinks. Jason, the owner of Acorn Groves Bar & Grill suggested I take Darren home and he gave me the directions,” I explain to Mr. Miller.
“Jason Greene always has been a stand-up guy,” he comments, more to himself than to me. “So you’re the new Williams sister the towns been buzzing about? About broke Hailey Weaver’s nose against the bar the other night, if the rumors are true,” he remarks.
“It’s not what is sound like,” I start to explain.
“Oh, I’m sure she had it coming. She’s not used to having viable competition and you’re just a pretty as they said you were,” he compliments making me blush with embarrassment.
Mr. Miller walks over to the passenger side of the truck and snatches the door open. Darren comes tumbling out into the snow covered ground. James Miller shows no sympathy and bends over grabbing Darren by the ear. “Get up boy. What did I tell you about coming home pissy drunk? As long as you live under my roof you will conduct yourself accordingly,” he says to his son who has become a little soberer as he’s dragged into the house by his ear. I hop back into the truck out of the blistering cold. I’m ready to head back to town and drop Dawn off at home with Mom and Grandma Rose.
“Skye, where are we?” Dawn asks groggily, eyes half open.
“In the middle of B.F.E. dropping off your friend Darren,” I reply. She giggles.
“Yeah, he does live in the middle of nowhere,” is her response, as she drops her head back on my shoulder. “I’m sorry Skye. You know I love you, right?” she says, slurring her words.
“Yeah, sweetie. I know,” I tell her and kiss her on the top of her honey blond head.
I’m still pretty far outside of town when I see a pair of headlights behind me quickly gaining ground. What is this person’s rush? I hope it’s not a drunk driver. I slow down preparing to let the speeding SUV pass me by. I jerk forward violently against the seat belt and Dawns face slams against my shoulder as the SUV slams into the back of us. My hands grip the wheel in a panic as I check my rear view mirror. What the hell? I no longer see the black vehicle behind me, but I see its high beams in my driver’s side view mirror blinding me. I honk my horn, in case, against all odds, the driver hit me by accident because they couldn’t see me. The SUV swerves suddenly to the right sideswiping me. Oh, they see me alright. They’re trying to run me off the road.
Dawn has quickly sobered up and is crying hysterically holding her hand over her busted lip. I look ahead and see one of the smaller bridges we crossed on our way out here. It crosses over a wide but shallow stream.
Think Skye think. You’ve been trained in defensive driving tactics. What do you do? I pound my hand against my head
Twenty minutes later my high beams land on a yellow house. As I pull up closer I see a mailbox at the side of the road, 1252. Oh, thank goodness. I release a sigh of relief. I pull up the long driveway as close to the front door of the house as I can get. As I reach the end of the driveway a middle-aged gentleman with graying brown hair steps out of the front door. I put the truck in park and hop out.
“Is my boy drunk again?” the man greets me, obviously agitated. He sighs running his hand over his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s no fault of yours. I appreciate you bringing him home safely.”
“I’m sorry, Mister?” I pause in askance.
“Miller. James Miller,” he replies holding out his hand. I take his proffered hand, shaking it.
“I’m Skye Williams. My sister, Dawn had her twenty-first birthday party tonight and they had a few too many drinks. Jason, the owner of Acorn Groves Bar & Grill suggested I take Darren home and he gave me the directions,” I explain to Mr. Miller.
“Jason Greene always has been a stand-up guy,” he comments, more to himself than to me. “So you’re the new Williams sister the towns been buzzing about? About broke Hailey Weaver’s nose against the bar the other night, if the rumors are true,” he remarks.
“It’s not what is sound like,” I start to explain.
“Oh, I’m sure she had it coming. She’s not used to having viable competition and you’re just a pretty as they said you were,” he compliments making me blush with embarrassment.
Mr. Miller walks over to the passenger side of the truck and snatches the door open. Darren comes tumbling out into the snow covered ground. James Miller shows no sympathy and bends over grabbing Darren by the ear. “Get up boy. What did I tell you about coming home pissy drunk? As long as you live under my roof you will conduct yourself accordingly,” he says to his son who has become a little soberer as he’s dragged into the house by his ear. I hop back into the truck out of the blistering cold. I’m ready to head back to town and drop Dawn off at home with Mom and Grandma Rose.
“Skye, where are we?” Dawn asks groggily, eyes half open.
“In the middle of B.F.E. dropping off your friend Darren,” I reply. She giggles.
“Yeah, he does live in the middle of nowhere,” is her response, as she drops her head back on my shoulder. “I’m sorry Skye. You know I love you, right?” she says, slurring her words.
“Yeah, sweetie. I know,” I tell her and kiss her on the top of her honey blond head.
I’m still pretty far outside of town when I see a pair of headlights behind me quickly gaining ground. What is this person’s rush? I hope it’s not a drunk driver. I slow down preparing to let the speeding SUV pass me by. I jerk forward violently against the seat belt and Dawns face slams against my shoulder as the SUV slams into the back of us. My hands grip the wheel in a panic as I check my rear view mirror. What the hell? I no longer see the black vehicle behind me, but I see its high beams in my driver’s side view mirror blinding me. I honk my horn, in case, against all odds, the driver hit me by accident because they couldn’t see me. The SUV swerves suddenly to the right sideswiping me. Oh, they see me alright. They’re trying to run me off the road.
Dawn has quickly sobered up and is crying hysterically holding her hand over her busted lip. I look ahead and see one of the smaller bridges we crossed on our way out here. It crosses over a wide but shallow stream.
Think Skye think. You’ve been trained in defensive driving tactics. What do you do? I pound my hand against my head
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