picture circa 2004I had just walked a fast twenty paces out of the Pittsburgh Mills Hot Topic (I had to work there for two days of that week) pushing my phone up to look for voicemails from my mother or texts from Brittany; I was right on both. I listened to my mom's message, something about how to drive home and I press 7; delete. I find my inbox and open up Britt's text: I make the most unnatural gasp/scream any person should ever need to.
"Did you hear about alia. she was killed in a car accident on 422 today :-(
4:05 PM WED, May 28
Heads turned; I ran.
I won't lie, we had grainy, rough, scratchy patches; more or less orchestrated out of unfortunate situations now forgotten. There was no bump or grind we could not smooth over; we had a Pendot street paver larger than my house; unstoppable. As it were a long ride, we took turns at the wheel. If it her's, she would be next to me pushing a fruity sugar-filled skittle in front of my damp sullen eyes forced on by stresses; also my mental instability and lack of Hoover Dam controlling my tearducts. We took fair turns. It normally took me a week to figure out how, but through much (unneeded) thought and built up (also unneeded) courage, my shaking fingers would plunge toward the keys befitting of the words I had pondered far too long. All fears and awaiting reprecussions were never realized. There was no pot-hole we would not or could not ramp.
So on this long ride together we shared experiences and stories about our times. The night she called me and told me about that foul boy she had kissed, and I told her how he had pursued me just a year earlier in gym class; and that he was foul. Chatting for over two hours; the chatter containing nothing truely important rather than the words of friends. Times where we would "meh" loudly back and forth; distrubed glances soon to follow. Personally, we found there to be nothing wrong with making goat noises on all occassions. It was a celebration of our goat freedom; unfortunately, we were not goats. Times like these, we would say, were some of the best of our lives.
Our stories made the ride easier. Our long ride has been fun, but for a bit, she may have to take the wheel alone. I am sure it will be an enjoyable ride; you see, once situations change, our monstrous Pendot paver is a vintage '67 jet black mustang convertable. (I've always wanted one, but I will have to wait.) I am also sure that Penny, my late dog I remember she loved, may join her and keep good company. Until then; I will miss you.
Bonnie
