Page 35 of Ewan

Like now.

I’m freezing my ass off, my fingers stiff on the bottle of wine as I try to turn the engine on again.

“Please don’t do this to me,” I mutter, tucking the bottle of wine in the back––it will arrive perfectly chilled at my place if things go slowly like this––and returning my focus to my vehicle.

Someone explained to me that a car might not start in cold weather because the oil thickens or the battery output is bad.

There could be other causes, but I’m not a mechanic.

I bought this car five years ago. It had a lot of mileage and a few problems.

It was cheap, and I loved it.

I should get a new one, but as crappy as it might be, this piece of metal comes with a big plus. It’s paid off. I don’t have to worry about the car payments. Plus, the insurance is cheaper. Although, I could always sell it for scrap.

Decisions, decisions.

Miraculously, the engine starts, and before long, a semblance of heat wafts from the heater. It’s not enough to take my jacket off––what a stupid idea to come to the party dressed like this––but it’s enough to defrost the windshield and not feel like a popsicle by the time I get home.

Slowly, I veer away, not trusting it at all. The engine doesn’t purr as it usually does. It sounds like it has a bad case of pneumonia.

Please don’t let this be the day when I'm left stranded in the middle of the road.

I glance at the clock on the dashboard.

Ten minutes past nine. It’s dark, and a sprinkle of snow flows across my headlights.

It’s slowly moving, and I let free a long exhale, turning my focus to this evening. I’m happy that things worked out in the end.

Monday, I’ll call Elisa.

Tomorrow or Sunday evening, I’ll call Maria.

I need a break from all this. And the break is near.

Twenty-two more minutes without a major traffic delay, and I could roll into my driveway.

I learned to love my place. Despite the hate and love relationship I had with it after my mother’s death and my divorce, I realized having a roof above your head is a big deal.

Oops.

What was that? My car shook a little. Like someone startled it. Please don’t get startled. I just reached the main road.

The woods split on either side of the street, and I’m still far from the first buildings, houses, or the gas station, where I usually fill up my tank when I’m in the area.

They’re all about ten minutes away.

This is a two-way street, but as far as I look, it’s only the shaft of light coming from my car and the big old trees having their branches draped in snow.

If my car breaks down here…

“I don’t even want to think about it,” I murmur to myself, stepping on gas.

My car shakes again. There’s definitely something wrong with it, which only makes me press the gas pedal even harder.

Luckily, the car picks up speed, and I pay extra attention to the road. If it’s not the car engine, it can be a deer or a patch of…

I haven't even finished my thought, and my tires hit a patch of ice. The steering wheel yanks out of my grip, and panic swirls inside my head.

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