Speed Limit

Speed limit

Fadzlishah Johanabas Rosli

(998 words)

Prompt: Write a short story or poem about sitting in your car at a red light and someone opens the door and jumps in. Who is it and what do they want???





         It was like any other day. At best, I could say the day was slow. The radio was playing an eighties Hindi song. I didn’t know a single Hindi or Urdu word, but I could remember the tune. Took me back to the time when I was courting the wife. Ah, good times.

         I drove past a primary school – keeping my speed at less than 40 km/h, mind – and looked at the children in white-and-navy-blue uniforms. Seeing them I could not help but to think about my own children when they were little. Our house used to be filled with the music of the rascals screaming and tearing at each other’s hair. Gave the wife and me premature grey hair, but the house was now too quiet with them all grown up and left home. Just the wife and her endless TV dramas. I sighed and drove on.

         The traffic light up ahead was red. I slowed down to a stop almost a meter behind a static car. One could never be too safe, right? I hummed along to the tune of the song and waited for the light to turn green. I adjusted the alignment of the rearview mirror out of habit.

         My heart almost gave up on me when the rear door snapped opened, admitting a person who slammed it back closed. I knew my car was not moving, but this was against road safety! My fingers still on the rearview mirror, I made a sweeping study on the intruder. It was a small-framed woman about my daughter’s age. Black eye-makeup ran down her cheeks. Maybe it was the latest trend, but I doubted it. She was wearing her T-shirt inside-out. I tsked. Young people, always rushing.

         “Miss, I –”

         “Please,” she interrupted. “Help me. There’s not much time left.”

         The light turned green. There was no way I could chase her out now. I gave a heavy sigh and flicked a switch. I changed gears and lifted my foot off the brake pedal. “How can I help, miss?”

         “Drive me to the airport.”

         “But miss –”

         “Please.”

         I glanced at the rearview mirror. Her eyes were wide and brimmed with tears. She was biting her lip. Even from where I was sitting I could see her trembling. She reminded me of my daughter. How could I say no? I eased my car to the left. Not far ahead would be an onramp into the highway.

         We spent the first few minutes in silence. The only conversation happening was from the radio, where two deejays were talking some nonsense I wasn’t paying attention to. I drove in the middle lane, well under the speed limit. Once in a while I would steal glances at her. She kept staring out the window, and looking at her wristwatch once in a while.

         “Can you please drive faster?”

         I almost jumped when I noticed her leaning forward between the passenger seat and mine. “Road safety, miss,” was all I could reply.

         “I need to be at the airport in less than twenty minutes. Or it’ll be too late.” The last sentence came just above a whisper, like a deflated balloon.

         “What time is your flight?”

         “Not mine.”

         “Are you going after someone?”

         Silence. Her reflection was slumped back with a hand covering her face. She was sobbing. I reached for the square tissue box on the dashboard and offered it to her – without looking back, mind. She took the whole box with a muffled thanks.

         “My boyfriend,” she said after a few more minutes of silence. He’s leaving for New York.”

         “Working?”

         “Studying. We got into this big fight, I don’t even remember who started it. I broke off with him. I told him…” Another bout of sobs. “I told him when he returns, I won’t be waiting for him.”

         “Long distance relationship is hard,” I offered with a nod.

         “That’s what I told him!”

         “Then what are you doing chasing after him?”

         “Because of this.” She took out her hand phone and fiddled with its buttons. A male voice came out from its loudspeaker. I flicked the radio off.

         “My dearest Julia, I’m sending you this voice message because you won’t pick up the phone. By the time you hear this, I may already be in the airplane, on my way to a land of strangers. I hope you’ll play this message till the end.

         “I’d hoped the last person to wave me goodbye was you. Things didn’t seem to work out that way. But I never wanted for us to part like this, as enemies. If it’s up to me, I don’t want us to part, ever. I love you so much. I’ve always loved you. I always will, even when I come back and see you with someone else.

         “Take care of yourself. Remember to feed your hamster. I’ll always love you, I want you to know that.”

         The young lady wailed. I felt like crying myself. This was a Hindi movie come to life. I gulped deep and gave a silent prayer. I stepped on the pedal and watched as the speedometer exceeded the speed limit.

         We arrived at the airport in record time (for me). She thrust two fifty-ringgit notes at my face.

         “Sixty ringgit only, miss,” I said. I rummaged my fanny pack for change.

         “Keep it. Thank you for driving so fast.” She rushed out of the car.

         I leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door. “Miss,” I called out. She looked back. “Thank you. And good luck with your man!”

         She grinned at me and waved before disappearing beyond the revolving door.

         I sighed to myself. Young love, so full of passion. I hummed as I flicked the ‘HIRED’ light off. Maybe someone here needed a taxi ride back to town.