Wrong Direction

Another Thursday offering for your viewing pleasure.

“Matilda’s graduation party awaits.” I rolled my eyes as I reached for the doorknob.

“That’s nice, dear. Have fun.” With eyes still trained on her knitting, my mother waved me out the door.

I sighed and pulled my keys from my pocket. My mother’s constant need to know my exact location and activities could have kept me from feeling obligated to go out on such a terrible night, but her knitting enthralled her. As I opened the door, cold air wafted past me. Rain poured down in sheets that caused the world outside to twist and waver. I hesitated.

“Jane, close the door. It’s cold out there.” My mother still didn’t bother to look up from the scarf forming on her lap.

I stepped out into the chilly night air, pulling the door closed with an unsatisfying thud. Quick footsteps brought me to the edge of the porch as another gust of wind caught the pouring rain and showered it across my face. I raced down the stairs and across the river running down the asphalt driveway.

I barely gave myself time to open the door before squeezing though the opening. Wiping beads of water from my forehead, I turned over the engine and leaned over to reach into the glove box. My hand closed on a leather case. My brow wrinkled.

“I swore I left this unzipped.” I muttered pulling the case free so I could unzip it and pull loose the GPS.

“Turn left onto Spruce Street.” A falsetto British voice directed as I finished entering the address I got from the guidance counselor when I realized Matilda had forgot to give it to me.

I checked to make sure the lights were on and slipped the car into reverse. As I backed away from the house, I glanced at the door. My mother’s silhouette didn’t fill the doorway.  She hadn’t changed her mind and the party still awaited me. I flipped on the windshield wipers.

I practiced my most sincere smile as I navigated through the dreary night. I glanced at the GPS from time to time for reassurance that I approached my destination. Finally I pulled onto a narrow street with tightly packed row houses. The emotionless voice informed me that I had reached my destination.

“This can’t be right.” I reached for the GPS.

As I stared at the rectangle of light, someone rapped lightly on the window. Startled, I dropped the GPS, watching it fall to the floor before turning toward my window. Silhouetted against the streetlights, a familiar figure leaned closer to the window to rap again.

“Jane, we need to talk.” He shouted to be heard over the roar of the engine and the pounding of rain.

“Mr. Johanson?” I rolled down the window just a crack, so he could hear my surprised whisper.

“Is it okay if I get in the car?” Despite the umbrella he held over his head, water soaked him from shoes to mustache.

“Of course.” I flipped on my hazard lights on as he circled in front of the car.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as he scooped the GPS off of the floor and handed it to me. “Were you invited to Matilda’s party?”

“You don’t have to act so surprised. She invited you, didn’t she?” He ran one finger nervously along his mustache as he spoke.

“Yes, but I…”

“You shouldn’t trust girls like that.” He interrupted.

“But we’ve been…”

“Friends for a couple of months now? All of a sudden?” The implication behind his words was clear.

“She said she wanted some new friends for her senior year.” I crossed my arms, leaning away from him.

“I really wish that was true, Jane.” His finger fell away from his mustache, so he could clasp his hands in his lap.

I waited, watching him. Without knowing what he was about to say, my stomach twisted into knots. I shook my head at my own concerns. How bad could it be?

“I overheard Matilda and her friends talking about a movie they saw. The main character was tormented by some of her so-called friends. They thought it would be cool to play that prank on one someone. It was the same day, you asked me for Matilda’s address and told me you’d be invited to her party. I put two and two together…”

“…and got four.” I interrupted.

My stomach deflated as if I had been kicked. My heart beat faster as my hands gripped the steering wheel. My vision blurred as I fought back tears. I pulled gasping breaths into my lungs, willing away the tears.

Mr. Johanson waited patiently for me to calm down before continuing. “That’s why I gave you my address, so I could tell you and send you home.”

“You couldn’t just tell me when I was in your office?”

“You looked so happy. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d figure it out before I needed to say anything.” He paused to give me a moment to take in his explanation. “I hoped you wouldn’t show up tonight.”

“But I did.” Almost inaudible words found their way out of my mouth.

“You did, but they’ll never know that.” He reached out to pat me on the shoulder.

A smile began to cross my face. “So as far as they know, the joke is on them?”

“Exactly. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you at graduation.” In one swift motion he opened the car door and his umbrella.

He stepped out of the car, closing the door gently before turning away. I watched him merge with the sheets of rain, becoming a jagged silhouette under the streetlights. A load lifted from my shoulders as I idly hit the hazard button again and shifted the car into gear. I even managed a soft laugh by the time I pulled into my own driveway and chased raindrops across the short distance between the car and the 

porch. As I stepped inside, my mother looked up from her knitting. Her face wrinkled in consternation.

“Matilda called. I told her you were on your way.”

“I decided not to go. We aren’t that close of friends anyway.”

“Hmm.” My mother’s head shook as she offered this observation. Then she shrugged. “It's their loss then. Go dry off. We can watch a movie.”

I nodded and headed for the stairs, mumbling to myself with a slight smile. “The joke really is on them.”