January 14, 2016

A beige Explorer hurtled down the freeway at a speed that, despite its legality, was probably too fast for the treacherous winter road. Inside rode four passengers, eager to arrive at the belated family Christmas party.

In the driver’s throne sat the grandfather, old enough to retire but not yet requiring a cane or a walker. His face had frozen with a worn, grim expression. A half-hour’s tolerance of the woman beside him.

To his right, the grandmother worried. Her hair was stained as brown as her desire to retain youth. But it was not her appearance that antagonized her, nor was her husband’s driving. Not even her unemployment.

“We’re never going to make it!”

“Of course we will. There’s still plenty of time.”

“There’s no way. We’ll be late for sure!”

“But we don’t really need to be there right at one.”

“Everyone else will be there! It’ll look like we don’t even care!”

In the back seat of the Explorer, the remaining two did their best to escape the ceaseless banter. On the left sat the grandson with still-frozen feet and white earbuds protruding from his ears. But not even Beethoven in all his dramatic majesty could cover the conversation completely. He looked over to his mother, one corner of his mouth curving upwards in grim acceptance.

Her chest rose. After a few moments, it fell slowly. Then it rose again, falling rhythmically.

She wouldn’t remember a thing.

The youngest sighed, resigning to a detailed analysis of the music. If the orchestra could not drown them out, perhaps his mind could…