Fast car

Dear John,
remember when we first met? You just got your shiny, new, fast car. And I asked you where I could get a ticket to join. You asked me where I wanted to go to and I said “Anywhere. Any place is better than this.” I still remember how you smiled and then opened me the door. We spent so much time driving around. We were driving and driving and I nearly felt drunk on speed. Remember how you kept me in your arms and how we dreamt about our future? When everything would be better than what we had at that time? We made a deal. We wanted to get out of this – together. We were starting from zero, so we had nothing to lose or to prove. But I was wrong about that. We had something to lose and I definitely had something to prove. I had to prove myself that I could make it. And we could lose each other. We didn’t know and maybe now it’s too late.
I had set up this plan that you agreed on. It was right in your fast car, remember? We both get jobs, save a little money and then get out of there. Maybe into the city, where we could get better jobs. We would finally see what it means to be living. I followed the plan. I got a job at the convenience store. The best I could get without a high school diploma. But I managed to save a little bit of money. And every time I asked you if you found a job you just took me to your fast car. Don’t get me wrong I loved that time we were driving around, entertaining ourselves, the city lights laying out before us and your arm always wrapped around my shoulder.
Then I got this job at the market as a checkout girl, but you still didn’t get a job. Remember this one time we were driving your fast car again? I asked you if it was fast enough so we could fly away. I told you we had to make a decision we could leave that night or live and die this way. We stayed and that broke my heart. But I was still hoping that things would change. I believed that you’d get a job and I get promoted, that we could move out of the shelter, buy a bigger house in the suburbs and have a better life. Nothing changed. You still drove your fast car and got no job and I paid all our bills.
I hoped so long for the better, that you and I would find a way together. I started forgetting about our plans. Just driving around with you was enough for some time.
But then you started drinking. You stayed out late, drinking at the bar. You must have seen more of your friends than of your kids lately. They missed you and so did I. It’s getting worse and worse and you remind me more and more of my dad. You know he had a problem. He lived his life with a bottle. I’m just waiting for the moment you tell me that your body is too old for working like he always did. I’ve been thinking a lot about my mum lately. Why she left us and left it to me to care for my father. I think I understand now. She wanted more from life than my father could give her. It was still very selfish, but I understand her. I’m gonna be less selfish. I want more from life, but I also want it for my kids. I found back to myself. I know I belong somewhere else. I can be someone. I made a decision! I’m not going to live and die this way. So I leave. I leave to better life with my kids. I’ll live the dream that you never wanted live with me. I’m heading to the city and call you when we are there.
The kids would understand if they don’t see you again, but they at least want to tell you goodbye.
Don’t worry, you’ll be fine – you still got your fast car.




Posted on July 16, 2014, in The story behind and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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