May 14th - "Rush Hour"

A/N: Long chapter this time. And not for the easily squeamish.

==========

Two years ago. Once everybody gets back from college and is living at home again, there’s nowhere to go but trouble.

The rubber of the basketball, cooked by the mid-May heat, felt warm against Lucille’s hand. She dribbled slowly along the three-point line, the rhythmic sound of basketball slapping against asphalt drifting across the outdoor court. Only she and Jackie were out here; Lucille’s opponent guarded the basket like her life depended on it. Jackie moved nimbly, blocking every attempt by Lucille to get by her. Lucille knew she couldn’t drive on her, so once an opening appeared, she feinted one way, then stepped back and mimicked the generational talent known as Steph Curry.

Sadly, considering her scrawny frame and general lack of athleticism, the best she could do was match the unfortunately-nicknamed Meth Curry. Jackie swatted the ball away the second it left Lucille’s hands, then gave her a violent hip-check as she lunged for the loose ball.

“Get that weak shit out of here!” Jackie taunted as Lucille tumbled away. While Lucille caught her breath, Jackie was already back at the three-point line and launched a smooth hesi pull-up jimbo. Considering her muscular frame and claims she could’ve gone D1 if she really wanted to, she could at least mimic the above-average - though overshadowed - Seth Curry and the ball hit nothing but net.

Lucille kept her hands on her knees, panting, wishing she had listened to her mother’s advice to bring a water (Lucille would be a college junior next fall; she didn’t need things like “advice” anymore). Jackie took a huge swig from her bottle of Gatorade (Cool Blue) and then offered some to Lucille.

The Cool Blue on a hot day during a young summer restored some energy to Lucille. Jackie had brought a six pack of Coke bottles with her; four were already gone, so the two sat against the chain-link fence lining the court and drank the last two. They played on a public court in the industrial side of East Eden; much of the immediate area appeared overgrown, with cracks running through the asphalt until it met a dilapidated former storage shack. The signs of decay made Lucille think of simpler times during the 1990s when the court would’ve been in its prime. She would’ve loved to spend her summers watching that MTV she heard so much about before riding her bike to a friend’s house and gathering the girls for an afternoon on the court.

Perhaps those kids in the 90s played ball here every summer, even every day. But all Lucille saw now was a tiny, tiny fraction of the Earth’s surface lost to time except for the two women currently sitting there, having found it while driving around town in high school when they had nothing to do. 

Lucille also didn’t like riding bikes.

Upon finishing her bottle, Jackie wiped her mouth and stood up. She eyed the shack for a moment, then a flash of wonder appeared in her eyes. Lucille tapped her finger against the glass of the bottle; her friend must've just had a Certified Jackie Idea, and you never want to see those. With the bottle in her hand, Jackie wound up like a pitcher, and launched that sucker right at the side of the shack. The bottle exploded on impact, the shards falling to the ground in a kaleidoscope of destruction.

“You wanna try?” Jackie asked.

“We should probably just throw these out,” Lucille warned. "Littering was fun in high school, but maybe we oughta find a trash can." 

Jackie just shrugged and picked up the empty remaining bottles. One by one, she tossed them against the shack. From Lucille's perspective, it was just glass hitting rotting wood, but Jackie saw some sort of gratification and or amusement in making glass bottles explode. Conversely, she frowned when the last bottle slipped from her hands and gently sailed across the distance, only managing to crack when it landed in the grass.

As Jackie went back to her imaginary mound to strike out the last batter, Lucille placed her hands behind her head. April was a time of rejuvenation and newness. Everything was in bloom, everything came alive. May brought with it not only showers, but a sense of getting in the groove. Everybody was hitting their stride, whether it be the warm temperature or the green trees or all of Lucille’s friends coming home for another summer together.

Summer’s always seem to slip by so fast, Lucille reflected. This year, I’ll really seize summer.

Feeling content, Lucille watched Jackie throw the broken bottle.

There was a life lesson in all of this - don’t throw broken bottles.

After the deed was done, Jackie stared absent-mindedly at her middle finger. She rocked a little back and forth, chuckling empty to herself, then looked back at Lucille with tears in her eyes.

“I flayed the skin off my finger,” she numbly declared.

Lucille jumped to her feet and caught Jackie when her legs turned to jelly. Her heart pounding in her chest, Lucille surveyed the damage. She had seen ISIS beheading videos during her edgy, nihilistic phase in high school, so fortunately, a skinned finger didn't seem that bad. Right? But while she could tell herself that the ISIS videos weren’t technically real since she only saw them through the Internet, reality stared her in the face right now. A huge patch of skin on Jackie’s finger had simply left it. When she tossed the bottle, it must’ve caught her skin and took it along for the ride. Upon confirming the finger itself was still intact, Lucille quickly glanced away from the ugly, crimson-red sight.

“It’s okay, Jackie, it’s okay,” Lucille tried to say gently, but Jackie was hyperventilating in her arms.

“You, you gotta drive me to the h-hospital…”

Lucille paused. 

“...the hospital? But…that’s in the city.”

“I flayed my finger!”

"Can't we call an ambulance?"

"You think we can afford one in America?!"

“...but it’s rush hour.”

“Lucille!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Lucille helped Jackie over to her beater and then slipped into the driver’s seat. Driving meant a non-zero chance of death, which is why Lucille rarely did it in the first place. Driving during rush hour heavily escalated that chance; rush hour even more so. When all three conditions were brought together, Lucille's death was a certainty. She gripped the steering wheel with shaky hands and shallow breaths.

“...should I, uh…throw on some music-”

“Just drive!”

Upon seeing her friend shiver in the passenger seat, looking awfully small and vulnerable for someone who was normally larger than life, Lucille knew what she had to do. She put the car in drive and headed towards the highway.

Jackie tucked her bleeding finger into her shirt. Sweat covered her face and dampened her hair; her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes bloodshot. That’s when the waterworks appeared. These were ugly cries, lonely sobs into her bloody shirt.

“I want my mom…I really want my mom…”

Considering Jackie’s mother now had a new husband and new family on the other side of the country, that would be tough…for a number of reasons. Considering the circumstances, Lucille tried to comfort her friend in the best way she could.

“You'll be alright, Jackie. You'll be alright. We can even get McDonalds after this. My treat.”

Jackie, with red-ringed eyes, gave her a weak smile. She tried to say something, but nothing came out, but at least the cries stopped, too. She still sat there shivering and had to bite her lip from screaming in pain, but the moment of shock had passed (if that’s how it worked. Lucille wasn’t a doctor).

Struggling to keep her eyes on the road (and two hands on the steering wheel), Lucille unlocked her phone and tried to punch in the directions to the hospital. Jackie’s strength surprised her here; her friend held up her good hand, offering to do it for her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucille offered, but Jackie kept insisting, perhaps as a distraction to keep herself calm, so Lucille relented. Once the directions were in, Lucille understood why Jackie wanted the phone - she did want some music thrown on, after all.

The summer heat meant the windows were down; rap music blasted from Lucille’s beater as it drove through the suburb. They hit a red light next to an elementary school; parents crossed the street with their children while the music blared.

I’MMA KNOCK THE PUSSY OUT LIKE FIGHT NIGHT.

HIT IT WITH THE LEFT, HIT IT WITH THE RIGHT.

I’MMA KNOCK THE PUSSY OUT LIKE FIGHT NIGHT.

Lucille made awkward eye contact with the parents. “Jackie, I know it's awful timing, but I feel like we oughta turn the song down.”

“Just put the windows up.”

“It’s hot out. If we put the windows up, we’ll fry.”

“...then put the air conditioning on?”

“But that wastes gas.” When her friend gave her a stupefied look, Lucille resisted the urge to get too political. “Jackie, gas was a dollar-fifty last year. You know what it is now? Two dollars and twenty cents! I’ve never seen gas prices this high!"

“Alright, alright,” Jackie muttered. “Look, I’ll just play something from your playlist, then.”

Lucille opened her mouth in horror, but Jackie already hit play.

~SE NO~

♫DEMO SONNA JA DAME♫

          ♫MOU SONNAN JA HORA♫

                                                                        ♫KOKORO WA SHINKA SURU YO♫

♫MOTTO MOTTO♫

As whimsical trumpets kicked in, the parents covered their children’s ears. Jackie simply hit pause; Lucille caught her own reflection in the rear-view mirror, her face now redder than the stop light.

Jackie scratched her temple with her good hand. “Okay, well, you got some podcasts downloaded, I’ll just play some of those.”

“No! Don’t-”

An amused voice of a man in his early thirties now played out of Lucille’s speakers. “-abducted at age seven, she would not see the sunlight again until age twenty-four. Trapped in the dark cellar of her kidnapper's home for nearly two decades, she was often chained and collared-”

The children outside started crying. Jackie pressed pause with a numb look on her face. “...I really worry about you sometimes.”

“Everybody listens to true crime podcasts nowadays!” Lucille protested. A few parents flipped her off; Lucille gripped the steering wheel tightly, her flash flushed. She was tired of seeing middle fingers that day. Fortunately, the light decided to turn green, and the car drove off.

Jackie decided to conclude things. “Okay, I’ll just let the app play something for us.”

Grungy-sounding guitars now played, mixing with the steady beat of a drum. The band’s singer did his thing and Lucille tapped her fingers against the steering wheel awkwardly. Jackie covered her mouth with her good hand and coughed slightly.

“I mean…I’m cool with this, you know, if you are.”

Lucille shrugged back. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s good, but it’s, you know, better than nothing.”

The band kept playing. Right when the chorus kicked in, Lucille gasped and tilted her head at her friend.

“Jackie, I fucking love Weezer.”

“Oh my God, me too!”

The Sweater Song's dreamy riff took them right to the on-ramp. So distracted by the Blue Album and the general sense of autopilot that kicks in when you’re driving around familiar roads, Lucille found herself merging onto the highway without properly mentally preparing herself. But she looked just like Buddy Holly, and Jackie was Mary Tyler Moore, and there was an open space in the first lane, and Lucille shifted the car inside. With a sigh of relief, she moved over one more lane.

Mission accomplished! Once she was in the second lane, there would be no need to shift lanes until the exit. Sure, trucks might slow her down, people might want to pass, but Lucille was in no rush (well, she was, but don’t worry about it). She could just keep calm in this lane until she made it into the city and then die in a car accident.

She shook her head. There was no point in fixating on a potential end. Her death while driving wasn’t even a certainty, just something with a high possibility. Her mouth went dry, her own legs felt like cement weighted them down, and then-

WHOPPER

          WHOPPER

                     WHOPPER

                                WHOPPER

JUNIOR

                                               DOUBLE

                                                                                                  TRIPLE

WHOPPER

~AT BK~

               ♫HAVE IT YOUR WAY♫

“You don’t have the ad-free version of the music app?” Jackie questioned with a raised eye-brow.

Lucille gave a sheepish chuckle. “It’s five bucks a month, you know.”

Jackie shut the music off. The sudden ad broke Lucille’s nerves, and she actually found herself settling into the seat and the drive. Like she said, all she had to do was follow this lane-

And then they were on the bridge going over the river and into the city.

Too high! Too high!

It was a massive suspension bridge, with hundreds of cables keeping the bridge in the air. Lucille felt herself suffocating in the car; the water was right there below her. All it would take was somebody side-swiping her to plunge the beater through the guardrail and concrete barriers and into the bay. She could imagine the water rushing up to meet her, the blue film covering her mouth, the sun disappearing as she descended into the murky waters of the abyss.

An eighteen-wheeler pulled up next to her. A dump truck arrived on the other side. No way to shift lanes, nowhere to go, just water and an early funeral. Lucille tensed up, because all of a sudden, there was water on her face. Her heart leapt out of her chest and the world seemed to flip upside down-

“Bitch, why are you crying?” Jackie asked incredulously.

“I’M UNDER A LOT OF STRESS!”

Jackie looked down at her finger, then back up at her friend. Her features softened. “It’s a-alright. You can do it! You just have to get through the tunnel-”

“The tunnel?!!!!!”

Lucille was so engrossed with the dangers of the bridge that she forgot about the dangers of the tunnel. Falling concrete had actually killed someone here (twelve years ago), so her fears felt legitimate. And there was no definitely no sunlight in tunnels, nor was there any escape. A side-swipe would lead to her slamming into a solid, uncaring wall. The fact that she made it across the bridge barely even registered because now she faced even greater dangers.

“Lucille, you’re gonna have to shift lanes here.”

“I know.”

Jackie raised a thumbs up. “It’s okay, you got this. Here, I’ll play some soothing music-”

WHOPPER

          WHOPPER

                   WHOPPER

                              WHOPPER

Jackie shut the music app off; Lucille licked her lips, but everything felt dry. Some cars had those fancy warning signs that somebody was in the lane next to you, but Lucille’s car was from 2005. They didn’t even have the Wii back then, let alone hi-tech car features. She would have to rely on herself entirely, and she didn't like her odds. And the cars still went fast in the tunnel, so she’d have to shift sooner rather than later, since the tunnel split up ahead, and if she didn’t switch, she would have a one-way, forty-five minute trip to the airport.

Oh yeah, and Jackie might lose her finger, too. Lucille gritted her teeth. She had to switch. They’re called your friends for a reason, after all. You’d do anything for them.

Lucille glanced in the passenger mirror. A car was lurking too close. She put on her signal, hoping they’d get the message, but no dice. She lightly stepped on the brakes, slowing herself, letting the car pass, hoping the one behind it would get the message.

They didn’t. City drivers were assholes, after all.

Neither did the third or fourth car. The concrete dividing barrier was approaching. Lucille held her breath.

But life finds a way. The fifth car finally answered Lucille’s plea and let her merge just in time. Both girls sighed in relief. Now, Lucille only had to cross one more lane, make three left turns, and avoid any jaywalkers to make it to the hospital.

To make a long story short - Lucille only cried one more time. She wiped her eyes and slumped in her seat when the journey was finally over. The car pulled into the hospital parking lot where a gate awaited payment for entry. Lucille brought the car to a halt right in front of the gate and collected herself. Now that the moment of danger has passed, her head hung low in shame.

“Jackie, I’m sorry for being such a loser.” That was the only way to put it.

Her friend patted her on the shoulder. It was a rough, calming touch particular to Jackie that sent warmth through Lucille, through her heart, down to her fingertips.

“It’s alright. Thanks for taking me here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The two friends enjoyed the comfortable silence of comradery. All in all, there was no better way to spend a summer afternoon than with someone you can fully trust. As she finally relaxed, Lucille felt the gentle breeze again and enjoyed the way the hospital, the highway, and the adjacent buildings and infrastructure all blended together, one mass of concrete, to form the city she truly loved, its flaws be damned. And there she was, with one of her best friends, on that particular day in that particular moment. All Lucille had to do was make it there.

But back to business. Lucille eyed the payment machine and then looked back at Jackie.

“...you’ll pay for parking, right?”