Taboo
Some sins demand silence.
Photo by Amir Mohammad Kalaei on Unsplash
When my father came home with a black ’69 Firebird for my sixteenth birthday, my mother slammed the front door and retreated to her room.
“He’s going to kill himself with that thing,” she told my father later that night.
I couldn’t see them, but I could picture my father’s devil-may-care grin. He said, “He’s a responsible kid. Let him enjoy his teen years.”
My mother was wrong. I never did kill myself with that car.
It was dark on the county road. None of the farmhouses had their porch lights on, and there were no streetlights. The moonless night added to our sense of danger. The pointed glow of my Bird’s headlights was the only illumination on the dark pavement. This road ran straight for a little over a quarter mile, before giving way to a gentle turn, followed by another half mile straightaway.
Local teens often used the road as a racetrack, but that night it was only me and my passenger Jimmy. We arrived at the end of the half-mile stretch, and I made a five-point turn. Jimmy opened a can of beer and handed it to me.
“You are like three behind. Hurry up,” he said with a laugh.
“I’m driving,” I said before slamming the beer. I tossed the empty can into the back seat and turned to Jimmy. “Ready? I’m going to beat my best time.”
“Okay, but don’t dump it on the turn, okay?”
“Promise.”
I put the accelerator to the floor, pinning our heads into the seats.
“Jesus, man!” Jimmy yelled.
I didn’t respond; I focused on the car and the road.
As we approached the turn, I let off the gas a little and focused on the black strip of road in front of me. I cut the curve, and my passenger-side tires hit the dirt shoulder. I felt the positraction kick in, but the car didn’t skid.
Jimmy screamed, “Look, ou…”
But it was too late. I caught a glimpse of two human figures before I felt the jolt and heard the crash. My foot moved to the brake, and I pressed it to the floor, spinning the Firebird three hundred and sixty degrees.
Jimmy and I locked eyes. I swear to you, never before had I stared into another man’s eyes for so long. “Let’s just go,” Jimmy panted.
I shook my head and removed my seatbelt. I could feel the bruise that ran from my left shoulder to my right hip. It throbbed against my shirt as I opened the door.
As I stepped past the rear fender, a man and a woman came into view. The woman lay on the ground, her body twisted into an inhuman mass.
The man knelt beside her. Dark brown hair and a bushy beard. His green eyes were sharp. Hatred burning behind his pupils. He raised his hand as if to point at me, but I didn’t wait around to be sure.
Back in the driver’s seat, I pressed the pedal to the floor again. We left that woman there by the side of the road. What could we have done?
When my parents confronted me about the bent bumper, I feigned surprise. They didn’t believe me, but it was one of those rare moments when they let it go.
Jimmy and I remained friends into adulthood, but we never spoke about that night. It hung between us in every conversation, an unstated taboo. After college, Jimmy and I didn’t speak as much.
I was a little surprised to see his name on caller ID.
“Hey, Jimmy,” I said, picking up the phone.
“Hey, Brandon. I got your wedding invitation.”
As Jimmy spoke, his voice wavered like a ghost. I remained silent, giving him a chance to finish his thought. After a time, I understood he was waiting for a response. I tried to guess why he had called.
“I know it’s a long flight from Morocco. I understand if you can’t make it, but I had to invite you.”
Jimmy sniffed. Had he been crying? After another uncomfortable pause, he spoke. “Does she know?”
“What?”
“Does she know?”
“Does who know what?”
“Your fiancée. Does she know about that night?”
My body went cold. My voice shook as violently as my hands. “I… I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“That night,” he repeated. “In the Bird.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Jimmy.”
“That couple. The lady. The Firebird.”
“It’s been nice hearing from you, Jimmy. But I need to go.”
“I just want to know if she knows. If someone can know what we did and still accept us.”
I didn’t respond. I hung up the phone and slid down the wall.
***
Later that evening, Stephany came home. We sat on the couch with the TV off. I didn’t say much. Finally, she asked, “Are you okay tonight?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Stephany thwittled my bushy beard. “You are a little quiet. I know the wedding has been stressful for both of us. It’s almost here.”
“The wedding isn’t stressful. I can’t wait.”
That part wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t stressed about the wedding itself. I worried that Jimmy would show up. That he’d want to tell Stephany about the taboo. That she would walk away, leaving me at the altar while everyone laughed.
I shook my head. I shifted in my seat. I could feel Stephany’s eyes boring into me. She would see everything. I blurted, “How about a walk?”
“It’s pretty dark out tonight. No moon.”
“I know. We’ll keep it short,” I promised.
***
Ten minutes later we walked beside our little country road. We pushed deep into the shoulder, crossing onto our neighbor’s property at times.
A car rushed by on the other side of the road. I caught a glimpse, but I could have sworn it was a ‘69 Firebird.
But the car was black, and none of our neighbors had their porch lights on. I was probably filling in the details.
The night was cold, but I could feel sweat forming on my brow.
As we walked a gentle turn, Stephany paused to look up at me. She said, “I really hope our kids get your beautiful green eyes.”
I stopped, meaning to respond, but then I heard the unmistakable sound of a V8 pushed to its limits. My heart pounded in my chest as I caught a glimpse of headlights closing fast. “Stephany, move over!” I shouted. But it was too late.
The car hit the curve too fast. Tires bounced off the pavement, slamming into the dirt shoulder.
Before I could blink, the passenger side of the bumper clipped Stephany’s legs, sending her spinning into the air. She plummeted into the dusty earth, bones cracking. The car spun in a complete circle.
I was kneeling beside my fiancée’s mangled body when the driver’s-side door opened. Tears fell down my cheeks. A shadow emerged from the side of the car.
We locked eyes. I knew his brown hair and green eyes. I’d seen them in the man on the side of the road when I was sixteen. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized they were mine. I raised my hand to point at the kid. I wanted to beg him to help us. To cut the cycle off here, but he turned and ran back into the Firebird.
The car peeled away, throwing dirt and dust all over us.
The world faded away. Green eyes invaded my vision. The hatred pulsed behind his pupils. A hatred I too now felt.
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The build up on that dark road was so intense.