Brett Carwile: "Unsafe Love"

Twisted heaps of metal, alongside twisted blurs of people and places, flashed before Anna’s eyes. People whom she hadn’t spoken to in years, places long forgotten, all reunited with her memory in a single instance. A single instance in which she was thrust out of reality and into an alternative dimension removed from the ticking winds of time.

She saw herself baking in the scorching August sun, an intense focus kept on the melting hues of orange and yellow blurring the horizon’s sharp edge. Like the drops of sweat precipitated on the young girl's bronzed skin, it was in this moment that the first drops of doubt and disquiet seeped into her mind.

How does a mother just flat out forget their child? Does mama not care about me? This is why I need a cellphone—my own mother can’t even remember to pick me up. 

She saw the rusted old minivan, the long-awaited vessel of salvation, penetrate the horizon's hazy threshold dividing heaven and blistering hell. “What took you so long? I've been burning up out here for over an hour!”

“I lost track of the time and didn't realize that you hadn't been picked up from schoo-”

“Mama, can I get a cell phone? Nothing like this would happen again...I would be able to call you!”

“I’ll think about it,”

“Also...do you love me?” Having impulsively unleashed the explosive question, her tongue was now bathing in an acidic residue.

Seemingly stricken by the stinging slash, her mother fell silent. A wretched symphony of silence resonated within the minivan for several moments before she spoke once more. “Of course I do, darling,”

Does she really? When was the last time I heard her say “I love you”? Has she ever told me that she loves me? I hear Hannah's parents tell her all the time. . .but mama just leaves me in unloving silence.

With an intense flash, the scene changed. The air of unease provoked by the previous scene faded into warming comfort as the familiar sights of home came into view. In the center of a dingy and cluttered living room stood a large artificial Christmas tree, its sparkling lights and glistening ornaments breathing life, and love, into the dust piled corners. Beneath the plastic limbs lay a single gift, Anna’s name written on the tag.

“Go ahead, open it!” Tearing apart the wrapping paper like a wild animal devouring its prey, she found the gift to be something far more valuable than gold—a brand new phone. Her only desire, the only thing she had thought about for the past four months, had materialized in her own hands! Was this actually happening? Or was she just dreaming? It was all quite surreal—the incident in August would now be nothing more than a distant memory of an era long gone.

“Thank you so much, mama! I love you!” Anna exclaimed, excitedly jumping about the living room in what could only be described as a fit of joy. Her fit subsided, however, when the words hit her mother in the face, freezing it over with an icy glaze. Anna watched her mother’s mouth slowly form into shape as if it were going to emit a thawing breath of love, but nothing came out; she was left in chilling silence. Suddenly, the radiant hues of life and love casted by the tree seemed to disappear.

Another bright flash. Years passed in an instance. A searing itch for freedom and independence slowly began to consume her delicate skin. She wanted to go places, be on her own. She now saw Mrs. Rodriguez, the kind old woman from the driver’s branch. “Congratulations, Anna! Step over here so we can get your photo!” She motioned for Anna to stand in front of the camera. CLICK. It was now official.

Once again, the scene changed and she now saw herself leaving to go to a concert with her friend, Hannah. Before heading out the front door, she stopped by her mother’s room, dark and cast in shadow. “I love you, bye!”

“Ok,” her mother's voice echoed down the hall. As expected, her mother did not reflect the sentiment; she never did. Even though her mother always responded in silence, she dearly held onto the hope that the paradigm would eventually shift.

She no longer saw herself, but rather, her mother. Curled up on her bed, droplets rained from her eyes, creating a puddle of sorrow on the soaked sheets. Attempting to regain her composure, she wiped off her drenched face, and grabbed the cell phone sitting on the bedside nightstand. Turning on the blindingly bright screen, she emptily gazed at its surface for several seconds before slowly tapping on the screen as if to type something. She stopped and stared once again into the screen. Seemingly restraining an onset of precipitation, she closed her eyes, and made one quick, singular jab at the screen. As soon as she had done so, luminous rays of sunshine burst through the window, consuming the dark shadows and drying the dull dampness.

Anna now saw herself in motion on an endless expanse of asphalt.

PING.

“Hey, your phone just went off.”

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it looks like it was your mom.”

“Can I see the phone?” Anna reached for the phone, curious as to why her mother was contacting her at such an odd time.

Unfortunately, she never got to find out.

She now saw herself in the present, her limp and lifeless body lodged in a grave of asphalt and  twisted heaps of metal. Next to her body, lie her phone, it’s bright screen displaying a message from her mother: “Drive safe...I love you.”