COSMIC

1 - Life on Mars?

"Well, at least you've got one to kill you." I climbed into the truck as well and continued searching for a radio station that suited our tastes.

"Jamie, just because your parents are always working doesn't mean they don't care about you. It's just the opposite, actually."

I sighed. "Well, it's hard to see it like that sometimes," I mumbled, thinking about the long nights my mother had to endure as a diner waitress. I recalled the evening she told me she was taking the job. It was only a few months before but the meltdown was still clear in my mind. Dad is gone all the time, I had shouted. I don't need you to be gone, too! Doesn't he make enough money for us? But my complaints were useless, as she used the stock market crash as her defense. She would tell me I should be happy she could even find a job. Times were tough and the recession only minimized her chances of employment. Plus, with the impending oil rationing, which we had already seen beginning with the lines of cars at gas stations, my father--a truck driver--could be facing a decreasing wage. The fact I couldn't deny that truth only frustrated me further. "Plus," I added, "they want me to start working, so I've been babysitting for our neighbor lately."

"Oh right, how's that going so far?"

I shrugged. "The kids are maniacs but other than that, it's been okay." I laughed before continuing, "But my mom doesn't realize that with me gone during the day and her working nights, I hardly get to see her. I'm having dinner alone most nights. I just wish things were back to the way they were."

"I'm sure she realizes all that, Jamie. Look at my dad, though--ever since Mom died, he's never been the same. I know he's trying to continue for me, but I can tell he struggles with it. He has no desire to enjoy life, and when he's feeling down, it feels like he doesn't even care about me. When she was going through her chemotherapy, I always thought I would take it the hardest if she died. I guess I was wrong." Nancy dropped her chin on her chest, tears welling up in her eyes.

I remained silent for a few seconds, my guilt setting in. "I'm sorry for complaining," I said, switching off the radio and the lively guitar riff streaming from it.

"No, keep it on," she said. "It helps me."

At her bidding, I switched it back on but kept the volume low. "I can't believe it's been two years already," I said, leaning my head back on the headrest.

"Me neither." Nancy wiped her tears away and took in a breath. Sitting up, she added, "Just don't feel bad about your mom and dad always working. I know he's gone for weeks at a time, but at least he will come back. Plus, you have your mom. I'm sure she misses him as much as you do."

"You're right."

"Oh," she continued, "and don't worry about me, okay?"

"10-4," I said, smiling as I used trucker slang in agreement.

Cranking up the radio, her demeanor changed completely. "I love this song," she said. "I'm kind of obsessed with it right now."

I laughed, as Paul McCartney's "Another Day" began to resonate through the cab. She started up the truck's roaring engine and sang along with the song as she backed up. I marveled at her ability to change the spectrum of her emotions so quickly. In the recent years, she had learned to stay strong and hide her self-pity. I only wished I had learned that myself--to look on the bright side, even if it was difficult to find.

We drove away from the woods and towards the outskirts of the city, where pine trees became fewer and homes took their place. Even though the forest had become my sanctuary, I could always rely on my best friend as we entered our realities again. Every night, we came back light-hearted and clear-minded.