It’s Friday, Friday, my cars broke down on Friday
Sixteen minutes after my sister left the room, Vincent and I walked out, dressed, refreshed, and with all our belongings for the day. He always kept a spare track uniform in my draw, and I had folded up a clean towel to put in my tote. We made our way down the stairs. I glanced at the clock and realised that I had more time; now that I didn’t need to get a bus and could drive there will a full tank of fuel – courtesy of my lovely boyfriend.
I lingered in the kitchen doorway, watching my brother and mother. Jowan – like he did the day I died – was sat at the table, eating toast. My mom was digging around in the fridge this time though. She turned around when she heard me.
“You don’t want to wear yourself out, Marisol.”
“I’m not,” I replied happily, moving out of the way as Vincent slipping into the kitchen. He ruffled my brother’s hair – although Jowan was too old now to really have his hair ruffled – and took a piece of his toast.
“You’ve been up since very early this morning,” my mother said, turning on a frying pan on the hob. “You need to eat breakfast.”
“I’m going to have a smoothie.”
“No,” she shook her head and opened the fridge again, retrieving some eggs. “You’ll have a proper breakfast. You too, Vincent. You’re all skin and bones.”
Vincent chuckled, pouring two glasses of orange juice. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re so kind.”
“One egg or two?”
“I can’t have two, mom,” I said, joining the table. I took a sip of orange juice – it was bitter and made my face turn sour momentarily – my brother snorted, Vincent shook his head – I hadn’t long brushed my teeth. Orange juice was the worse thing to drink straight after brushing. I guess it was my own fault for not paying attention.
“Why not?”
“I’ll sink in the pool!”
“Come off it,” my mom said, chuckling at me. “Don’t be silly.” She cracked an egg with one hand and it began to sizzle in the fat. I wondered it Luke had taught her that trick – I certainly couldn’t crack an egg with one hand, it took a lot to master that trick. Still, I wasn’t going to ask her if it was Luke. I didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want to mention him. He wasn’t worth our time – although he did look weary and sorry when he’d walked into his restaurant. I shouldn’t have gone in there – it was labeled Staff Only but when I saw him, I just had to. Even if I hadn’t, death would have found another way to get me in the night.
My mom placed a plate down in front of my brother with scrambled eggs on. It was weird; my brother only ate scrambled eggs because he didn’t like them any other way. Only a minute later, my mother placed fried eggs and bread down in front of my boyfriend and I. Although I didn’t usually eat breakfast, I remember when we used to sit together and eat before going to school. When I learnt to drive, I’d tumble down later and shovel some cereal into my mouth before eventually, I didn’t eat breakfast at all because I’d preferred those few more minutes in bed instead.
I realised, as I’d grown up, I’d spent less time with the family and more time doing my own thing, and hanging out with my friends. My sister used to spend more time with me, too, and our mom only flittingly saw us as we walked into the house before we scampered upstairs, and our brother only saw us briefly as we walked passed him in the hallways of the high school, barely acknowledging him.
It’s a shame, but it’s common in families: children grow up, and want to spend time with their friends. They want to live a little before settling down with husbands and wives, having children and getting their own house. After all, they’re only young. Most of them have time to see their parents every weekend, and show off their children to the new grandparents. Not me. I’d never get to see my children, hold them for the first time, watch them grow. My mom would never help me find a name, or decorate a nursery. She’d never meet her grandchildren, she’d never see me get married, and she’d never see me again – not in real life.
I hoped Jowan grew up tall and strong, and found himself a good woman. I hoped Kendal and George had lovely children, one that got to spend lots of time with my mom to make up for all the lost time with us. I hoped, when I left this crazy, surreal world, I’d get to see my grandparents again. Hopefully there was still a plot near their burial where I could lay.
My mom turned off the hob and joined up, with her own food. She smiled at me before pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Beside her chair sat her brief case, so she could make a quick exit when the time came. Even though Kendal and I became lazy with our mornings, Jowan and my mom’s routines stayed the same without fail. They ate until a certain time, and then they left. Not staying a minute late for nothing.
“That was lovely,” Vincent said, pushing away his plate. “Thank you, Rose.”
“Good.” My mother replied, pushing her hair out of her face. She then turned to me. “I couldn’t get the whole day off,” she started, “but I have got the afternoon off. I do need to go back in afterwards to finish off some paperwork but Paul doesn’t mind. He’s a good boss.”
“Thanks mom,” I said, bashfully lowering my head as I finished my breakfast. If things had been different the day I died, and I’d gone to breakfast, I would have known that she had taken time off work to come and see me, and maybe I would have cared more about going. Still, I’d suffered my punishment for not caring, already. Although I’m sure I’d be punished again. Life was being cruel to me. “But you really don’t have to come, you know. I understand.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, sounding hurt. “This is important to you – a very important race, I know – and I want to be there for it. I have to be there for it, Marisol. I want to watch you.”
“Thanks,” I said, picking at the crust of my toast. My mother had always been persistent, always been fierce. She hadn’t cried when dad left her with three children – sure, it was her own fault, but she still had to look after us all alone – she’d just gotten on with it. She had a great job, she never made a mistake, and she was perfect for the role. She always managed to keep up with all our clubs, too, knowing who did what on which day, and asking us how it went. She was definitely a role model, and I hoped my sister could look up to her, and use her, as her own.
“Are you done with that?” Vincent asked, clearing the plates around the table.
“I’ll do that in a minute, honey,” my mom said, waving Vincent away from her plate.
My brother picked up his juice, downed it all, and dramatically hit his glass against the wooden table again. “Ahh,” he said contently, “right I’m off.”
“Goodbye, sweetheart. Don’t forget your sister’s meet later, it’s really important. Plus,” my mom grinned, “I know where to find you if you don’t turn up, young man.”
“Yes, mom,” Jowan replied, rolling his eyes.
I wanted to shake his shoulders and tell them that he shouldn’t roll his eyes; he should have more respect, our mom deserved more than an eye roll. Instead, I let him walk out, to get the bus at the end of the street. “He’s at that stage,” my mom said, as she stood.
“What stage?”
I watched as she picked up her briefcase. She smiled at me before winding a scarf around her neck, and putting on her dark red coat from the back of her chair. “The awkward grumpy teenager stage. You and Kendal were at that stage once, too, you know.”
“Unfortunately,” I replied grimly.
“Goodbye, you too. Train well, Marisol. I look forward to seeing you.”
“Yes, mom,” I said to her retrieving back as she left the room. Moments later, the front door closed behind her and her car roared to life. Vincent smiled at me, but I wasn’t looking at him. I looked around the kitchen. Pictures we all draw as children were stuck up near one of the cupboards, and certificates we’d won in various activities were attached to the fridge by a magnet. The worktops were all clean, and all the dishes were put away, except those from breakfast. The sounds of laugher filled my ears as I reminisced, thinking of how mom and I used to bake cakes on Sunday mornings.
Just as I was about to get up, and leave with Vincent, the phone rang. I frowned. The phone hadn’t rung any other time I’d repeated this day? Why was it ringing now? How could it ring now? This hadn’t happened be—I stopped myself in mid thought. Of course this hadn’t happened before, or even the day I’d died, because I hadn’t sat down to eat breakfast with the family! Whoever was calling, I wasn’t here to answer it, because I hadn’t had breakfast before. Should I answer it? Or not? What if it’s not for me? Then it’s just wasting time, isn’t it? Precious time. Whether I answer that call or not, it’s going to change my life forever, it’s going to cause a ripple effect of action after it. I’ve just got to choose…
“Marisol,” Vincent said, poking me in the arm. “Your phone is ringing. Are you going to answer it?”
“Sure,” I said absentmindedly. “I’ll be right back.” I stumbled into the hallway with sweaty hands. Had this phone call been important? Was I meant to pick up the phone now, to realise something I’d missed the day I’d died? Wanting to get to it before the person on the other line put the phone down, I rushed to pick it up.
“Hello?” I ask cautiously.
“Marisol?”
“Yes?” I answered, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might have already gone to school, I thought I missed you.”
You have! I wanted to say. You did miss me. I died that day. If I hadn’t, I would have had this conversation. But I had, I missed it. I’m sorry, and I know you’re sorry, too. I should have stayed for breakfast. If I hadn’t had to get the bus, I could have stayed. It would have been like this morning, nice and peaceful, and I would have gotten to this phone call.
“Marisol?” he asked, after I delayed replying. “Are you still there?” His voice was somewhat comforting. I didn’t expect to hear it today, but I did miss it. Suddenly, a dozen memories filled my head. It was over whelming, considering that I didn’t remember things very quickly or very often anymore. There were many times he’d taken me to the park, and to the local swimming baths. We used to go shopping together, and he taught me how to ride a bike. Before Vincent, he was the only person I’d ever loved. My heart melted at the sound of his voice, and I realised how much I missed him.
“Yes,” I said quietly. I wanted to cry. I was happy, so happy, to hear his voice but at the same time, I wanted to cry. I didn’t reach this phone call. I hadn’t spoken to him before I’d died and he’d tried to call me. Everyone had left the house by now, to go to work and school, no one would have answered the phone. I should have answered the phone. “It’s nice to hear from you, dad.”
“I’m glad I reached you in time. I was going to leave a voicemail.”
“Sure,” my voice replied, although rasp and dry. I never got to listen to that voicemail the day I died. I never got to say goodbye – not until now.
“I just want to say good luck, sweetheart.”
“For what?” I said, momentarily forgetting everything.
“Your swimming meet. Your mom and I do still talk to each other, you know. I can’t make it. She didn’t mention it until we last spoke, I can’t get the time off work and drive over there, I’m sorry.”
A tear silently fell down my cheek. “I’m sorry, too,” I squeaked. Sorry I never spoke to you on my last day. Or even thought to speak to you since.
He chuckled, unaware that I was sad. “You’ll do great.”
“Thanks, dad.”
“I love you, Marisol.”
“I love you, too, Dad,” I said. I sniffed hard and put a smile on my face even though he couldn’t see it. this had to be a silver lining, didn’t it? I couldn’t see him or say goodbye to him in real life, but reliving, repeating this day, had given me time and the opportunity to say goodbye. I had to take the moment, and embrace it. “I’m sorry about what happened to you and mom, I really am. I wish you could have been around more.”
“Me too, darling.”
“You were still the best dad,” I stopped myself. I couldn’t talk in past tense; he’d pick it up. I didn’t want him to be offended, either, or remind him that he wasn’t really in our lives anymore. “You are the best dad I could hope for, you know that?”
“Come off it,” he said, “I haven’t been there for you guys.”
That isn’t your fault, dad. “You have – in our hearts – and our thoughts. Thank you for everything you did.” Even leaving, he was helping us. He was doing it for us. If he’s stayed, the air would have become toxic, because they would have fought all the time. He’d sacrificed that so we could live in a fight free house, spending time with them separately, even though we didn’t see dad often.
“M—”
“Goodbye, dad. I’ve got to go – I’ve got to get to school. But thank you for ringing, I really appreciate it.”
“Bye, Marisol.” He said happily. “I love you.”
“I know you do,” I said quietly. “Love you, too. Thank you.”
-
We’ll be late in a minute. I knew we would but there was nothing I could do. First, we were stuck in a traffic jam, and then, just four miles from school, my car gave way with a cry. Vincent sat up and looked out the front window. “What’s going on?” he said after a minute. “What was that noise?”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I said quickly, pulling the key from the ignition. There was nothing wrong with my car. All these other days, my car hadn’t broken down. Why was this happening to me today? I had to get into school – I had to get to swim practice – and I had to get to my meet. It was imperative. It was the most important thing of the day; I thought it was anyway. I was bettering myself when I went to the meet, and making my family proud. When I didn’t go, I was only disappointing everyone. Why did this have to happen to me, after everything else? I knew this didn’t really matter, this day would be wiped clean in hours and I’d start again, but it couldn’t shake the anger. Why did all these things keep happening to me – why was I continually punished?
“Marisol?” Vincent asked.
I turned to him, and looked into his large eyes, watching as he blinked in confusion. His brow furrowed, as if he didn’t understand what was happening. It was like he was pleading for this not to be true and I wished it wasn’t. I tried the car again hopelessly, praying that it would work. To no avail, it cried out and failed. He was loyal to try, but he just didn’t have the strength. It wasn’t fair.
“Marisol?” Vincent said again, reminding me that he was there.
“Yes?” I replied with a sigh. “It’s no use, Vince, it’s not going to budge.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s not starting,” I yelped. “How am I supposed to know what is exactly wrong with it? It just gave way. I haven’t been having these problems.”
“Calm down,” Vincent said, unbuckling himself. “I can just ring George, he’ll come and pick us up. Don’t worry, alright?”
A car whizzed passed us. He blared his horn, swung passed and came in close again near my car. Great, I couldn’t help where I broke down, passer-bys being angry with me didn’t help. I was angry with myself enough already. And my car. And the universe. Everything.
“Don’t do that!” I said quickly. I couldn’t get him to pick us up, he was driving my sister to school, and they were talking about important things. I couldn’t disturb them now. They needed to realise how much they loved each other, how better they were together than alone, how they’d help each other through things… through this. Hopefully, in the real world, they’d find each other and hug each other. They’d stay together and marry, and live happily, and old, together. Being able to live happily, healthy and old with Vincent sounded like paradise right now. It’s everything I want – everything I won’t be able to have.
“Why not?” Vincent said skeptically.
“He’s with Kendal, didn’t you here her earlier?”
“Yes,” Vincent nodded. “So?”
“So,” I said pointedly as another car passed, beeping angrily. “They need time to talk.”
Vincent cocked his head and pulled his lips back, grinning. “Are you trying to play cupid?”
“If you knew what they’d been through, if you knew how much they loved each other, then you’d understand that they needed to be together. They’d be happier together, don’t you think? Just let them talk, alright? They love each other, they’re just being stupid, and they need to stop being so stubborn.”
“You’re cute when you’re passionate.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too,” he replied, opening the passenger door. “Let me take a look.”
“Be careful,” I said. “The traffic is dangerous, and busy.” I watched as he lifted the hood of my car and began poking around underneath. I didn’t mind, so much – I wasn’t angry anymore – that the car had broken down. If it meant that Kendal and George got to have their conversation, I was happy, because their lives were more important than my own now. Kendal needed her boyfriend more than I needed to swim today. After all, we always sacrifice things for the people we love.