The Day That Almost Wasn't       

                                                           By J.P. Nix

The alarm clock started it's daily ring at 4:00 a.m. as it does every morning.  Nancy, my wife and lover moved my arm that held her close to me. I groaned as she took the warmth from our bed that her body provided to the bathroom.  I rolled over to the opposite side of the bed and went back to sleep. 

Nancy likes to begin her day with a Diet Coke and a cigarette, the breakfast of champions.  And then she usually goes to the guest bedroom where our computer is; from here she performs a moderate ritual anything from checking email, to playing a few computer games.  This can last anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour. Promptly at 5:00 a.m., and I mean promptly( anyone who has read or heard the tale "Son Save Yourself, I'll Go Down With the Meatloaf" knows what I mean by promptly), starts her body descent into the shower.  I'm still asleep, however not as warm as when her body lay beside me.  At 5:15 the shower is turned off, and a float of steam escapes as the bathroom door is opened.  With a towel around her body and hair she usually stands in the closet, and look at the selection of clothes for 5 minutes before dressing.  However this morning, her first task was to wake me before dressing.

"Honey," she said, softly at first.  "It's time to get up."      

My eyes didn't open, I just laid there motionlessly.  "Can I don't, and say I did?"

"No that wouldn't work," she laughed.  "My car needs gas, and you promised."      

"I must have been under some kind of stress when I said that.  No court would convict me when a promise is made under stress.”

"Honey!" she began to get irritable, pulling the covers off my cold body.  "Get up!"

"Your serious about this, aren't you?"

"If you make me late for work, I'll-" she started.    

"Okay, okay", I interrupted her.  "I'm getting".

While she went to the bathroom to put makeup on, I stood in the closet and looked for my Friday clothes; jeans, tennis shoes, and shirt.  But I couldn't make up my mind about the shirt.  Which shirt to wear; not a dress shirt since the day was Friday, but not a shirt that the dog wouldn't play with either.  Decisions, decisions, decisions.  My wife, now acting as if she's a drill instructor in the Marine Core interrupted my mind in this process. 

"Why don't you just wear sweats until you get back?"

"Okay, okay, " I agreed.  "Sweats it is."

The sleep or rather the lack of that had crowded my thoughts about what to wear had now been decided for me.  "Ah", I thought.  "Life is so simple when it's decisions are made for you."  

Outside the confounds of my warm home, the cold dark night steadied a chilling wind across my front yard through the trees to my body which now ached to be back in the warm bed.  I started the car, which cranked immediately, and after a few minutes eased the car down the street to the local grocery store which had an ATM machine.  I turned the car off to go inside, and quickly  used my card to get the cash I needed, before dashing back to the car.

I turned the key, and the car wouldn't start!  I tried several things; first I put the gear shifter in neutral, second I tried pushing up on the shifter to lock it in place, and finally third I said a quick car prayer.  But all my attempts to revive the automobile were useless.  It didn't spit, sputter, or cough; it was dead.  It had died on a cold misty morning when the full moon still in view could be seen overhead.  I should have stayed in bed.

I ran back in the store, and asked the late night cashier if I get change for the payphone.  "My car just died on me, and I need to make the proper arrangements."

He just shook his head and pointed, "No.  You can use the phone right there."

"Thanks," I said.

After the phone rang twice, my wife answered.  When I told her what had happen, she said, "Did you try", and "How about".

Both were answered with a definite yes.  She complained that after she dried her hair, she would be on her way.  Oh boy.

She tried the same reviving techniques I did.  The jumper cables were in my trunk, which were also useless because the battery was not the problem.  

I suggested that she could drive my car to her office, after she dropped me off.  This suggestion was also useless.

"I'm not driving your car to work.  My office is too far, and I don't know if your car would make it."

"At least mine is running," I muttered.

"What?" she hadn't heard me.

"Okay," I changed subjects.  "What do you suggest?"

"You go to work", she said.  "If I have too, I'll call Mom to borrow her car if mine is going to take too long to fix."

Back home, I selected my wearing apparel for the day, drove quickly to my office.  Arriving a few minutes before my appointed time, I got a cup of coffee, and turned my computer on.  Life is funny like that sometimes; all the rushing in the morning to get the cash and then gas for the car never did come to par.  If I had known, I would have stayed in bed for an extra hour.

The End