Mistake
“Don’t look back!… Don’t turn around… Do not turn around. Nobody saw anything. Nobody was around. It was dark. Not my fault. Don’t even look back there in the damn mirror! Concentrate… Concentrate on the road. Slow down… big breaths, watch the road, 35 miles per hour good.”
Tom left early from the company picnic. He always dreaded the first Saturday in June. But he was the boss and was expected to go. The men and ladies that worked for Tom really let loose at the annual event. Free beer, free food, awards and prizes, Tom’s thank you to everyone who had made Twinn Shipping successful. It was nothing but a “drunk fest” to Tom after he stopped drinking abruptly a few years earlier.
He called his wife on the cell phone to find out about Tommy Jr. His wife assured him that his son was all right, but having some problems with teething. They truly were his life.
Tom came up on the worst stretch of his yearly commute home. He wished there was another way to the interstate. Tom drove his BMW slightly over the posted speed limit in an attempt to get out of the area more quickly. The corner that haunted his dreams and thoughts was almost in his sights. 7th and Taylor. He told himself to just concentrate on the road and it will be over shortly. But Tom did not take his advice this year, as his vision unintentionally traveled over to the right side of the road.
A red Cardinals hat sat on the concrete curb as his car approached. Tom felt his heart beating and took note of his breathing. He tried to calm himself down when he saw the beat-up, weathered hat. Impossible, he thought to himself, and looked first in his mirror and then physically looked back to make sure it was there.
He stopped. Without thought he got out of his car and walked to the hat for a closer look. It was the hat he saw a million times in his mind. The only piece of clothing he could remember.
The Cardinals hat waited on the curb for Tom to pick it up. On one knee he looked long and hard at the hat and begun to cry. He finally mustered up the guts to pick up the hat. It felt very heavy in his hands as he looked through tears at the inside of the cap.
“J. M.” was written on the bill of the hat in black marker. The J and M were obviously written by a child.
Tom was violently hit by a car.
He lay face-up many feet away from the curb. Pain hammered through his body that was bleeding from every orifice. Tom tried to breathe but could not get air into his body which desperately needed it. He could see light but could not focus. Sounds were oddly clear.
“I’ll make sure the son of a bitch dies here on the side of the road.”
Pressure and pain exploded into his ribs. The same feeling started on the other side of his body. Many words fell on Tom as he concentrated on the sounds. He finally heard what he needed to hear. The forceful pain never left his ribs but started on the side of his head and face.
“Someone get Joey’s hat…”