The Taxi Driver

It was quiet outside. It was the way she liked it. She didn’t like to hear the rain falling against the concrete. She didn’t like heat that felt so heavy; it was like the steady beat of a bass note turned up too high. Today was her perfect day. It was cold and cloudy, but the air felt so fresh and clean. Today was her favorite kind of day, and there was no one around to ruin it. There was no one around for their day to be ruined by her.

There she sat, alone on the edge of Sugar Pine Park on a cold, frosty bench. The bench was just over the curb on the parking lot facing into the ice-covered swing set. Two brown trunks occupied the space next to her, full of everything she owned. She sent a sideways glance towards them as her arms weaved themselves around her legs. She tucked her chin into the depths of the warm red scarf around her neck. She was glad she had gotten up so early that day. She reaped the rewards of a quiet place to sit, with only the occasional crazy jogger passing by her little bench.

These were the best kind of days. No one would accuse her of being cold today, nor would they yell at her for being late. No one would even scold her for being rude and inconsiderate. No one would judge her today, and if they did, they should be prepared for a right good punch in the face. Her friends wouldn’t tell her everything would be fine; she told all of them to fuck off. Her parents wouldn’t bother her either; she figured they were too afraid to. Oliver wouldn’t bother her either. Her friends and her parents may come after her, but Oliver could never bother her again. An unsuspecting sob escaped her pale lips when she thought this. She buried her face deeper into the red scarf, so the occasional joggers wouldn’t have to see her puffy red eyes and smeared eyeliner. What a waste of a beautiful day.

She was tired of being the person everyone wanted her to be. She just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t made for love. She wasn’t made to be kind. She was made for fighting and running after it all went bad. She could do insults and slander. She tried to change, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t her. She was happier when she was herself, even if everyone else hated her. The explosions she had after she tried to change were worse than the ones she had before she got help. Her face was warm inside the red scarf as tears dampened the soft yarn. The more she thought about it, the harder she cried. Just when her life was looking up, she had to fuck it up again. She was beginning to think she was cursed to live like this.

Her self-pity party was interrupted when an engine roared behind her. She wiped her tears quickly, remembering the cab that she had called. She pushed back her sleeve to see the time. It was only 5:45. He was early. Without turning around she stood and grabbed her luggage. She walked around the bench to be met by The Cab Driver, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. He offered her a timid smile as he reached down for her trunks. He looked at her face a little longer than he should have, obviously noticing her tear stained face. Her face became hot with rage. Angry tears threatened to fall out of her eyes as the young man walked away with her luggage. She was losing her mind so much so, that everything about this young man reminded her of Oliver. His kind brown eyes and his soft brown hair mirrored Oliver’s. How could this happen to her? Why was God so angry with her? Why couldn’t he allow her to forget what she had done?

She shut her eyes tight as her fists clenched and rushed into the cab’s rear before The Driver had finished arranging her trunks. A few moments afterward she heard the trunk close gently. The Cab Driver entered the car only a few seconds later, closing the door with just as much tenderness and turning the key in such a way he seemed to want to make the least clamor possible before he drove off into the cold morning. She had to scoff, though it was hidden behind the scarf. He must have been afraid of her too. He must have thought the slightest noise would set her off. He seemed to hear her scoff though, because he caught her eye in the rear-view mirror, his soft brown eyes connecting with her watery blue ones for a moment. She blinked and looked down, a blonde lock falling into to her face as she avoided his gaze. She wished he would look at the road.

A few minutes later, he surprised her when he spoke. They were moments away from the cross roads that lead into downtown, or out into the edges of the city. “Where are you headed?” Even his voice sounded like Oliver’s and she found herself even more enraged. She cleared her throat, trying to force herself not to lash out at the kind taxi driver. He didn’t deserve her wrath.

“The train station,” she told him. Her voice was thick with a rasp that wasn’t normally there.

“That’s quite a ways,” he commented, again looking in the rear-view mirror at her. She shrugged. What did he care?

“Too far for you?” She asked, her voice now heavily drenched with sarcasm. “I thought is was your job, but perhaps I was sent the one taxi driver in the world that has a cap on his mileage.” She looked away from the rear-view mirror. She felt guilt in her stomach as she gazed out the window. “Figures,” she muttered, again not intending for him to hear, but this taxi driver obviously had sophisticated hearing capabilities. The young man’s eyes narrowed, as he drove, no longer looking into the rear. He said nothing. As she continued to gaze out the window, a clear drop fell onto her window followed by another and more after that until the rain was pounding against every surface on the taxi. She looked away from the window and shut her eyes, an angry tear escaping her closed eyelids.

They drove in silence for a long time, but it wasn’t a comfortable quiet like she had felt earlier that morning. It was rigid and tense and the rain didn’t help. Just when she felt like the sound of the rain would make her burst, The Taxi Driver spoke to her again. “What’s your name?” he asked her. It wasn’t in a demanding tone or a pitying one, but rather in a curious one. This made her look up. Everyone that she had talked to in the past few weeks was either angry with her or sad for her and it made her want to rip her eyelashes off one by one. She hated it so much. But this tone was different. She liked it. The Taxi Driver didn’t seem to pity her, which she appreciated more than he could have known.

“August Bridgehome,” she told him quietly. Her eyes had mostly dried by then and the whites of her eyes had almost returned to their original light shade. He smiled, obviously pleased that she had even bothered to respond. She probably wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t been so indifferent in his tone of voice. She tried not to get angry again as she looked at him in the rear-view mirror. She hated how Oliver seemed to be everywhere these days. He was in the conversations she had, in her dreams, and now riding in the car with her.

“August,” he repeated with his small smile still lingering on his lips, “I know this is probably none of my business, but-” he paused, seemingly concerned about what he was going to say next. “Well, what I mean is-” he stopped again. He must have realized by now the she wasn’t in a very good place at the moment, so she thought she knew what he was going to ask.

“You wanna know what my problem is, right?” she asked him. He looked sheepish as he nodded. August sat up a little and placed her hands on her thighs with a heavy sigh. It was about time someone knew her side of the story. Everyone knew Oliver’s side, but no one cared to listen to August’s. “Well I should let you know that my sob story is pretty difficult for me to talk about,” she hated admitting it, but maybe if she let him know now, he wouldn’t looked at her funny when she started uncontrollably sobbing. “And once I start telling you I’m not going to stop, so if you’re going to back out, you should do so now.” She waited for a moment to see if he was going to tell her that he changed his mind, but he didn’t say anything so she decided that was her cue to begin her story.

“Well, It all started when I met this guy, Oliver. How we met isn’t really important, but he was my little brother’s best friend from college. It was funny because when they met at Columbia, they didn’t know that they both lived in Upstate New York. We lived in Forest home and he lived in Ithaca, but it was still pretty crazy that they both lived so close to each other. It was odd because, well you know, Ithaca is pretty fucking small.” She looked up to see if he had cringed at her vulgarity, as most people did, but he didn’t, so she continued on. “ But I guess his parents moved there after he went off to college. Anyway, We hit it off right away. He was smart, and I always felt awkward around him. Being the family screw up and all, I didn’t even go to college when my baby brother was able to get into an Ivy League.” She had always hated that next to her brother she looked like a completely idiot. She was smart, but the colleges she applied to refused to look past the mistakes she had made previously. “I felt the same way about Oliver. He was younger than me by two years, but it didn’t really matter. I think we both forgot about the age difference since it was pretty insignificant, but our parents couldn’t seem to get past the fact that I was a whole two years older than him. Which resulted in me being treated like Oliver’s babysitter throughout our entire relationship.”

“My parents were always worried that Oliver would cause me to react badly like all my other boyfriends had, but I knew that my relationship with Oliver was different then the ones I had with the other guys. I was a different person before I met Oliver.” For the first time, Mr. Taxi Driver interrupted her speech to ask a question.

“What was wrong with the other relationships? Why was Oliver different?” His questions surprised her, but maybe it was his interest that surprised her more. August sighed yet again. She had really hoped he wouldn’t ask her about that because she really didn’t want to talk about it, but she answered his questions, like the good little girl she had always wanted to be.

“Since you’ve been a victim of my ugly attitude, you’ve seen me in action,” she told him, she looked away in embarrassment. His eyes were so intense and sincere it was almost too refreshing. It felt like the first time Oliver had looked at her. He didn’t know anything about her or the things she had done like everyone else in Forest Home. He looked at her like she was a regular person, and she guessed that was the reason she had fallen in love with him in the first place. “I have an disagreeable temperament,” she said, rolling her eyes as she quoted her mother’s words. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, so she elaborated. “I guess I’m just mean to people, without any given reason. I’m sarcastic, and rude, and brutally honest. I’m the type of person that will tell you you’re ugly or fat, if it’s the truth. I guess most people don’t like that quality in someone. This quality only worsened when I dated jackass guys that cheated on me, hit me, and lied about me. I’d come home and take my anger out on anyone and anything I could get my hands on. Insults, slander, curse words—I would give everything I had.” Her fists clenched and her brows furrowed as she remembered that anger and felt it boiling inside of her. Her eyes shut tight as she tried to diminish it. Mr. Taxi Driver didn’t warrant a verbal beating from her. She let out a heavy breath and continued. “Anyway, after a rather nasty reaction of mine, I and my family decided, that I needed to change, so I started going to these classes to help my attitude. To make a long, boring story short, I got better, just a couple months before Oliver showed up.”

“I guess Oliver was different because he wasn’t an asshole.” August laughed bitterly at this. It was so sad that the only guys she ever dated were jerks and the one that wasn’t got away from her just as easily as the others had. “He was sweet and funny, and he cared for me.” Her eyes softened as she remembered him. But they hardened again as she continued on. “I have no idea how two insane people like his parents had such a wonderful child.” She narrowed her eyes as she remembered them. Oliver’s mother, Victoria, was worse than his father, Robert. “They were so fucking religious, they could make the Pope want to repent.” The Taxi Driver laughed at this, which made August looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. It was probably the first sign of a smile she had given in a few weeks.

“Our relationship was pretty much good for a long time. We enjoyed each others' company and spent a lot of time together, while trying to avoid his parents’ constant sex talks. They always treated Oliver like he was a little kid that couldn’t fend for himself and I was the one that had to take care of him, you know, ‘cause I was older and all.” August still felt her heart race with outrage as she imagined the scene. She probably wasn’t this upset by it before, but now Oliver’s parents hurt her more than anything in her life ever had before. “They never approved of me, you know. They only acted like it because Oliver liked me so much and we never did anything against their beliefs.” She felt those hot, furious tears building up again and she stopped talking about Oliver’s parents and moved on to the next chapter of her story with a quiet sniffle.

“It was like that for two years. He really was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t remember ever being happier than when I was with him. I missed him badly when he went back to college, and sometimes I missed him so much, I fell back into my old ways, but eventually I was able to control my emotions while he was gone. Everything was perfect.” She smiled at the memory. Her genuine smile made him smile, but as hers began to fade his did also.

“There was a problem though,” she told him, looking down in what seemed like shame. “Oliver liked to move really slow. It took like five dates for us to even hold hands. At first I thought it was really sweet, but as our relationship continued, I began to wonder if he really didn’t love me at all. It wasn’t his fault. I had a screwed up meaning of what love was.” Her eyes narrowed at this, remembering the old boyfriends she had the never really seemed to care about anything but her body. “I thought love meant sex and that love and sex equaled each other. But I was wrong, and unfortunately, I didn’t see that until recently.” She looked out the window blank faced, watching the rain fall in clusters onto the glass. “Anyway, I thought since Oliver didn’t want to have sex with me, that he didn’t really love me. I was so confused. Did I repulse him? Was there another girl? It really started to bother me, but I never did anything about it until one night during his winter break when we were on our way to his house after a Christmas party.” Her voice thickened again with that heavy rasp that she wished would just go away.

“I was driving, and I will admit I did have a few glasses of wine at the party, but I wasn’t drunk or anything. Anyway, we got into a fight about it on our way home.” her voice cracked and she bit her lips, the tears hanging on the very edge on her eyelids. Remembering that awful night hurt in a way that appeared to be physical as she placed a hand over her heart while taking in a deep breath. “The roads—the roads were really icy,” she stuttered as she continued. “And I was so angry! All this time I thought Oliver was different and then he turned out to be the same as all the others as soon as I had fallen in actual love with him?” The tears were spilling freely now as she started at the ground. She clenched the fabric of her shirt over her heart so tightly; she had almost lost the feeling in her fingers. The Taxi Driver didn’t say anything. He sat silently in the front seat. For a moment the only thing either could hear was August’s sniffles and the crack of raindrops against the windows.

August wiped her cheek and rubbed her eyes before taking in a shaky breath, an attempt to compose herself. “A deer ran into the road,” she let the breath out, as she stared at the back of the passenger seat. “I was distracted and angry so before I had time to slam my breaks the car swerved on the ice. It seemed like everything would be fine. So what if we slid at little? Sure it was scary as hell, but there wasn't any trees near the shoulder, so we should have been fine.” She swallowed hard as her voice cracked again. “But that other car came out of nowhere, and before either of us knew what was happening, it hit the passenger side.” August’s whole body was shaking now. An uncontrollable sob rang through the car. Her eyes were so full of tears now, the rest of the world seemed like a blur. She was crying so hard that she didn’t even notice a tear spill from The Taxi Driver’s eyes.

“Oliver’s death was just the beginning of all my problems,” she told him desperately trying to wipe her eyes dry, but her attempts were useless as her eyes still watered defiantly. “After his death, not only did the entire town blame me for his death,” she paused here to take a breath and wipe her cheeks. She swallowed and opened her mouth again as her nostrils were clogged with her own sadness. “His parents are threatening to convict me for murdering their son. They’ve hired a lawyer and everything.” Her hysterics increased after she said this, and The Taxi Driver was having difficulty holding himself together. “What kind of people do that?” she choked out. Her eyes were full of emptiness, like everything had been sucked out of her. “How could they do that? How could they not see how much I loved him?" As she sat there, starting at the soft gray fabric of the passenger seat, her world continued to blur. "That’s not even the worst part!” she exclaimed. “They even forbade me to attend his fucking funeral. It was invitation only. They put me under the list of people who weren’t allowed in under any circumstances.” She took a moment to control her breathing. “How could they push me away like that? How could they not know how I was feeling?” For the first time since she started crying, she looked up into the rear-view mirror and saw The Taxi Driver’s own tears. She sat up a little, embarrassed now, realizing that she had just spilled her soul out to this complete stranger.

August looked out the window again. It had stopped raining. Her sobs must have been too loud for her to notice. “So now,” she paused to sniff. “I’m running away from this Goddamn town. I’m getting as far away as I can from all these people.” She looked away from the window as they began to enter the station’s Entrance. She looked away from the window, glad to get away, but nervous as hell to actually be doing it.

For the first time the entire ride, she noticed the clear placard on the back of the driver’s seat with The Taxi Driver’s information on it. Her mouth fell agape as she read the first line. She sniffed and looked at The Taxi Driver through the mirror with her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Daniel Peterson…” she spoke quietly as her skin grew so cold she felt like she was talking to a ghost. “You’re Oliv-”

“I’m his brother,” The Taxi Driver said as they pulled up to the curb outside the entrance. He stepped out of the Cab quickly after it was parked and shut the door with a slam. He wiped his eyes hoping she wouldn’t notice. August stepped out of the cab as quickly as he had, following him to the back of the trunk. She became filled with fury as he emptied the trunk of her luggage.

“How could you sit there,” she pointed angrily to the front seat with a stern finger, “the entire car ride, watch me pour my entire life out to you, and not tell me who you were?” she asked him more angry than she had been the entire day. Daniel sighed as he shut the trunk and lifted her luggage onto the curb for her.

“My name was right in front of you the entire time.” He told her. She met his eyes with a wrathful glare.

“Peterson’s a popular name,” she defended. “And besides, I didn’t even know Oliver had a brother!” She insisted, the glare fixated on him.

“I know!” he growled back at her. An anger flashed through his eyes that reminded her of her own, but it was quickly gone as he looked away from her. August knew there was more to that look than he probably had intended to tell her, but August couldn’t let him get away now. She was vulnerable and angry. Daniel seemed like the only person who cared about her side of the story. “Come on,” he told her, picking up her trunks again and gesturing his head towards the inside of the station. “We’ll talk inside.” Her anger diminished slightly, because she was interested in what this long lost brother of Oliver’s had to say.

The two of them found an isolated bench inside of the station where they situated themselves for the time being. Daniel was the first to speak after they sat down. “He talked about you a lot, you know,” he told her, without looking at her. She looked over at him even though he didn’t do the same. “He told me he was going to bring you over to meet me on New Year’s.” August looked down again, but Daniel continued to look forward.

“Why have I never met you before?” she asked. There was something wrong there; she knew it. Victoria and Robert worshiped Oliver, so why would they hide their other son from the world? Daniel sighed.

“My parents kicked me out of the house after I got a girl pregnant during my senior year. They kind of disowned me.” He told her, folding his hands on his lap.

“I’d say that sucks, but I know your parents,” she told him, no sign of jest anywhere on her face. Daniel laughed and looked at her sideways. “Sorry.” She shrugged and sank down a little bit. He shook his head with a small smile remaining from his laugh.

“No, you’re right,” he told her, looking forward again before he continued. “My parents never loved me like they loved Oliver. I’ll admit that I was jealous when we were kids, but I didn’t envy him any longer, as I got older. ” He shifted in his seat a bit so he could lean back into the bench. “Oliver and I were pretty much best friends before that, but he was always really loyal to mom and dad, so when they kicked me out he felt like he was taking sides, which he hated.” August knew what he meant. Oliver never got on one side of an argument unless he absolutely had to. She knew that’s why he hated when they argued. She felt another pang of guilt in her stomach. Daniel’s eyes became teary again. “So when I heard about Oliver’s death, I was pretty much devastated.” August looked away. Her heart was hurting again. Hearing ‘death’ and ‘Oliver’ in the same sentence hit her harder than she thought it would have. Daniel quickly turned to August after he said it and grabbed her arm gently. “It’s not your fault, August.” He sounded sincere, but August wouldn’t believe him. She knew it was her fault. No good-natured lie would change her mind about that. The hand that was wrapped around her arm slowly came around her back until Daniel brought the other one around to enclose her in a warm hug. August’s arms were trapped between her body and his, but it wouldn’t have mattered because she wouldn’t have hugged him back. “I’m glad I was your Taxi Driver today.”

August was filled with so many emotions at the moment; she didn’t know what to feel. She was glad he was her driver too, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She missed Oliver so much and all she wanted to do was run and hide, but she felt like she wouldn’t have been doing it for the right reasons until that moment. The embrace ended when a man called for August’s train over the loud speaker. Daniel broke away from her and picked up her trunks. They walked in silence toward the train. Their shoes squeaked on the damp, red tile, but neither spoke. They stopped in front of the door a little awkwardly as Daniel handed over August’s luggage. Daniel tapped his side nervously. August gave him a small smile and began to turn away, but he stopped her again. “August—” he called. She turned back to look at him. He struggled with his words for a moment before he spoke. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself. Don’t let anyone control your life.” He said it with a smile that seemed sadly triumphant, like the two of them had accomplished something on their little adventure. The side of August’s lips rose a bit and then she turned away from him onto the train, without speaking another word.

August stepped onto the stairs and entered the train, handing the man her ticket. He punched it before leading her back to her seat. She was placed on the end of an empty row next to a foggy window where outside it was cold and cloudy and gray, just the way she liked it. Below the sky, walking along the red brick wall was her Taxi Driver. Brown hair, brown eyes, and not older then twenty-five, he looked back at the train and gently smiled.