Towering overhead, like some great tusked mammoth of millennia gone by, is the wedding cake in the middle of the road.
After more than seven years together, Nina turned to me from the passenger seat, clasping my right hand with slightly chilled fingers. I glanced over to her from the freeway for an instant to see her eyebrows crinkled together.
Her breath caught for an instant before the flood of words broke from her mouth, “You know we’ve been together for seven years. More really. I think we’ve known each other for ten. People are starting to wonder, you know, if we’re ever really going to be together. I’m not saying we’re not, but I think that’s what they’re thinking. You know what I mean, right?”
For a moment the words coalesced, thickening like a simmering sauce. “I suppose so, yeah.” I hesitated an instant, questioning my choice of words before brazenly pushing further, “So what?” Her grip on my hand slackened and her eyes darted to the dashboard. Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I continued, “I mean to say, you don’t really care what they think, do you?”
The corner of her mouth twitched, “No, I’m not saying I do. People wonder all sorts of stupid stuff. It’s just that this time I’ve been thinking the same thing.” She sighed, taking me back in with her hazel eyes. I smiled at her sheepish grin, nodding slightly.
“Yeah, I’ll admit the thought has crossed my mind as well.”
“Really? I thought you might be weirded out or something. We’ve never really talked about it before.”
We hadn’t, I’d realized, “I guess not, but I always assumed it was there. It seems like you’ve been my whole life, so marriage wouldn’t really change things.”
“Probably not,” she shrugged, “but it could be fun to put it all together. To see everyone we love in one place dancing and throwing back a drink or ten. Let’s not forget my gown and everything underneath.”
The driver’s seat became a bit more uncomfortable for me at her last mention, which Nina noticed with a chuckle. “Alright,” I glowed in embarrassment, “those are all very valid points, but we both make crap wages. I know our families could help, but I’d rather not ask. We’ll have to pay for a venue, drinks, food, someone to marry us, the dress, suits, and, uh, the wedding cake.” Five cars passed us as I anxiously pushed along in my rather ill ’94 Volkswagen Jetta. I could feel the engine straining to match sixty, which always felt unnerving.
“Good points, all of them,” she nodded, not the least bit perturbed, “but we can find a way. We always find a way.” Her eyes suddenly widened, “Paul. Paul!” I snapped to face the road again. Tumbling toward us, breaking apart and flying into the air, was a six story wedding cake. A blue tarp flapped wildly behind it, and in front of that a silver truck spun and flipped, scraping on its side toward the ditch to our right. I pumped at the brakes, clutching white knuckled at the steering wheel, instinctively wanting to jump in front of Nina to protect her, but all I could do was watch the cake speed toward us, pink and white frosting writhing each time it impacted with the pavement.
Nina braced her arms against her door and the car began to swerve as I spun the wheel. The world spun in a sickening vertigo, blurring like smeared pastel. A scream escaped my throat, “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening! Oh shit, shit shit shitshitshit-“ the impact rattled through my bones. My head twisted one way as our car twisted the other, shuddering and screeching. The glass cracked in an instant, becoming a white network of tiny fractures. Panicked, I grabbed at Nina’s arm. Our hearts raced together. Then another impact hit. Airbags burst from their compartments, slamming with unbelievable velocity and punching the wind out from my chest.
I could steel feel the momentum of the car sliding, even after we stopped. Smoke began to pour from the console with a familiar, acrid sting to it. For a moment, I stared dazedly at the deflated airbag which had burst through the front of the steering wheel like the Xenomorph from Alien. In a flood of panic I reached out to Nina and ripped off my seatbelt.
“Nina! Are you alright?” her hands gripped at my arms and then pulled me in to a tight hug. She started sobbing. I shook violently at her touch, adrenaline and relief flooding my veins. We held each other another moment, relishing in our warmth, her hair pressed against my cheek, tickling at my face.
The smell of the electrical burn had gotten stronger when the world came back into being. I tried pulling the keys out, but they were jammed. I cranked the parking brake into place and pushed out of the doorway. More smoke billowed out with me. Nina came out of her side of the car a moment later, and we just stared at the front of the car in disbelief. Wedding cake had splattered across the grill, which was now caved in, nearly to the windshield. Behind us more cars had spun out of control, flung from one side of the freeway to the other, while we had apparently slammed into the truck which had lost the cake in the first place. I cringed at the sound of bending metal and plastic as another collision occurred. Onlookers from the other side of the freeway slowly drove past, mouths agape, refusing to mind their own business and slowing things up for everyone behind them.
I embraced Nina again, asking, “Are you alright?” This time she nodded, with tears blurring her eyes. We stumbled to the side of the road, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion. For a while, we stared out at the destruction, Nina’s head on my shoulder, until the paramedics and police arrived.
After several accounts and hours we managed to get back home. The sturdy floors, solid doors, and warm air filled me with relief. I could only stew over the facts. Our only car was lost. We’d nearly died.
Nina put on the kettle, telling me not to worry. We would find a way. We always did. We were home, alive, and relatively uninjured, she had to remind me. A wrong turn, a slower reaction, and we’d have been smashed by a ginormous, barreling cake. I nodded forlornly, trying not to feel so self-centered and irresponsible.
A cup of tea later, she turned to me, wincing at the cuts across her brow. She held up her mug with a lopsided smile, “I’d still like for us to get married, you know. To life and wedding cakes in the middle of the road.”
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