4 crosses not five
Four Crosses Not Five by Shane Jernigan The pink glove lay on the ground, almost covered by the dirt and gravel on the side of the road. It was the middle of December so her mother reminded her to bring her gloves. “Sure thing, mom” she’d reply, “I’ll see you later tonight” but she wouldn’t. Of course, there was no way she could know that. Not at the time. Her mom just thinks she’s going to Rebecca’s house, but Rebecca’s mom thinks she’s going to hers. It was the left glove, fuzzy and covered in soot and ash. The aftermath of the crash was almost too much to handle. The snow would have covered the ground by now but the glove was just barely under the bent and broken right side car door. Becca said she was ok to drive, but she wasn’t, and at 10:39 pm she found that out the hard way. They didn’t go to Rebecca’s house. They went to Derek’s house, and Derek’s parents were out of town. She hung upside down, seatbelt still attached before the firemen cut it. No force required since the door was already entirely broken off the car. The right pink and fuzzy, the glove wasn’t covered in ash or soot or mud, the right glove was covered in blood. Crimson as the dress her mother did not approve of, so she changed into it after they left. That was Rebecca’s idea. Just like it was Rebecca’s idea to go use her fake ID at the corner store to get one last 12 pack before they all called it a night. They had made it to the corner store just fine, and she stayed in the car as a lookout while Becca went in. they got away with it without any trouble too. They headed back, both giggling to each other as Becca slowly went just a little too far over that yellow line. Maybe a few seconds later and she would still be ok. But time works on its own yellow line. And times road is a one-way street. That woman’s children were sleeping in the back seat. Long day after they went to grandmas for a visit. They had gotten their Christmas presents early since grandma wasn’t going to be able to see them on Christmas. Though the original reason for her not seeing them was not what it would become. She was just gonna be snowed in. That woman was tired, but not so tired she couldn’t see the car try to swerve back into its own lane. It didn’t have its headlights on. They must’ve been too excited. Too excited to see that 2-ton minivan in its own lane. It was too late. Now there are four crosses on that back road. Only four not five. Because Becca made it out with just a broken nose, while grandma made it out with a broken home. Four crosses with four things of flowers. One cross, in particular, has a single pink and fuzzy glove laying on the ground in front of it. Because that’s all that’s left of her. Just a left glove.