It Can Wait

Nova R

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Don’t do it. I mean, it’s really none of my business. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, I glance left at a beeping cup holder. My father, glancing right, does the same. The phone stops its noise suddenly, signifying that just one text was sent. Simultaneously, he grabs it, while I assume that it’s probably just Mom.  “What’d she say?” I ask. He looks into his palm. The words barely escape his mouth before a car collides into our windshield.   Don’t do it. This could mean so much more than some business. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, I glance left at a beeping cup holder. My father, glancing right, does the same. The phone stops its noise suddenly, signifying that just one text was sent. Simultaneously, our hands race towards the source. But this time, I’ve won.  With a tone of defeat, he exasperates, “Who is it?” “Mom,” I reply. “She says that she loves you.”   It can wait. In these few seconds, two different scenarios have occurred. The choices that were made ended up meaning everything at the end.