Just a Perfect Day, part 2

Of all the possible metaphorical paths that Bob had to pick to get to such problematic position this was not one of the most probable, assuming free will. Normally he wouldn’t be at Tim’s party. The reason he was there tonight was the “on the rocks” status of his relationship with his girlfriend, who had told him earlier in the day that she will be going out with friends tonight, without a hint of invitation.

Now the reasons for on-the-rock-ness of the relationship are very complex, suffice it to say that they include a phone call last Saturday at 9 p.m. initiated by Bob’s girlfriend during which she reminded a forgetful, drunk-with-a-friend-at-a-downtown-bar Bob, at length and with no little effort to obviate her derisive tone, of the fact that he had been supposed to be home at 8, that they had made plans a week ago and that she had made reservations at the restaurant which she had already cancelled before calling Bob, so there was no need for him to rush home anymore and she was even nice enough to wish Bob a good time with his friend: “hope you have fun” she had said, her tone loaded with sarcasm as a rocket with a nuclear warhead.

This however was only the nail in the coffin of the camel of their relationship which many straws had helped break the back of on many nights of petty arguing and days of cold detachment, the source of which arguments, Bob only sometimes remembered to remember, was not what it seemed: their differences of opinion about how each of them should behave and be, but rather their disability to entertain each other, and hence the complexity of the reasons for the deterioration of their relationship, because who can put his/her finger on that x-factor that makes one entertaining to another and then luckily visa versa.

At any rate, facing the wraith staring into the beams of his headlights some part of Bob’s brain, deep beneath what constitutes the self-conscious part, decided to completely ignore Jen’s screaming from the backseat and Tim’s banging on the dashboard and solely concentrate on turning the stirring wheel to the left with remarkable speed, allowing the right corner of the bumper to barely miss the standing figure’s knee who had apparently changed his mind last-minute and had jumped to the side even though the car had already cleared him. But this caused the car to hit the curb at too exciting of a speed for the tires to hold their breath and so they popped loudly, as the seatbelts tightened on the three law abiding passengers’ chests.

It took Bob a few moments to gather himself and get out of the car. He saw the crash’s cause running at full speed, already half faded into the empty street’s darkness where he had emerged from as if from nowhere. Tim got out of the car and said “what the fuck was that?” staring at the back of the running figure. Jen got out and said “oh my god” in a weak voice, eyes staring at nothing in particular.

Both front tires were shredded so there was no point in using the spare tire. To his disbelief, as Bob listened to Vivaldi’s Summer playing over the phone while he waited for someone at the towing company to pick up he saw Tim calling for a cab. He was looking all around except in Bob’s direction, trying to avoid eye contact. The cab got there before the tow truck. “What if I had no money with me to pay for the two truck? they didn’t even offer to help or stay. fuckin’ assholes” Bob said to himself with quiet rage that almost felt good. “sorry man, good luck” Tim said as he was getting in the cab. “Fuck you” Bob almost said but didn’t, he just kept quiet and looked away. “This is going to be a good day” he thought, so when it started to rain just as the cab was taking off it was no surprise at all.