Broadside

It was a depressively icy evening at Fairview Pointe Claire and all the cars were trying to escape from the Pharmacy parking lot.

I was loosely holding my cellphone to my right ear, talking to my good friend Uché, waiting for my mother and brother to pick me up.

“I’m supposed to have a date with this man who asked me out but I’m not sure if he’s gonna flake tomorrow…our convo is carrying uncertain vibes. Either way, if he doesn’t show: I’m taking myself out to lunch!”

My bestie scoffed, she clicked her tongue. “Absolutely, sis! Absolutely do that! I love your energy!”

“Thank you!”

“Heyy, you know what, mama? It can’t be worse than my ex on Valentine’s Day!” She cackled now.

“Wait…your ex,” I bobbed my head. “Thought y’all were going strong and you would do long distance when you started at UBC in the fall?”

The cackling turned into hysterics as I finished crossing the poorly placed crosswalk waiting for the details.

“We got an AIRBNB, he broke up with me and then…after a weak ass explanation, insisted on still giving me the gift he bought! What a body of human waste, eh?”

“What the hell, Uché? What did he get you…was it nice at least?”

“Nina, you’re not even going to believe it!” She coughed, probably choking on her passionfruit vape smoke.

“It was a mug with a picture of a dinosaur on it—“

“Say what—“

“It said: don’t be a cuntosaurus!”

I almost lost my footing and fell on the concrete, I started dying of laughter.

“O-M-G!!” I had tears running down my cheeks.

“I don’t understand men…there must be some algebraic equation that I’m missing…I gotta check my old notes from class or something.”

“Ohhh sis— that’s not a man! He’s a little boy! Men don’t do that! This kid has a lot of nerve but not a lot of spine.”

“You’re right baby…you’re right! Boyyy bye!”

“Yes, ma’am!” My phone beeped, I pulled it from my ear and looked at the caller ID: my little brother Zach was trying to reach me.

“Ayo, i gotta let you go but we’ll talk tomorrow. Love you, family!”

“Love ya, Nina! Always!”

I finally answered my almost delinquent brother.

“Ninaaa—where the hell are you?” He was panting.

‘Where the hell are you, Zachary?”

“Shut your mouth! Mom and I were just in an accident, okay! She’s hurt.”

My lungs stopped working, my eyes bulged, my knees almost buckled and my blood went cold…here came the anxiety and all the worst case scenarios swirling in my head.

Luckily four whispered words escaped my mouth; my brain rarely let me down.

“Where are you guys?”

“At the bus terminus, we collided with the 470 west, mom’s disoriented—“

I hung up and with all my might, powered my body to save my mom and brother.

Out of breath and possibly enduring angina, I saw the bus with no dents and my mom’s Audi’s bumper was done for.

Martha held her palm in a fist to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. Was it the pain or just plain embarrassment?

“Hey, Mom. Are you alright?”

My brother’s pleading eyes stared at mine.

“It’ll be fine, get out of my face,’ she roared, “This moron bus driver thought it would be fun to play bumper cars with me when I had the right of way!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. It’s just a hectic bus terminus entrance, things happen but you have great car insurance and you guys will be fi—“

“Shut the hell up, you twat! I had the right of way! I don’t need my kid who’s barely 18 reassuring me. You don’t even have your license, I’ll do what I want!”

“Yo, she’s just trying to help!” Z chimed in.

“That’s enough out of you two imbeciles, I just need the insurance info from Mr. Jerkoff and then to get home to my bed!” She opened the dented door, pushed all of her body weight up with her arms and swayed forward only to slump back down.

“You’re probably concussed, mum. Please let me help and try not to have an ego attack. I’m going to assist you in getting to the back seat, run and exchange the insurance information, get Zach home and get you to the ER. How does that sound?” I was gnawing at the inside of the right cheek as I tried to be cordial, kind and considerate.

“Zachy, grab me the insurance booklet in the glove compartment and then would you get the passenger door open for us please?” He snagged the booklet, tossed it in the driver’s seat, exited the vehicle in his burgundy Nike tracksuit, black knee high socks and navy flip flops, looped around and reached open the door.

My mother used me as a crutch to the back seat. I wrapped her into the left side passenger’s seatbelt like the toppings of a burrito into its tortilla.

“I won’t be long, Mom,” I glared at my younger brother. “Keep an eye on her.” I dove into the drive’s seat, snagged the little black book but before I scurried away, I heard my mother force a whisper: “I’m not going to the god damn hospital.”

I used the sidewalk to jog to the front of the stalled bus, now it was pissing rain on top of the most slippery ice Montreal had to offer. I had a hood but I didn’t bother to use it, I just needed the bus driver’s info.

“Just go!” My mind shouted.

When I arrived at the bus driver’s window, it was already open. Not only did I have the driver’s aggravated eyes look me up and down but about 30 people aboard the bus peering through the glass.

He was bald and wearing a wool hunter green sweater with beige buttons, I could already smell the mothballs.

“Excuse me, sir! Do you speak English by any chance? My French isn’t the best.”

He huffed, “I’m alright.”

“Good enough for me,” I shrugged my soaked shoulders. “In this booklet: you’ll find all the insurance information you’ll need. If you could just write down your information on a piece of paper as well? I would highly appreciate that, Sir. I even have a pen if—“

“I got one, kid.”

I frowned. “Oh, I’m in college.”

He started writing, “You don’t look it.”

As I waited, I glanced back at my mother and brother who stood by as I attempted to do something good in my family’s eyes. I never felt like they were proud of me, maybe tonight would change that.

I blinked hard, I could see my thin translucent eyelashes now dangle miniature frozen raindrops as an eye accessory of sorts. An early outdoor Christmas fashion statement? My internal chuckle was interrupted.

“Here! I wrote down everything you might need for insurance’s sake and I even added the number for my AA meeting. We tend to meet on Thursday nights.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your mother must be drunk to ram into an articulated city bus. May God bless you kids and I’m wishing you an early Happy Holi—”

“—Excuse me, you have no right!” The scoff shot out of my mouth like vomit. “That’s my mother and whether she’s drunk or not, sane or not: that is none of your business. I’ve been polite but now this conversation is over and I have all that I need. Good luck with your AA meetings, I hope you stay sober. Good night!”

My squeaky sneakers stomped me to my deranged yet somehow loveable biological family.

I flung the driver’s door open and slid inside. I prayed this bent and dented soccer mom car had enough juice to get us to where we needed to go.

“Let’s take you home, Zach.”

“We’re all going home,” Martha let out. Her eyes stayed shut but the woman still spoke with the grit of Margaret Thatcher.

“Mom, quiet down,” I was hyper focused now. I switched my signal on and swerved around the bus and took a right onto Brunswick.

“Like it or not, we’re family,” She snarled. “You have to treat me with respect. That means you do as I say.”

“Real family doesn’t treat one another the way you treat me,” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Blood means nothing at all.”

“You’re grounded when you get home, missy. You wanna talk me to that way, it’ll be two weeks.”

I checked my blind spot over my right shoulder and merged into the right lane to turn onto Saint Jean.

My little brother palmed his forehead. “Don’t push her, she’s weak.” He whispered.

“Not weak enough,” I mumbled as I increased my speed to get onto highway 40.

I raised my voice now. “Do you not realize that one wrong turn and I can kill everyone in this car? Your life is in my hands, woman.” I stooped to her level but I didn’t care.

She scoffed and leaned forward, swatting at me.

“You ungrateful little shit!” Her evil switch was on now. She got one lick that grazed my right ear.

Gassing the car’s speed to 100 kilometres an hour and putting it in cruise control, I then met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Don’t be a fool, Martha. I know you don’t actually want to die. Sit tight and we’ll be home in 5.”