“Do you even hear the way you sound when you talk?” Aubrey's voice took on a high pitch when she was getting angry with her husband, Eddie.
The snow hitting the windshield of the car seemed to hold its shape for far too long - a testament to just how cold it was tonight. It was late, and the snow glistened in the car's headlights, making it difficult to see the road ahead. Eddie had driven this stretch of highway many times, but tonight, when visibility was near zero, he was especially thankful for the long stretches of straight highway.
"All I said was that I'd rather listen to Christmas music! We're on our way home from a Christmas party, and I kinda wanted to stay in the spirit of things by listening to Christmas music," Eddie replied, struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
"Well, I'm sorry. I'm just not in the mood for Christmas music right now." Aubrey's phone screen lit up as she unlocked it and scrolled to her podcast app.
"How can you not be in the mood?" Eddie said, his own voice climbing in pitch as he reached for the volume knob, hoping to crank it up just a little more. Maybe all she needed was a little more volume to get in the mood. Seriously though, when had that ever been the case?
Aubrey swatted his hand away from the volume controls and connected her phone's Bluetooth to the car's radio.
So much for Christmas spirit. Eddie could feel his frustration building. He didn't want to listen to Aubrey's podcast about the ethical ramifications of inserting neural implants in infants, which resumed playback mid-sentence.
...a lot we need to learn about the long-term consequences of altering a child's developing brain. Neural implants could have both positive and negative effects on cognitive development, personality, and behavior.
Eddie gave Aubrey a sidelong glance. He could feel his temper flaring and his temperature rising in spite of the freezing cold temperatures outside.
That's the thing. We just don't know yet. We need to conduct more research better to understand the risks and benefits of neural implants before they are used in infants.1
"Can’t you just take a day off?" said Eddie. "Why are you insisting that we listen to this crap right now?"
"I already told you I have to give a presentation at work about this next week. I'm trying to stay familiar with the content," Aubrey said.
Eddie was looking at the reflection of Aubrey's phone in her eyes when his attention was suddenly redirected to the swirling snow in front of him as an air horn blared and a snowplow barreled past them on the highway. The truck's amber lights pulsed brightly as the truck moved into their lane, just at the edge of visibility, and as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared into the snowy maelstrom.
"Aubrey, I don't want to fight with you. It's just that you don't seem to know how to disconnect from work," said Eddie.
Eddie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. He reached over and put his hand on Aubrey's arm. "Please, Aubrey. You need to be able to take some time for yourself. Ever since Ezra..."
At the mention of their late infant son's name, Aubrey jerked her arm out of Eddie's reach.
"Don't be like that!" Eddie said, turning toward Aubrey, searching again for her eyes in the darkness.
The lights appeared out of nowhere. Eddie's gaze whipped back to the snowy scene in front of them, and he grasped the wheel with both hands, knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip. He twisted the wheel to the right in a vain attempt to swerve around the snowplow no more than three feet in front of them. The car lost its grip on the road with the sudden change in direction, and the vehicle began to spin, once... twice... three times. The spinning car slid across the right two lanes and plummeted down the embankment and into the snow-filled ditch, where it came to a wrenching halt.
Everything was silent. There were no horns blaring or sirens peeling. The car lay still, its front end firmly embedded in a snowbank. The headlights were completely obscured, so the only light came from the car's dashboard, and the red glow of the tail lights reflecting off the snow.
For several long minutes, neither Eddie nor Aubrey spoke. They simply sat, staring at the snowflakes that landed on the windshield.
Eddie forced his hands to release their grip on the steering wheel. His heart was pounding, and he could feel the adrenaline burning in his arms and legs.
"I... I didn't see... the plow must have... Are you OK?" said Eddie.
"What happened?" Aubrey asked as she raised her hand to her head, touching the spot where her head had impacted the window when the car started spinning. There wasn't any blood. That was good.
"Aubrey, I'm sorry," said Eddie.
"It's not your fault," said Aubrey.
"No. I'm sorry I called your podcast 'crap' I didn't mean it. You're really good at what you do, and it's because of the extra effort you put in," said Eddie. "It was selfish of me to insist that we listen to music instead."
"I was being selfish too," said Aubrey. "I guess I've just had a really hard time taking a break ever since Ezra passed. I feel like I always have to be busy because if I slow down for more than a minute, I just can’t stop thinking about him."
"I know. I’m sorry," said Eddie. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don’t wonder what our lives would be like if our little boy was still here with us." His voice was quiet - almost a whisper.
Aubrey turned in her seat to face Eddie and reached out her hand, which he took in his.
"I’m sorry for fighting with you," said Aubrey. "I realize now just how silly it was."
"You're right. I'm sorry too," said Eddie.
"Tonight has reminded me how precious our time together is because we don't know what tomorrow holds. Our lives could be snuffed out in an instant, and tonight, they almost were!" said Aubrey.
Silence enveloped the car once more. They sat in the cold car, hand in hand, both thinking about how insignificant their argument now seemed as they faced the reality of life's fragility. Neither could feel the cold, which might have been shock, but both felt warmed by a renewed sense of love toward one another. Until tonight, they hadn't admitted that they had been growing apart since the death of their infant son. But, with this second chance, Eddie and Aubrey realized that they still had so much to live for. They still had each other.
Eddie broke the silence. "GPS indicates that there's a gas station less than a mile down the road."
"Let's walk down there, warm up, and call for help," said Aubrey.
Eddie and Aubrey stepped out of the car into the pristine snow. The storm had cleared, and the night sky now sparkled with stars. They looked back at the way they had come. Snow was already covering the highway again. The tracks the car had made while spinning off the road, a reminder of the argument that nearly cost them their lives, had been erased by newly fallen snow.
Hand in hand, Eddie and Aubrey carefully ascended the embankment and began to walk down the dark road toward the safety of the gas station. As they walked, they agreed to leave their argument in the past and embrace the true spirit of the Christmas season: love, forgiveness, and the promise of a fresh start.
This fictional podcast blurb was generated by Google Bard
As I dab my tears with a Kleenex, I applaud you on a job well done. Any author wants nothing more than to touch the reader and that you did. I had to grin though at the reference of neural transplants as I had one implanted this year.
This is such a touching story loved it!! A great reminder that life is so fragile !!🥰