Why Wait?
by Julie Ring-Fry

Lisa stared at the rear window sticker on the truck in front of her. She'd never understood using a beloved cartoon character in such a lewd and suggestive way but today she was jealous of his ability to relieve himself. Her usual habit of taking the inside lane had backfired on her. She felt like the center fish of a vacuum sealed bag of coffee beans. To her left she could see the shaken and angry faces of drivers in her same situation each one with their own story to retell about today.
The car to her right was one of those obnoxious, canary yellow, zoom zooms from the commercial. The car behind her was forgettable gray. With the fading sun frustrating her view Lisa could only see the shadow of the person in the car behind her. Was it a man or a woman? Did he or she have a family they were trying to get home to? Would they even have a home standing by the time they got there?
She looked at the clock on her dash board for the third time in as many minutes and wished the traffic would just move. One foot, one inch, anything would be better than a dead stand still.
"Your hands are shaking," Paul said.
He'd been so quiet Lisa had forgotten she wasn't alone. She glanced at her hands and saw the slight tremor. She checked the time again.
"You're not still scared are you?" Paul asked flicking his cigarette butt out the window.
"Hey," Lisa said, "Don't do that so close to other cars."
She didn't want to answer his question. She still felt a knot on her throat where he had grabbed and held her under the espresso bar a few hours earlier.
Embarrassment had set in and she didn't want to relive again how she'd flipped out when the earthquake had the building swaying. It had hit only four hours ago but she was already tired of hearing the stories. She was glad she hadn't had her car radio fixed yet she could only imagine the field day the news reporters were having with this tragedy.
Lisa was used to earthquakes. Growing up in Southern California she had to be. Who knew Northern California had them just as bad. What made this one different was the way the building bowed like a sunflower in a breeze. A career in Cafe Nordstrom lost some of its appeal when tall stacks of newly cleaned coffee cups were being flung at her head. It wasn't till she and Paul had picked their way through the debris and found some of their coworkers outside that she found out the building had been designed to sway instead of shake. It was supposed to break away from the mall like it did because the foundation was basically a huge ball. Her life had been at the mercy of a play ground toy.
"I hope the apartment's okay," she said steering the conversation to where she felt safe.
"We're less than a mile away and there's no power here," Paul took a drag off a new cigarette, "it's probably out at home too."
What he said made sense all the stop lights had been out during their marathon crawl. Deep down she knew that it would be out at home just the way it had been at work but that didn't stop her from needing to get home. Would the bottle of White Zinfandel she put in fridge this morning taste good warm? It didn't matter, she'd drink it anyway.
"Where are the cops, shouldn't they be directing traffic?" She tightened her grip on the steering wheel to quiet her hands. Just thinking about the wine at home had her salivating to the point of nausea.
"I'm sure they have bigger problems than directing traffic." Paul began tapping out the beat of a song only he could hear.
"Could you stop that?" Lisa snapped.
"What's wrong with you?" Paul asked, "You've been trying to pick a fight with me since this morning."
She couldn't tell him that she had wanted to be alone tonight. He was supposed to have worked the closing shift. Instead she was stuck in a three hour traffic jam, trying to move five miles, with a man she no longer loved.
It was easy keeping this secret from Paul he was so wrapped up in his band and his friends that he didn't seem to care that they hadn't had sex for eight months. She wondered, but didn't care, if he was screwing around on her. She couldn't blame him if he was. She hadn't broken up with him yet because she had nowhere else to go.
"Hello," Paul was waiving his hand in front of her face. "Have you even heard a word I said?"
She looked into Paul's eyes, saw the small scar just under his right eyebrow and let her gaze slide down to his tar stained teeth. When she studied him she wanted to see his faults but all she could find was a dead history. She couldn't hate him.
She put the car in park and grabbed her purse.
"What are you doing?" Paul asked.
She kissed him on the cheek, got out of the car, and walked away.