picking up aidan
It was September. Monday afternoon. Crumbled fragments of decayed leaves took their first flight emerging from the gutters of the street. The wind swept the landscape and shook the trees into unfamiliar shapes. What was more peculiar about this forgotten landscape were the brooding colours that drifted gently from each tree, with soft reds, sharp browns and jagged oranges floating across the cobbled road, and the most fluorescent of g. This chunk of the forest had been virtually forgotten by time, as if it was Keele’s equivalent of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Practically untouched, the humidity of the trees drenched the forest in a silver like glow of water vapour. Though cars passed through occasionally, sometimes rarely, most of it was concealed in the many folds of flora and fauna that formed there years ago; rotting away similar to that of the grime covering an old 30 Mile sign. As the warm rays of sunshine pierced through the trees onto this road, so did the wheels of Zadie’s car.
She already knew that Aidan had finished school 10 minutes ago, also realising that she’d be another 10 seeing as how Tunstall would be at least 7 miles away. She sped along the roads, repeatedly saying “shit”, over and over again. She often used vulgarity to exclaim her annoyance with simple tasks she hadn’t completed. Though this task seemed as if it was more of a challenge, it was still a simple one. The car sped along the intertwined country lanes; each corner decapitating the many dandelions that perched their heads along the side of the road. The silence was broken by the smoke leaking from the airwaves of Zadie’s engine, as the oxygen outside swallowed up the vast amounts of C02 the car was firing out. It was almost as if her engine was the sole catalyst for all the emissions in the earth’s atmosphere.
Suddenly, a small vibration came from inside her coat pocket. It surprised Zadie to a point where she almost lost control of the car. Knowing it was her phone, she plunged into the darkest recesses of her pocket, between the loose change, cigarette buds, weed nugs and bus tickets. Struggling to see who was trying to phone her , she soon noticed the substantial traffic queue building up in front of her. With all her power, she screeched to a halt. The force of her feet pushing against the brakes was enough to obliterate them into dust. Her head was inches away from slamming straight through the wheel.
She picked her head up and threw back the hair covering her face. After realising she dropped her phone, she scoured the surface of her car floor to find it. It was safely nestled in the passenger seat.
“Of course”, she sighed.
She swiped up to see that her mother called her.
She rang back. Each repetitive ring droned through her eardrums as she waited.
“Zadie!” screamed her voice down the phone. “Aidan is here, crying his eyes out asking where you are! How long does it take you to get from there to here?! I feel as if I’m fuc…”
Zadie hung up before she continued ranting. Her head slunk into the back of the seat and travelled further downwards until she was staring at the ceiling. Knowing what was in store for her, she began to groan and weep, as if she was on the verge of a breakdown. The feeling showered over her like a plague of locusts. This was the second time she let her brother down this week. And what was worse, her mother's Skoda was out of action. It couldn’t possibly get worse.
Until she remembered that she was still in the traffic queue.
The cars behind her banged on their horns like war drums. This was followed by a hurtling of varied bangs and beeps. She lifted her body up from the slouched position it was comfortable in and peered her head out the window. Someone dressed head to toe in Tike clothing appeared to be screaming at the top of his voice, throwing out a barrage of different profanities. Zadie knew what she needed to do.
She stretched over to the far side of her dashboard to grab a red USB stick and plugged into a USB port near the gear knob. She waited with a pained expression as a selection of different albums and artists appeared on the car screen. She pressed play on a ‘beat tape’ that her friend Roxanne recommended. Though her previous recommendations of DJ Okawari and Marcus D had fallen short, for being ‘to clean’, she was sure Freddie Joachim would be more here cup of tea. She hit play on a song called ‘Autumn Rain’ and pumped up the volume to a level which could possibly deafen others.
Zadie opened the door and clambered up to the roof of her car. Though it seemed dangerous to do this on a busy road, she couldn’t care less. Then, struggling to get a perfect seating position, she crossed her legs in a sort of Zen Garden meditation esque fashion and let her hair take shape with the wind. The final item to complete this was the pack of silk cut cigarettes she stowed away in her other pocket. She stared out onto the landscape, watching the leaves blow into dust through the clouds, whilst the sounds of car horns drilled into her skull.
She took a long drag from her cigarette; releasing a giant puff of smoke. She promised herself she would quit at the start of the new year, but she never really lived up to any of her other New Year’s promises. They were just forgotten pieces of undocumented history.
This is better than the others, she thought to herself.
“Oi, stop fuckin sulkin and get off the fuckin road!” shouted an elderly man.
“Suck my dick” screamed Zadie, as she lay back on the roof. As the elderly man’s car went around her, she extended her middle finger in his direction; keeping it there for the next three cars that followed.
This was a low point. Even for her.
