Bad Day
By Keith Gaston
BB, the voice stuck in Jasmine’s head, whispered, "You're tired, honey. Call in sick."
"That sounds good," Jasmine purred, pressing her head to the pillow, then “No! I can't do it,” she said, shooing away BB's sweet urgings. "I've missed too many days already."
"You'll regret it," BB replied.
Jasmine had taken five sick days, only one of those days because she was actually ill. Slipping her legs off the bed, she squinted at the daylight coming from the window. "Curse you, sun."
Standing, she stared at the bed.
"Missing it, already?" BB taunted.
"I don’t."
"Liar."
Inside the bathroom, the sink and toilet were so close that her head and butt could touch them simultaneously if she bent slightly. Budgeting herself for a dream house she’d someday share with a man of her dreams required sacrifices, including a shower that never kept its hot water.
"Aaahh! That's cold!"
"Why torture yourself? Gurl, move to someplace nicer," BB said.
"I have to be strong. Stay focused. Out there is someone who'll be able to hear my thoughts. Someone I'll marry."
"Husband? You don't even have a man, honey."
"Shut up, BB. I'm just having a bad morning. That's all."
"Whatever, gurl. ‘Read your thoughts.’ Right! You want a man in your head, date a brain surgeon."
After her shower, Jasmine wanted coffee. Unfortunately, the cabinets were bare.
"No coffee? Gurl, you are having a bad day."
One getting worse by the minute. “I’m running late, anyway.”
"Poor baby," BB teased.
"It’s the devil’s drink anyway!" Jasmine shouted defiantly as she departed.
The scarce parking lot held five cars. Jasmine's old heap stood out among them. Jumping into the blue '94 Ford Aspire, the car whined, rattled, and then discharged dark smoke from the rear. Leaving the lot, she spotted children boarding a school bus.
They pointed at her car and laughed.
She patted the dashboard. "It’s all right. Never pay attention to brats.”
“You’re driving a coffin on wheels!”
Turning on the radio to tune BB out, the Aspire jerked hard halfway to work, and thick puffs of smoke filled the rearview’s mirror.
“What now?” BB shouted.
“Whatever it is, I’m ignoring it!” Rattled, Jasmine nearly swerved into another vehicle.
BB stifled her complaints and instead hummed Puff the Magic Dragon’s theme.
Irritated, Jasmine lost it. “Go on, say it!”
“Say what, gurl?”
“Get it over with!”
“OK. When has ignoring a problem ever worked?”
Another jerk, and now smoke from under the hood. Jasmine kept repeating, “I can make it,” even as black clouds spewed from both ends of the car.
She ignored passing drivers shouting, “Your car is on fire!”
She ignored the engine noises that sounded like choking elephants.
She ignored BB's screaming, “We’re gonna die!”
The Aspire went another half mile.
It died.
Powerless, it coasted to the side of the road. Gratiot Avenue. Rush hour. Jasmine cursed loudly for letting BB talk her into buying the thing. “It’s cheap and reliable,” she recalled BB saying.
“You wanted to save up for a house and telepathic husband, remember?” BB said. “I didn’t twist your arm.”
Jasmine tried and failed to restart the Aspire. She got out and circled to the front, lifting the hood. She fanned at the black smoke coming from the engine.
“You can repair cars now?”
“No.”
“So, what are you doing?”
“I have to do something.”
“You should’ve stayed in bed.”
Defeated, Jasmine shut the hood and got back into the car to search her purse. “Where is it?” she muttered.
“You left it, honey. It’s on the counter recharging.”
“I hate this day,” she shouted.
Jasmine glowered at passing traffic. Not one person slowed.
Stepping out of the Aspire, a shadow loomed. Glancing up, a billboard read: BAD DAY? EAT A SNOOKER’S. It was a candy bar ad.
I need a Snooker, Jasmine thought.
“Like sweets can change your luck. Ha, you wish.”
Jasmine got back into the car just as a car slowed as if to stop. She instinctively hit the emergency lights switch.
“You don’t have any power, honey.”
“Will you keep quiet?”
“Just saying.”
Jasmine opened the door and ran out, frantically waving.
“You look ridiculous!”
The car sped up and drove by.
“See, you looked ridiculous.”
“I hate this day, and I hate you,” Jasmine yelled.
The car slowed again and then reversed. The impeccably clean car pulled in front of the Aspen.
Jasmine positioned herself to block the driver’s view of her car.
“Your hips aren’t that wide, honey.”
Tinted glass hid the driver.
The window lowered.
It revealed a strikingly handsome Black man. He smiled. “Need help?”
Voice caught in her throat, Jasmine gulped.
“Easy, gurl!”
He repeated the question.
Jasmine blushed and gestured toward the Aspen. “Car died. Can I use your cell phone?”
“I suppose,” he said playfully. He stretched out his arm, the mobile in his hand.
Accepting the phone, Jasmine examined the car interior. A Charger. Cherry red. New.
“Charming. Clean. Handsome. Perfect. I don’t trust him.”
“Shut up,” Jasmine whispered.
“Excuse me?” He looked confused.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied.
Jasmine’s eyes gravitated to the man’s hand. No ring. Good. Though that wasn’t enough to confirm his marital status. Yet. I could lead him subtly into the subject, Jasmine considered.
“You? Subtle? Don’t make me laugh, gurl.”
Making two calls, one to work, the other for a tow, Jasmine returned the phone, hoping he wouldn't immediately leave. But she couldn’t think of anything to get him to stay. All that came out of her mouth was, “Thank you.” Jasmine inwardly cursed herself for missing her opportunity.
He nodded, accepting the phone.
“You blew it, gurl!”
I cannot believe my bad luck, Jasmine thought, turning.
“Would you like me to stay until your tow arrives?” he asked.
She spun, concealing excitement, “I would. But I don’t want you late for work…”.
“They’ll manage without me.” He stepped out of the car, revealing his tall, lean frame. “Hi, I’m Calvin.”
“Red alert! He’s a dawg, gurl!”
Woof, woof, Jasmine thought.
They talked until the tow truck arrived.
BB said, “How are you going to get to work?”
“Can I give you a ride?” Calvin asked.
Jasmine nodded, grabbing essentials from the Aspen while the tow’s driver worked. Studying Calvin, she wondered, Can you read my thoughts?
His gaze went to her left hand.
He wants to know if I’m married. The thought made Jasmine’s heart race.
When their gazes met, he asked, “Care for a coffee?”
Jasmine replied, “Totally.”
“Gurl, he’s a dawg,” BB yelled.
Calvin glanced around. “I could have sworn I heard someone shout dog.”
Jasmine’s eyes brightened. Maybe, this isn’t a bad day, after all.
Keith Gaston is a Michigan author, husband and father with nearly 20 novels under his belt, and in 2022 he’ll publish his first comic book.
