Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I am hoping to write "12 Short Stories in 12 Months" this year.  I have done the "12 Poems in 12 Months" challenge for several years, but fiction-writing comes hard to me, and I've been reluctant to try this challenge. I wrote this month's story in one sitting today - on deadline day! The prompt was "The Question" with a word count of 1200 words exactly.  

Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

“Could this day get any worse?!” I shouted in frustration.

Standing beside my canted Nissan parked on the shoulder of the country road a hundred miles from home, I watched the clouds gather and darken. I looked into the truck again and saw that Eli was beginning to stir in his carseat and realized that it was past his nursing time. My three-month-old would be wailing for food soon. I prayed that he’d sleep a little longer so I’d have time to see if I remembered my dad’s lesson on changing a flat tire.

I had managed to find and extract the spare when I heard an approaching car and realized it was slowing.

Salvation? Or greater crisis?

The young man emerged from his car and called out, “Can I help you, Miss?”

As he approached my pickup truck, I quickly abandoned the tire and moved to stand beside the door closest to my son’s carseat.

The man was average in almost every way. He was, however, wearing a tie and sport coat, and my first instinct was that salvation had arrived. This man appeared to be the very epitome of a knight in shining armor – sent to rescue me.

Nevertheless, I cautiously and dismissively replied, “I think I can manage. Thank you for stopping, but I will be fine.” I had watched too many true-crime documentaries to allow myself to trust this stranger, no matter how respectable he appeared. I held my breath, willing him to walk back to his car and leave.

I had been absorbed in evaluating the situation and hadn’t heard my son’s beginning cries until the man said, “Oh, you have a baby with you!  You have enough to deal with here. Why don’t I just change the tire while you take care of the child?”

As Eli’s wails gathered strength, the accumulated stress of the day overwhelmed me. What if this man intended harm? How would I protect myself and my child? But it would be dark soon, and there was no family or friend within 100 miles that I could call to come help me. Soon I’d be in an even more precarious situation because of the DARK factor.  

Impulsively, and spurred by the frantic wails now coming from inside the truck, I decided I had to take the chance.

Seeing my inner struggle, the stranger said, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I understand. I promise you I only want to help you. My name is Jeremy Cagle. I live just down the road a couple of miles that way. I was just on my way to a town-hall meeting in Coverdale. I’m a district representative.”

Tentatively I replied, “Thank you, Mr. Cagle…”

“Jeremy, please.”

“Okay, Jeremy. I’m Amanda, and I would appreciate the help.”

Careful not to turn my back completely to him, I opened the door and took my son out of his carseat to comfort him, and Jeremy bent to his task.

Eli began rooting into my chest, wanting to be fed. There was no way I could nurse my son while this stranger and I were alone in the gathering darkness, but Eli’s cries were becoming louder and more demanding.

I walked down the side of the road, passing Jeremy and the rear of the truck and bouncing Eli gently to placate him, then I turned to see Jeremy’s back as he knelt to put the spare on my truck. With the stranger’s back to me, I breathed deeply to calm myself and cautiously adjusted my clothing and the concealing blanket so that Eli could nurse.

“How’s it going?” I called as the baby greedily latched on and began to nurse.

“Should be finished in 5.” Jeremy replied.

“I hope you’re not ruining your clothes,” I continued, to fill the silence.

In the momentary calm, I began to mentally process the events of the last 24 hours.

In the early-morning quiet, I had held Eli and re-read the email from my husband, deployed for the last two months in Afghanistan. The letter was determinedly cheerful and upbeat, but I sensed the tension and loneliness behind Brian’s written words. Miliary regulations kept him from being able to relay any factual information as to exactly where he was and what his activities involved, but it had become clear to me that he was involved in actual combat and that he desperately wanted to be home with his family.

Since I was still on maternity leave, I had impulsively decided that Eli and I needed family around us for awhile, so I had called Mom and Dad and made plans for an impromptu road trip.

It is not easy to do laundry and pack for a trip with a hungry baby for company, so it was after noon by the time I had finished making the necessary phone calls and other preparations, loaded the car, and got myself and my baby started on our journey. We still should have been able to arrive at Mom and Dad’s house before dark, but the universe seemed to have conspired against that goal.

Usually a placid and easily-entertained baby, Eli had been fussy in the truck – not wanting to sleep, wanting to be held. I sang. I talked. Finally, I had stopped and had taken him out of the seat and cuddled a little, hoping that a break would help him feel secure and lull him to sleep. Just as we approached Madison, the only part of our trip that involved urban interstate highways, he, thankfully, began to doze. Traffic congestion worsened with the never-ending road construction that typifies the little city of Madison. No matter what I did, I couldn’t pick the lane that was moving, so we crept slowly along the interstate highway towards the last stretch of country road we would travel.

As Eli slept, I thought about what lay ahead when we arrived at my parents’ house. Eli would be rested and ready to play; I would be tired and still have a lot of work to do before I could rest. Just anticipating the arrival, unpacking, and setting up for home away from home with a baby had me tense, apprehensive, and exhausted. And then the truck began that ker-thunk, ker-thunk battle cry of the flat tire, and this final stress of the day had begun.

Now, standing beside the road in the gathering twilight, re-adjusting my clothing after Eli’s meal and watching a stranger changing my tire, I steeled myself for whatever was next. Would Jeremy get in his car and leave? Or did I have more crisis ahead? I braced myself as I watched the young man throw the flat tire into the back of the truck and brush his hands together.

“Well, Amanda, remember these little “donut” tires are just temporary. You need to drive slowly and get a real tire back on as soon as you can. You have a safe trip now.” He smiled and began moving toward his car.

I cuddled my sleeping baby closer to my chest and stepped toward Jeremy. “I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy.”

“Glad to help! Be careful now!” Jeremy waited beside his car while I buckled Eli into his seat and got into the driver’s seat of my pickup truck.

My heart was light as I drove my happy baby the remaining two hours to security.