I passed through the town, which was made up of a gas station, a farm supply/feed store, a school, a small market with a cafe, and a hotel. I'm not sure how the hotel stayed open, but I guess it was thanks to the full bar in the lobby. I still hadn't seen any other cars out, but there was a UPS truck stopped outside the market. I wondered if the people here had embraced the internet and ordered things for themselves that they otherwise would have to drive a hundred miles to obtain. I wondered when Wal-Mart and Starbucks would be opening.

The town was behind me in a flash, and I kept on going the last seventy miles toward my aunt's house. My cousin had called a few days earlier to dryly inform me that she had died. He asked me to come and help sort out the house, and as an afterthought suggested I come for the funeral. She was my father's sister, older than him by seventeen years, and not fond of him or my mother or their children. I went mostly out of a desire to drive down these old farm roads again, to think and breathe alone, away from the frenetic pace that my life had seemed locked into for the past dozen years. This cousin was, as far as I knew, the last living relative I had except for my siblings. Our family had never been very large, but it was eerie to see it dying out.

I was aware in the back of my mind that I was meditating more than really driving. I slowed down a bit so I could take in every detail of the landscape; the insects catching the light, the black furrows of earth between the rows, the soft green grass near the shoulder of the road. I was relaxed and calm and aware of my breath. The sun was beginning to set, and I watched the long shadows the trees cast upon the road. The impact so shocked me that I didn't realize for several moments what was happening. My seat belt kept me from flying through the windshield, and I could already feel pain where it had restrained me. Time slowed like it does whenever something dangerous and jarring occurs, and it could have been a couple or many seconds before I slammed my foot onto the brake. The car stopped and I smelled the skid marks settling into the pavement. I had no idea what I'd hit. I wanted to get out and check, but I couldn't move yet. When my hands went to unbuckle the belt and open the door, the tremors in them made them almost useless. I stood on wobbling legs and dazedly walked back down the road to see what had occurred.

There was a man laying dead on his back in the road. There wasn't much blood, but he was certainly dead. His neck was grotesquely broken and his eyes were open, staring at me. There wasn't a house or car in sight. I do not know where he came from. I stood looking at him, unbelieving. It occurred to me that this was a case of suicide. If he'd wanted a ride, he'd have waved from the roadside. I was far from the shoulder, near the middle of the road, probably over the center line. He must have jumped in front of my car. He wanted this. I went back to look at the front of my car. The bumper was dented. It was hard to tell in the fading light if there was much blood, but the damage was mercifully light. I opened the trunk, moved my suitcase and grabbed a roll of paper towels and a bottle of water. I washed off the front of the car as best I could, left the paper towels in the ditch at the side of the road, got back behind the wheel and started toward home. I'd call my cousin later from a pay phone and tell him that I couldn't get away from work.

After all, my real reason in coming this far wasn't to do with my family. It had been to help that poor man die.
Jf7(8)