Pooka

On the way to The Night Shift tonight I realized I needed gas. At the same moment I saw a young woman driving a late 90's Honda Civic. She was slightly hunched over the steering wheel and her long light brown hair was almost brushing it, her face hidden. The image of the woman and the thought of gas brought something up from the past and I momentarily lost the present.

Before I had my licence my high school girlfriend would always drive us around. She had a white two door SUV with the licence plate "Pooka". Whenever we would stop for gas she would religiously, almost ritualistically, open her glove compartment and turn off her phone. If I had my phone on me she would not get out of the car until I had turned mine off as well. After a while it started to irritate and eventually enrage me. I'd sit in the car fuming because of the minute or two she would take to turn off her phone.

She did it because her mom told her to. Her mom had read some article about a cell phone exploding at a gas station or maybe even an article about that being something that could happen. At 16 she didn't rock the boat, never rebelled, got along great with her parents. Me at 15 could not understand her attitude and was constantly exasperated when she refused to stay out past curfew or lie about where she was going. Her obeying her mother in the minutiae of turning off her phone while at the gas station became an emblem for me of her obedience. I frequently instigated arguments about it, needling her until she would engage.

I came back to the present gradually. Stunned by the vividness of the memory. Part of me wishes I could go back and do it all over again. Not to relive my youth or the glories of my past.

To put things right.