by Rani Drew
It was the right moment. Waiting for him in the car, pulled up by the road. He won’t be able to make a scene. The engine was whirring away. He was coming back. A smug smile on his face. Last night was a mistake, I knew it now. He leant over and gave me a peck. This was the moment, I urged myself. He was backing the car with a flamboyance that offended my dithering speech.
‘Careful’, I shouted. A sudden screech and I was thrown forward. An old woman lay on the road. A flurry of action. The ambulance was called; the police arrived. He was asked to appear in court to answer the charges. I was the witness.
In the witness box I heard myself testifying that the old woman had appeared from nowhere, that the road was clear when he had backed. The old woman admitted she usually crossed the road anywhere. The case was discharged. He was smiling.
We got into the car. ‘Thank you’, he bent over and kissed me. The moment returned. This time, I will not let go of it.
‘Ken’, I said, ‘I will move out tomorrow. It is divorce.’ I had done it.
Rani Drew is a playwright, poet and short story writer. She has been published in poetry and fiction magazines in Canada, USA, UK and in translation in Romanian journals.