My Favorite Guest

A rainy day outside, it's pouring, and raindrops glide down my car window like kids on slides at the park. I'm behind the wheel, precisely a few inches away actually, my hand gripping it like I've seen Baba do while he drives or any random Uber uncle or the cool edgy character in the film driving to escape her problems ( by the way really have to experience that someday.) 

This feels different, poles apart from the times when my small excited hands couldn't really touch the wheels or reach the pedal, but still gave it my all to (pretend) drive, but now it isn't difficult for my anxious hands to do the same anymore (not very dhoom machale of me, I know)

I've learned my ABCs, I read them out loud inside my head- Accelerator- brake-clutch. Easy. Just like my instructor taught,  "remember your gears" he said and I quickly make a mental note of that too ( you ace 14 years of schooling and travel halfway across your graduation only to realize remembering gears while driving could be tough- life's funny.

Seat belts on, left feet on the clutch, right on the accelerator, comfortable outside but a strange suffocation clutches onto me, it's like the ocean trapping your lungs and you're submerging deep into the big blu- shake it off. Get my mind off it.

I turn and twist the key. The ignition hits and before I can put all of my efforts to push that stubborn clutch under, a twisted synapse in my brain fires, like a wire breaking off and the whole electrical circuit shuts off- a domino effect really, and my body reacts. 

A congenial numbness, it's just a matter of seconds before it'll settle in.

Here she comes- gently gripping my heart, I can hear her beat through the thin seatbelt, the noise poking its way to below my ears.

 She shows up, and walks in with all her long red panic-flowing dress, her beautiful cold hands, all over me melting inside me, freezing, numb, warm again. She appears on my hands, the steering wheel's all wet. Embarrassment is like her welcome tea, brings it along all the time that she's here. 

The strength of my grip doesn't matter anymore, my hands keep slipping.

It drips away, but she sits quietly comfortably now, even more so- she's familiar, knows the way.

"If I slow down I get hit, if I don't might lose control and there goes the car into a tree ( so much for 'plant a tree save a life'- won't be mine),

One wrong turn one long push on the Accelerator, just by a millisecond and I will hit an unsuspecting dude going about his business or a kid playing with his friends- wanting to go get the ball the moment my frivolous hand's behind the wheel, or maybe a small animal gets to be my victim?"

Ugh, how will I live with myself?

Their family is a victim of a stupid chick behind the wheel? I spiral, or maybe I let myself, at this point, the lines are all blurry. She's smiling at me from inside, it's like she catching a movie at the theatre and I'm the lead actress( only this onecan't drive)- enjoying her view as I struggle and gasp, thinking all the gnarly thoughts she's bought me as gifts. The ringing stops.

Truly my favorite guest- my anxiety.

I can hear the car and the scooter behind, honking their lives away, as the guest of honor settles in.

Just me and my fear of driving against the world.