The Exit

I closed the car door, my leather computer bag sitting on my lap. My feet, already uncomfortable in a pair of modest nude heels, were shoved to the side to avoid old wrappers and fast food bags that littered the floor of the car. I put my seatbelt on and wrapped my arms around my bag, not wanting to rest them on any other surface of my sister’s ancient Honda Accord. I’d already had to lay a clean towel down on the seat to save my navy pantsuit from a questionable stain.

My sister fell into the driver’s seat, blowing a big pink bubble with her gum. Pop! She turned on the ignition. A tired, defeated dinging started.

“Didi, your door is open.”

I grit my teeth. “Marlow, how many times do I have to ask you not to call me Didi? I prefer Delaney.” I turned to my car door. “It looks closed to me.”

“Geeze, okay, I’ll try to remember to call you by your full name, Delaney,” she replied with a slight head shake and emphasis on the ee sound. “And you have to really slam it shut. Something about the latch, I don’t know.”

I opened the door and slammed it shut.

“Please tell me the door isn’t going to fly open while we’re going seventy down the highway,” I said, gripping my bag a little tighter. As if it could do anything to save me.

“I don’t think so?” she said, pursing her lips. And then with a shrug, “It’s never happened before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything!”

She beamed at me, cranked her car into reverse, and rested her elbow on the shoulder of my seat as she backed out of my driveway.

I closed my eyes and did my box breathing.

“Okay, well, let’s hope this isn’t that time,” I said, giving her a tight smile in return.

Marlow plugged her phone into the car and scrolled through music with her knee on the steering wheel.

“Can you keep your eyes on the road, please? I’d like to arrive at the airport in one piece,” I said, grabbing the phone from her hands.

She widened her eyes. “Sheesh, you know they won’t let you take that sick up your butt through security.”

I thumbed through her music, trying to find something tolerable. My younger sister’s taste was an eclectic mix of 2010s rap and early Taylor Swift with a little heavy metal thrown in. I settled on “Love Story.”

“This is a very important interview for me, and I have to go directly from the airport when I land. I can’t afford to miss my flight or look for medical attention when I’m through security.”

“‘You'll be the prince, and I'll be the princess, it's a love story, baby, just say yessssss!’ God, I love this song. You know this was Randy and I’s song? Back in high school,” Marlow replied wistfully, completely ignoring me.

“You mean the same Randy who wore cut-off jean shorts to prom with you? Yes, he was a prince.” I barely contained my eye roll.

I reminded myself for the hundredth time to lock it up. Take a breath, Delaney. My car was in the shop, and although my first choice was a Lyft, my sister insisted on driving me. I knew she wanted to show me her appreciation for letting her stay with me for a while. It had pained me to imagine her haphazardly packed duffel bags and dirty shoes landing on my doorstep. Coming downstairs to my clean, white living room in the morning to see her explosion of colorful clothes sprawled across my couch and all over the floor. But she was my sister. My younger sister. No matter how old we got, my responsibility as the eldest daughter rang loud in my ear, clanging until I silenced it with a yes and a smile.

“Can we turn on the air? It’s a little hot in here,” I asked while surveying the buttons between us. The ones that were there at least. There were several gaping holes where buttons used to be.

“Oh, the air doesn’t work,” Marlow said, rolling down the windows as we sped down the highway.

A blast of air hit me in the face, and I threw my hands up. My face scrunched like I’d just eaten a lemon. At the same time, Marlow jerked to the left, merging into the fast lane. I barely had time to catch my bag before it went flying out her window into traffic. Righting my bag on my lap, I groped at the window controls, but they did nothing.

“MARLOW! Roll the windows up! I spent thirty minutes getting my hair into this bun!”

“WHAT?”

“ROLL THE WINDOWS UP!”

“I thought you said you were hot?”

My hand gripped the car door handle, knuckles turning white. “We don’t need EVERY window down to accomplish a cool breeze!”

I tried the window control again.

“Why does nothing in your car work!” I yelled.

“Hold on, I can’t hear you!”

She rolled the windows up. Wisps of hair clung to my face. Hair that two minutes ago was slicked back so tight I thought it could withstand the blast of a jet engine. But alas, I forgot to factor in the human disaster that was my sister.

“Sorry, what did you say? It was really hard to hear you with the windows down.”

“Nevermind.” I smoothed back my hair. “There’s the exit.”

“I know,” she said, blowing another big bubble. Pop!

“We’re all the way in the left lane, you need to get over.” I gestured with my hand.

“Sis, you need to relax. You’re going to do great at your interview! Just take some deep breaths.” She let go of the wheel and closed her eyes, doing an inhale, exhale motion with her hands.

I lunged to grab it. “What are you doing? Get your hands on the wheel!”

She giggled. “Okay, okay! You’re so uptight, Didi.”

Suddenly, my hands were around her throat. The car jerked to the right, careening us into oncoming traffic. I was screaming so loud my face turned red and the windows broke, all the while the groaning Honda Accord spun around in slow motion, pirouetting across the highway.

Then I was back, frozen in place on this disgusting seat. I snapped out of my homicidal daydream.

“Don’t call me Didi. Please don’t miss this exit.”

“Oh, shit, the exit.”

Marlow floated across three lanes of traffic, barely looking over her shoulder and leaving a chorus of honks and screeching brakes in her wake.

“I never miss my exit,” Marlow grinned proudly.

She pulled up to departures. I exited the car as quickly as possible, slamming the door behind me.

Marlow leaned over, rolling down the passenger window.

“Good luck!” she yelled, giving me a thumbs up and a smile.

I smiled tightly back at her. “See you later today.”

A car honked behind her.

“When should I pick you up?”

“I’ll take a Lyft. You need to go, the car behind you is waiting.”

“I don’t mind picking you up!”

“It’s really okay. Thanks for the ride.”

I turned to go.

“Oh, hey, Didi!”

I turned, my teeth clenched.

“What, Marlow.”

“The car door stayed shut! You made it here in one piece!” She beamed. “Love you, sis!”

She peeled out, cutting off three cars. I exhaled.

“Love you, sis.”