Huxley's Wrath

Huxley opened the heavy oak door and stepped out onto his porch. His neighbors hated his door, and they hated the look of his house, for that matter. All the houses on Tempest Way were off-white or beige, uniform, and matching. But not the Minton house. Huxley Minton’s house was bright yellow, with a sky-blue door. The Mintons were known as the neighborhood rebels who often did or said things just to get a reaction from the “normies.” Huxley did not like to go with the flow. Not only was this evident to his neighbors, but it was also never more obvious than to his wife, Olive. Olive and Huxley met at Penn State University. As the class of 2000, they were a part of the new millennium, fresh and new, but Huxley was stuck in the past. Like his dad before him, when Huxley made up his mind about something, he stuck to it, whether he was right or wrong.

The biggest winter storm of 2024 hit the suburbs of Carnewood, and the Mintons’ bright yellow house was surrounded by blinding, bright white snow. Huxley resented Olive’s choice to move outside the city, as he would have preferred to live in the house his father bequeathed him upon his death. A house in warm, sunny Florida. He never liked the decision to come to Pennsylvania for school, but they had the best Materials Science and Engineering program in the country. Ironically, Huxley preferred creating new things, yet all his decisions and beliefs were molded in childhood by his father.

“Let’s move, Olive!” Huxley said as he pulled his circa-1995 blue-and-white flannel over his shoulders. “We need to be at the school to pick up Eddie at exactly 3:30. I tell you this every day. If you would just let me pick up my son on my own, I wouldn’t be late all the time.”

Olive tripped as she slid on the snowy front porch. She landed on her face, but Huxley did not even turn around to help her. “Thanks for the concern, honey, but I’m fine. You didn’t even let me get my coat on, and it’s freezing.”

“You’re not bleeding, so let’s go. I don’t know why you need such a big red jacket anyway; it looks like a sleeping bag. Also, Eddie’s teacher doesn’t care if you hurt yourself or not; they want him picked up at 3:30, rain, snow, or shine,” Huxley said. He is 7 years old; he needs to see us respect the institution and learn to keep a schedule.”

“Since when do you care about respecting what people tell you to do?” Olive said as she stood up.

Huxley huffed, looked away, and finished cleaning the truck off as Olive pushed the snow off her body. He insisted on driving the 1989 Dodge Ram truck. It was another relic his father left to him, but he kept it in prime condition. Most days, he wouldn’t even think of letting it sit through a snowstorm, but Olive insisted on putting the new hybrid in the garage to keep the battery from freezing.

“You know, a few more storms like this and the Dodge is gonna start rusting out. Another good reason to move down south,” Huxley said.

“Let it go, Huxley. My whole family lives up here, and while I am sorry that yours are scattered, I want Eddie to grow up in a family environment.”

“Of course, dear,” Huxley said as he climbed into the cab. “You know, they have better jobs down there for people with my degree. I wouldn’t be out of work right now if more opportunities existed for materials engineers.”

Olive balanced her way across the snowy driveway and somehow managed to climb into the truck without another slip. “You aren’t out of work for lack of jobs. You’re out of work because of your attitude. You’re unwilling to change or compromise. You always put yourself first. Besides, you didn’t get fired. You’re just on administrative leave.”

“If I put myself first, I wouldn’t be sending my son to a school for gifted kids, and I would certainly not be picking him up every single day in my dad’s classic truck. Let’s just not talk about it, alright?”

Huxley’s Dodge roared to life as the thick white exhaust blasted into the frigid Arctic air. He pulled the truck out and drove past his next-door nemesis, Josh Joarder. He was suspect number one in the neighborhood campaign to get the Mintons to paint their house white like everybody else’s. Josh waved, and although Olive tried to wave back, Huxley grabbed her hand and pulled it down.

The Mintons drove in silence for several blocks as Huxley turned onto the main roadway into the city. Traffic was slow because most drivers in the area were experienced at navigating snow-covered roads. Huxley took advantage of the slow traffic to weave in and out between the slow cars.

“Slow down, please,” Olive said. “We can’t pick up Eddie if we are dead.”

“Olive! Please, do not tell me how to drive. I don’t tell you how to cook, even though half the time, you make things only Eddie likes, and I don’t. I ate it anyways.”

Olive unzipped her overstuffed red snow coat and pulled her dark red hair up into a ponytail with the ratty old hair tie that was always on her wrist. “So, it’s back to complaining about my food, huh? For 20 years, you complain. First, you say I only make what I like, then Eddie comes along, and I only make what he likes. I make food you like! Remember on your birthday when I made shepherd’s pie, even though doughy food makes me gag?”

“That was my birthday,” Huxley said. It would be pretty terrible to not make me something I want on my birthday.”

Huxley leaned over and reached for the glove box, where his trusty grey rag was kept, which he used to wipe the fog off the inside of the windshield. As he stretched across Olive’s lap, he heard a rip come from behind him. He immediately sat upright as the truck swerved between lanes.

“Damn it! Did I just rip my favorite flannel? If you had just handed me the rag, I wouldn’t have ripped it. You can’t buy these anymore. I got this the year we met!” Huxley said.

“You didn’t ask me to reach the rag!” Olive shouted.

“I shouldn’t have to ask; you can see the windshield fog up. You didn’t think it would be a good idea to give me my glass rag?”

Olive put her hand over her mouth and raised her eyebrows at her husband. “Anytime I do something I think you want, you yell at me and say you can do it yourself. You never want help. That’s why Dr. Kelpie let you go at work.”

“Back to the work thing,” Huxley said. “Why can’t you let this go? I told you, Kelpie pushed his agenda as lead engineer and demanded we adopt a new protocol. But there was nothing wrong with the old one. The old way was better!”

Olive slammed her hands on the dash and raised her voice. “The old way is always better with you! Old truck, old protocol, old food…nothing new is good enough for you. Our son is learning new things every day, yet you always tell him not to stay the course and do things the way you tell him to. You’re not smarter than everybody else!” Olive yelled.

As Olive’s voice went higher, Huxley’s thoughts turned to rage. Often, when Huxley reached this point in his anger, he did what he always did: he stopped talking. Huxley knew that if he stopped the fight, Olive would let it go, and they would move on. Huxley took one hand off the wheel and stroked his long black beard to channel his anger. His father had a beard. His father had many of the things Huxley now possessed. Olive finally stopped staring at him, folded her arms, and looked out the foggy window. Huxley thought to himself. She never listens; no one believes in me. Not Olive. Not Kelpie. Probably not even Eddie.

The Miltons drove in silence the rest of the way to Eddie’s school. Olive wiped a tear from her face as they both exited the truck and trudged through the parking lot in the snow. It was dark now, as dusk had fallen in the mid-December sky. Huxley wondered why the parking lot lights had not yet come on, so Huxley and Olive squinted through the snow towards the lonely, single yellow bulb glowing on the side of the school, 30 feet away.

The couple made their way through the school to Eddie’s classroom. They were all smiles when they greeted Eddie’s instructor, who, according to Huxley, was too young to be a good teacher. Olive helped Eddie slip on his green samurai turtle jacket as he struggled to get his feet in the over-the-shoe blue galoshes. Losing his patience and not caring that his teacher was watching, Huxley grabbed Eddie’s foot and jammed it into the boot. He did the same with the other one as Eddie’s teacher made what Huxley thought was a judgmental face, and they left the building.

Getting in the truck was filled with awkward silence. Eddie looked at his parents as he was sitting between them on the brown bench seat. He was used to the silence between them, and it made him sad. Huxley returned the truck to the road and headed home.

“What’s for dinner?” Eddie said.

“Whatever you’d like, Ed.”

“I want frozen pizza!” Eddie said. “You know it…”

“We are eating shepherd’s pie tonight,” Huxley said as he cut Eddie off mid-sentence. “It’s time I get what I want around here. Son, you’re going to have to learn you don’t get everything you want. Sometimes you have to play by other people’s rules.”

“But Dad, you never do what people tell you. Mom, said that’s why you stay home all day now.”

Huxley glared at Olive. “Your mom shouldn’t comment on things she doesn’t understand.”

Annoyed, Olive said under her breath to Eddie, “Your father is just upset, hun. If he wants his food, he can have it. He doesn’t know how lucky he is to have a family that loves him and is willing to give him what he wants.” Olive’s voice grew louder so Huxley could hear as she said, “I wonder if it would make a difference to him at all if we weren’t here.”

Huxley swallowed a breath as he once again swerved through snow-challenged traffic. His mind drifted towards the image of what his life would look like without his family. He pictured himself alone in his yellow house, sitting quietly in a chair. He imagined going to work, coming home, fixing his food, going to sleep, and doing the same thing the next day and the next. He smiled as he focused on the lack of grief his wife and son gave him in his fantasy, as they weren’t there.

Huxley snapped back to reality as Olive yelled across the cab, “Watch what you’re doing! You are weaving in between cars when it is way too slippery for this kind of driving. Are you trying to get us killed?”

Just then, a city bus pulled off a side street directly in front of Minton’s. “Just great. A damn bus. It is gonna take us forever to get home.”

“Huxley, do not try to get around this bus; you know those city drivers don’t care about traffic rules,” Olive said. “Please don’t get us killed.”

“It’s fine. I’ve done this a million times,” Huxley said. He stepped on the gas and blasted into the left lane, speeding up as he attempted to get ahead of the bus. There was a new model, black SUV in front of him, and unless that car sped up, he would be caught between the slow SUV and the side of the bus.

Slowly, Huxley inched closer and closer to the SUV, trying to get every bit of space to get past the bus. Eddie leaned forward and watched his dad get dangerously close to the car in front as his dad swore under his breath. Olive grabbed Eddie as the bus swerved into Huxley’s lane, trying to get him to slow down and back off. Unwilling to back down, Huxley slammed on his horn to signal the SUV. The SUV jolted forward.

“Please, just slow down. We don’t need to be home quickly. Just drive safe,” Olive said.

Huxley wasn’t listening. He knew he was right. He ignored the quiet, mousey voice in his head that whispered he needed to let go of his anger and be right. This was getting dangerous. Ignoring the warning from within, he jammed on the gas. Huxley’s truck veered in front of the bus but was not far enough to pass it. The bus’s horn screeched into the night as the driver jammed on the brakes. It was too little too late. Huxley panicked. What have I done?

The bus clipped the back right corner of the truck as Huxley and his family spun off the road and into the ditch. The momentum slammed the family forward into the dashboard, but thankfully, they had their seatbelts on. The last thing Huxley saw was the front end of the truck sliding into the thick, snow-covered brush as it skidded to a halt. He had bounced his forehead into the steering wheel and blacked out.

“Where…where am I?” Huxley said as his vision cleared up. He found himself in his fantasy. The bachelor pad he envisioned without his family was always in his business. There was no yelling, no back talk, and no pressure. As he walked around the empty house, he sighed a breath of relief as he knew he was safe, or so he thought. His life flashed forward to endless days alone in the house, repeating his mundane routine.

Sleep, eat, work, eat, sleep over and over without end. Sure, it was quiet and peaceful, and although there were no screams or fights, there were also no smiles or laughter. There was no Christmas morning like watching Eddie joyfully open his microscope and fancy laptop. There was no shepherd’s pie on his birthday and no one to say goodnight to before he slept. He was alone. Always alone. For years and years, his empty life flashed before his eyes, and he heard the echo of Olive’s voice, “You’re not smarter than everybody! Can’t you just do what you’re told? I want to fit in for once; please just let us be a family…”

Suddenly, Huxley was shaken awake. The man in the SUV that Huxley had been tailing turned around to help him when he saw the truck veer into the ditch. “You alright, fella?” the old gentleman asked. At first, Huxley thought he was seeing his father, but as his vision came into focus, he saw an elderly man wearing a red fur trapper’s hat, a long brown coat, and black army boots, who flashed his tactical flashlight in Huxley’s face.

Huxley looked around for his family. They were sitting in the old man’s car, alive and well. They were crying but belted out a cackle of relief when they saw Huxley open his eyes.

“Gotta be careful on these roads, pal. You’ve got a family. You gotta change with the times, fella. Can’t be actin and drivin like the old days. You’ve got people to watch out for now,” the old man said as he helped Huxley to his feet. “That damn bus didn’t even turn around. That’s city folk for you. Always doing what’s best for themselves.”

Huxley thanks the man for his help as they use the SUV to pull Minton’s truck from the ditch. When Olive and Eddie went to get into the Dodge, Huxley looked at them longingly. “Wait…just wait,” he said. He hugged them both as he began to cry. “Let’s go home, huh? And maybe I will take the back roads. The snow will be thicker, but the truck can take it, and there won’t be as much traffic.”

The family got into the truck, and Huxley gently pressed the gas pedal. He waved to the SUV driver and felt a sense of peace after a lifetime's worth of anger was let go.

“Are you alright, Huxley?” Olive said.

“Yeah. I think I am. I tell you what, when we get home, how about I call Kelpie and tell him I will adopt the new work protocol? I need to get back to work, and progress means moving forward, right, son?”

Eddie smiled as he hugged his dad. “Dad,” he said, “I will eat shepherd’s pie for dinner even though I don’t like it.”

“You won’t have to, son. We are having frozen pizza because it’s your favorite. You know, I think it’s starting to grow on me,” Huxley said as he cautiously drove home.

The family reached Tempest Way as they drove past Josh Joarder, still out there shoveling his driveway. Huxley waved at him as Josh’s jaw dropped open, and he slowly waved back. The usually irate man stepped out of the cab, landed in a fresh sheet of snow on the driveway, and sighed. “I love the snow,” he said.