The fuel light had yet blinked to blink on, but he knew he would have to stop before he reached the state line. Eli had been on the road for three hours already, and the sun was just barely peeking out over the trees. He had tried to keep his visit as short as possible, arriving just an hour before the funeral began, and leaving the house before dawn. He didn’t want to alert anyone of his departure when it would only drag out the process. A green sign on his right flashed by, indicating only another five miles until the next exit to a gas station. Eli tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but it only left his eyesight a little blurrier. He reached for the volume knob and lowered the chorus of some cookie-cutter country song so he wouldn’t miss his exit. He wasn’t even sure why the radio had been on in the first place.
His sister had been the one that loved music. Since the time she could walk, Hope had put on little shows for the family, always taking center stage of the living room floor. No one minded, of course, because Hope was the baby of the family, the one who got everything she asked for. Eli had been jealous of her as kids, looking on as Hope got an extra scoop of ice cream or an additional two or three presents at Christmas. Their older brother and sister, Jack and Sarah, had been too busy being teenagers to notice how Hope had stolen the spotlight from Eli. But instead of saying anything, Eli would just clench his fists and squeeze his eyes tight, pretending he was in someone else’s life.
He flicked his turn signal on and slowed considerably to take the cloverleaf exit. Pulling into the nearest gas station, Eli switched off the engine. He sat for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, and thought about all the times he had hated Hope. He hated her when she was seven and knocked over his school project. He hated her at his tenth birthday party when she blew out his own candles. When Hope started high school, Eli had been tasked by his parents to watch out for Hope, and he hated her for that, too. He didn’t want to put his junior year on hold just to make sure Hope knew how to get from homeroom to gym class. He had hated Hope for most of his life, and now his hatred was permanent. When a person dies young, they stay young forever, and the memories you have with them are what stays with you.
The car behind him honked, startling Eli back to the present. He sighed, ran his fingers through his dark curls, and opened the door of his Ford Taurus. He took the nozzle out of its holder and began pumping gas while shaking his head to clear it. He didn’t want to remember Hope as his despised kid sister. But then again, he didn’t have a lot of memories of her that made him smile. It wasn’t her fault she was the youngest. She didn’t ask to their parents to treat her as if she was their greatest achievement. Hope was a lot of things to Eli, but conceited was not one of them. Maybe Eli shouldn’t be blaming her for all the things he never got, but it’s always easier to point your finger at someone else than admit your unhappiness is your own fault.
The moment he moved the tassel to left, Eli left home and didn’t look back. He wanted to start a new life that focused on himself instead of being a part of a life that was focused on Hope. Eli, picking up the nozzle to put it away, noticed the sun had climbed a little ways in the sky, promising a hot and humid day. He got in the car and headed back towards the highway.
By the early evening, the sky had darkened with heavy clouds and the wind had picked up considerably. The wheat fields that extended on either side of the road rippled and waved to Eli. He thought of the way Hope waved goodbye to him the last time he saw her. Winter break had ended and he was finishing packing up the Taurus. She stayed in the doorway as the rest of the family came out to send him off. She kept one hand on the frame while the other waved to Eli as he backed out of the driveway. He couldn’t get the broken look on her face out of his mind. Over the entire break, Eli had said maybe two words to her, although she had constantly been trying to talk to him as if nothing had ever happened between them. That wave of hers was as if Hope knew it was the last time and wanted just one good day with Eli. But to him, Hope would always be disappointing. It was better for him to keep her at arm’s length.
The clouds were brewing into a threatening storm. Not even the air conditioning could stave off the Tennessee humidity. The image of a white casket flashed through his mind, closed for the ceremony. Yellow tulips, Hope’s favorite, had filled the small church. Eli could still smell them. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to pretend his life was not his own.
He never saw the car coming.
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