Car Conveniences
Modern cars are so convenient.
Late at night, Helga supported Tom through the hallway of their town house. She only wore a night robe.
Tom was heavy, a little too heavy, but he couldn't walk on his own. He leaned hard on Helga's shoulders, babbling. "Thag ew, ah do fe guh." His breaths came hard and wheezing.
Helga had found him on the floor on her way to the bathroom. God only knew how long he'd been there. He barely responded to anything in some half-awake, sluggish state.
Gripping Tom's back with one arm, Helga used her hand to twist the front door knob and fling it open. A short walkway led to Tom's car. A small red light blinked by the door. The HOA-mandated security system would alert the authorities if the door stayed open more than 30 seconds. So, Helga lugged Tom through, then kicked the door shut.
A deep, maroon, starless night sky domed over the cozy little housing development. A stale breeze flapped Helga's robe. Buzzing street lamps provided the only noise, aside from Tom's breath.
Then, she reached in her robe pocket and fished out a fob. She pressed a button, and their gray SUV beeped, signaling its opened locks. With one hand, she yanked the passenger side door open, and she all but dumped Tom in the seat.
She raced to the driver's side and hopped in. Her finger pressed the console's round start button.
The engine remained inert. A gentle voice came from the speakers. "You are not authorized to operate this vehicle."
Helga's fist banged the steering wheel in desperation. "Come. On. Tom's in no state to drive, and we can't afford an ambulance."
No response from the machine.
Helga tapped her foot nervously. Thoughts raced through her mind too quickly for her to assess. Then, one idea struck her dead on. Maybe she could get Tom into the driver's seat to start the car.
She burst out of the driver's side, dashed across the front of the car, and tore open the passenger door. She leaned down and wrapped Tom's arm over her back. "C'mon, Big Boy, just gotta get you to the other side."
Tom flopped against her.
She stood, hauling him slowly up and out of the car. He felt like a huge sandbag more than a person. She dragged her foot forward and stomped. With wavering, weighted steps, she pulled him over to the driver's side. She guided his hips into the seat.
His back slumped forward, and he honked the horn with his chest. He was definitely in no shape to drive himself.
She pushed him upright. Then, she pressed the start button again.
The engine revved to life.
Helga clapped. "Hallelujah!" But she had no time to lose. Again, she slung Tom's arm over her back. Again, she lifted him. Her back ached with his weight as she plodded him back to the passenger side. After she dropped him in the seat, a huge relief flooded her muscles, but her nerves swirled her stomach. Her legs faltered like jelly as she once more crossed over and got into the driver's side.
She backed out of their parking space, then turned towards the end of the court, one for each slender house.
The car bumped over cracked asphalt and bounced through wide potholes. Big cars packed either side of the road.
She reached the stop sign at the end of the court.
A white car stopped in front of her. Its roof flashed with red and blue lights. A man in a white uniform stepped out. He caught Helga's eye and mimed rolling down the window.
Helga wondered what he wanted. She pressed a button in her door, lowering its window.
He stood by the driver's side door, raised a flashlight, and lit Helga. "Ma'am, is this your car?"