Honk!

Honk!

My delicate ears cringed at the blaring sounds of angry horns echoing among the sea of restless vehicles.

The air conditioning in the car begins to falter, as Austin and I spent most of our stuffy hours, lighting cigarettes and blowing smoke through the cracks of an opened window.

Although New York's cool breeze rushed into the car, Austin, Kristy, and I have been sweating fluids down on our faces, necks, and undergarments.

Believe it or not, Kristy's once great air conditioner stopped working minutes after we stumbled across an extensive line of impatient Chevys, Hondas, and Toyotas.  

Inspecting the sky, I anticipated the once beautiful sea blue atmosphere becoming the color of my dark indigo highlights. As the sun had plunged into darkness, small, white stars sprinkled across the clouds like Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Small, innocent clouds became enormous as giants, as the cold, blistering wind harassed miniature trees and lazy puffs of air.

Speaking of puffed clouds, Austin decides to pass the time by giving me an unused cigarette stick and offered to light it for me.

Although Kristy was in the car, I decided to take his illegal offer by having him stick the cigarette into my mouth, then torched the end with a silver lighter.

Thanking Austin dearly, I removed the cigarette from my mouth, rolled down the window beside me, and blew out a cloud of smoke, which squeezed itself through the cold air.

Smelling the stench of overcooked hamburger meat in behind her, Kristy adjusted her mirror to see me and Austin smoking our cigarettes.

Witnessing her eyes glaring at us in the mirror, at first, I thought we were going to be in serious trouble. Never in Kristy's life has she seen me being disobedient.

To her, she thinks I am a perfect example of how a girl should behave. Kristy never saw me drank beer, swear, or smoke a cigarette, until now.

"Damn it," I think to myself, putting down my cigarette.

Maybe I shouldn't be abusing Kristy's trust. After all, she and Olivia were like the mothers I have always wanted.

But ironically, as her squinted eyes captured the torched cigarette in my hand, Kristy lets out a tired moan, takes the fresh cigarette stick from her mouth, then asks Austin if she can have a light.

"Wait, what?!" I cried in pure shock.

Normally Moms wouldn't let their sons go one centimeter near a cigarette.

Looking at my surprised reaction through her mirror, Kristy sighed, "look, I know I am not a good role model, and Olivia is on my ass about my smoking habits, but I just want to get through today. Okay?"

Austin nodded as he fumbled in the dark, grabbing the small, silvery gray container in his right black pocket, stretches his arm over to Kristy, then gives it to her.

In the meantime, I watched the traffic as it begins to move very slowly. Between a few puffs of smoke, my dark blue eyes glanced in Austin's direction, who had finally retrieved his silver lighter from his jacket pocket.

As he opened the device, Austin placed his thumb on the gray lever, hovered the lighter underneath Kristy's cigarette, then watched as the small flame emerged from the candle, and onto the cigarette's butt.

Sizzle!  the orange flame hissed sinking into the chalk. In front of me, I can see the fading stream of gray smoke rising from Kristy's burnt cigarette.

Then as she finally switched on the lights, Kristy put it into her mouth, takes a deep breath, lowers, her window then exhales into the chilly New York atmosphere. 

Thanking Austin, Kristy takes out the cigarette from her lips, blew two clouds of nauseating smoke, then grimaced at the quarreling cars ahead of her.

Most of the drivers were disputing about their driving skills, while some shouted at the stoplights to change color.

"Like that's ever going to happen, " I muttered, slipping my cigarette back into my mouth.

Shooing away the trail of visible smoke, Austin gave me a curious look. Between his index and middle finger is a cigarette with a charcoal black spot, blossoming like a benign tumor.

Listening to my earlier comment, Austin asked me what I had said to myself.

"It's nothing," I insisted, blowing the gray vapor from my mouth.

Austin nodded very quietly. "I know traffic can be a pain in the ass, but I am sure we are going to make it to the funeral."

"We better, " I grunted. "I'm not sure my dad can handle me being gone for two hours."

Exhaling the fumes, Austin tossed his cigarette through the opened window crack, slick back his hair, then asked: "speaking of your dad, how is he doing these days?"

After relieving the clouds of pale smog onto the car's roof, I gave him a suspicious look.

"What do you mean by that?" I inquired.

Austin shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I just want to know if your dad is doing okay."

"What do you mean by 'okay' ?" I snorted, avoiding his gaze. "Joseph is a cop, he hates talking about Isadora, and he loves making my childhood a living hell."

Kristy, who was sitting in the front seat, listened quietly at my bitchy complaints.

Although she didn't experience neglection when she was little, Kristy and her wife Olivia would always let me come over to their place and cook dinner.

But still, Kristy, Olivia, and Austin couldn't stop worrying about me. At first, I thought they were being kind and grateful, but now I felt like they are forcing me to open up more.

It's not bad getting to admit how you feel and all, but I wanted nothing to do with my feeling; I just want to make films, graduate, and get away from Joseph.

Surprised by my cold gesture, Austin scoots a couple inches away from me, giving me some space.

Next, he gets rid of his cigarette by rolling down the window and tossing it out on the pale gray pavement.

Finally, Austin rolled the window up, closed his eyes, then drifted into a long, yet satisfying nap.

As he slept, I pulled away from the tip of my cigarette, then blasted a thick, menacing mist from out of my mouth to an opened window.

As I smoked,  massive sweat puddles grew on the back of my black dress. The despicable fluid left a bitter odor in the air, forcing me to endure the wet socks, smelly bathroom sinks, and foul cigarette stench.

Ugh, I thought, picturing myself lurching on the intangible road.

Waving the strong smell away from my nose, I looked at Austin and Kristy's defeated faces.

Like me, their foreheads were drenched in sweat, fingers covered in cigarette ash, and their once great spirit began to fade out, like the flame of a mere candle.

Stricken by this, I thought about Joseph at home, snoring after he had eaten a poorly made sandwich. Although he was as sharp as a tack, Joseph didn't know that I snuck out of the house.

Studying my cigarette in shame, my mind tried to focus on the road, but I kept thinking about Joseph barging into my empty bedroom, looking for me.

Running my nervous hand through my brownish-blonde curls, my first desire is to tell Austin and Kristy the truth.

That Joseph didn't give me permission to attend Elle Jones' funeral.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at Kristy, whose brown eyes never left the road. Like a stubborn child, her pink lips pouted; her cigarette showered ash onto her bare legs, making it match the color of my horrified face.  

"If I tell her the truth, what would Kristy think of me?" I wondered.

Will she think of me as a spoiled bitch or, a girl who desired to say goodbye to her idol?

Not only was I scared of her reaction, but also Austin's.

They both seemed lenient to take me into their home, cook me dinner, and ask about my future jobs, but if they were in my shoes, would they understand me?

Looking at Kristy again, I take a deep breath, closed my eyes, and was about to tell Kristy the truth, when I noticed the red stoplight finally switched to emerald green.

On cue, everyone—from burly men to hardworking mothers—slammed their feet against the gas pedals, making the long line diminish by twenty-three cars.

Putting down my cigarette, I glanced at Kristy—who is watching the ashy ringlets float in the air—and exclaimed, "hey, I think the cars are moving!"

Startled, Austin had woken up from his nap as Kristy removes the cigarette from her lips, then gazed at the traffic-free road in awe.

"Oh, thank GOD!" she moaned, starting her car. "For a minute, I almost thought we were going to be trapped in this damn traffic forever."

Then as she shoved the key into the ignition, Kristy slammed her left foot against the gas pedal and zipped across the lane. 

Several different cars—large and small—continued escalating down the highway, as Kristy's unbridled joy caused the vehicle to quickly maneuver around dangerous potholes, oncoming pedestrians, and anxious cars, whose drivers showed no mercy telling the others to back off.

Zipping under the green light, Kristy glanced at the time on the radio, while Austin and I bounced in our seats.

The good news is, the cold air—which is now flying inside the car—devoured the scorching heat, eradicating every trace of sweat dripping down our bodies.

However, the unfortunate news bore down on us, when I examined the green numbers on the radio telling us that it is 6:30 p.m in the evening.

"What time does the funeral start again?" I inquired Austin, who moaned at the vigorous clock.

The sparkle in his brown eyes begins to diminish, as Austin buried his face into his hands then says in an annoyed tone: "we were supposed to be there at around 5:30."

I looked at him in surprise. "What time does the funeral end?"

"Does it matter?" he groaned. "We have just wasted an hour, twiddling our thumbs in a traffic jam. We are never going to make it."

Grimacing at Austin's defeating speech, Kristy gazes at the road, bites the orange tip of her cigarette between her teeth, told us to hang on.

Austin gave his mother a deadpan look.

"What does it matter?" he asked in a discouraging tone. "We are late to a funeral."

"We can still make it," insisted Kristy. "Jack and Austin, are your seatbelts still buckled in?"

"Yeah," we said in unison.

A beautiful smile spread onto her lips as Kristy tightened her hands on the steering wheel.

"Good, " she says, bobbing her head in our direction. "Now, hang on tight and don't let go."