“Luke,” Eliza groaned. “Let’s go. You were supposed to be at school twenty minutes ago!” She hopped into the kitchen, pulling on a shoe with one hand and eating a granola bar with the other; a disaster just waiting to happen. Apparently thirty two is the age multitasking became second nature.
“No more kindergarten!” Luke chanted repeatedly. As Eliza chased her son around the house, she wondered what made her think having a child at twenty seven was a good idea. But she remembered why as she glanced at the pictures on the walls. “Each photograph is documentation of your life.” Eliza’s mother used to say to her whenever she complained about posing in front of the camera. Each snapshot captured how she felt at the time. As her five year old jumped down the stairs with his shirt inside out and hair sticking straight up, she wished she had a camera then to hold onto that moment.
“Mommy!” he cried, leaping into her arms.
“Hey buddy,” she set him down and patted his unruly curls back into place. “We need to go unless Mommy is going to be late for work.” Eliza looked at her phone. Eight forty-seven. Shit. “Okay time to go.” She grabbed Luke’s Spiderman backpack and paper bag lunch. “Now.”
The two rushed to the car, Eliza piled in her papers and photographs for her story in the newspaper. Luke silently settled himself into his car seat. Outside, it was just beginning to rain, washing away the previous day's pollen, but bringing in dark storm clouds. Luke wiggled in the back seat. Sixteen minutes to get to the elementary school. Thirty four minutes to get to the Boston Herald.
As she drove, she was silently cursing herself. Last year at this time, she was doing odd jobs, working as an assistant- occasionally rose up to the role of part time secretary. Collecting and organizing the drafts and giving opinion on the layout and approving what photos looked best where. Whatever busy work you can think of, Eliza did it all. But her heart yearned to be a journalist; and now after seven years of commitment, she had finally worked her way to being the trusted journalist she knew she was. People were probably saying that she didn’t deserve the promotion. Being late was not something trusted journalists did. Eliza drove a little faster.
“-and then the elephants took over the whole world!” Luke was laughing as he clapped his hands and shook his juice box. “Pow pow! Boom! Elephant guts!” Eliza felt a spray of Capri Sun misting her knuckles.
“Lucas Joseph,” she turned around, facing her son. The radio spewed out incoherent static. “Calm down, we have places to go and-”
Suddenly, Eliza wished she stopped and clicked a picture of her son at home. She wished she listened more carefully to make sure Luke was secured in his seat. She wished the next moments were frame by frame shots so she could alter the finished product like she does at work.
Click, click.
Eliza’s fingers slipping on the wheel.
Click, click.
The speedometer said eighty-five.
Click, click.
The windshield shattering into a million crystalline pieces.
Click, click.
Luke’s tiny body flying from the unbuckled seat.
Click.
