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Show 285 But then she knew that she was not going to attend school today. Without having thought about it, consciously anyway, she just knew. And she found herself singing as she dressed, humming as she made breakfast for the kids. She helped them into their raincoats and rubber boots, and despite the close gray day, they caught her carefree mood, and as they left the house for school, they were laughing and shouting. So now the day was hers. Hers. As she walked out to the car waiting at the curb-with its film of dampness on the white, glistening metal-the closeness of the gray fog made the day snug, inviting. Where would she go? She fit the key into the ignition, starting the engine, a small thrill of excitement within her starting with it. Well, as long as she was going, it didn't matter. On the move. Wherever the hood of the car pointed. It took her down Sepulveda Boulevard, through the airport underpass, leaving Westchester behind, then turned south down Pacific Coast Highway. With the wipers clearing the mist from the windshield, their constant soft rubber scrape, the oncoming cars with their headlights on, coming toward her out of the fog. Off to her right, an occasional break would expose the wet, deserted beach and the murky gray water, the waves small but choppy. For an hour she drove, the hood pointed southward, dropping away from the beach at Palos Verdes, and then coming upon it again at Long Beach. Below Long Beach, the traffic began to thin, until there were no headlights on the road, nor in her side mirror. It seemed like she could drive forever, sealed alone in this damp gray fog, the |
