...and for what?

Amy paused in the doorway and let the winter night’s breeze sting her cheeks. She rested a hand on the wooden frame and inhaled sharply as if she were about to say something. Words failed her though, and she was left silent in the night air. 

“If you’re going, go.” Rachel mumbled from the sofa. 

That gave Amy the inspiration she needed. A colorful tapestry of indignant, righteous sentences flooded into her mind as she fantasized about firing back at her wife’s remark. Despite this, she remained silent. Rachel was only scared, just like Amy. Neither of them wanted this. 

“I’ll be back before you wake up.” Amy spoke into the cold air. The words left her mouth and turned to steam in the wind. 

“Mhmm.” Rachel settled into the couch and hugged a pillow. “Love you.” 

They’d been arguing all day about this. The news called it “Snowmageddon.” Apparently, it was the worst snow system to hit the state in fifty years. All the state’s salt trucks and all the city’s plows couldn’t hope to make a dent in the snowfall. The county was under a level three snow emergency, meaning it was illegal to be on the roads unless there was an emergency. The law made exceptions for medical emergencies or other immediate risks to human life, but of course Amy’s boss could consider missing her shift an emergency as well. 

Amy trudged through six inches of snow and made it to her car. After kicking the snow off her boots, she settled into the freezing car with a sigh. It took three tries to even start the damn thing, and another two minutes just getting out of her driveway. After a hilariously inauspicious start, she was finally on the road. 

Amy was from up north, so she was pretty comfortable driving on ice. Still, she could feel how unstable her tires were in the fresh powdered snow. She couldn’t help but replay her argument with Rachel over and over in her head as she slowly drove down the empty white road. 

“They can’t make you go in like this,” Rachel said. 

“They consider radio an essential service, babe. I’m allowed to drive to the station.” Amy sighed.

“But you shouldn’t! Why can’t you just send your spots by email? It’s the twenty-first century, right?” 

Amy pulled up to a red light and sighed. She rested her forehead against the wheel and tried to think about anything else. The light turned green, though Amy didn’t know why she was even honoring the traffic lights at this time of night. She carefully shifted into first gear and started down the icy road once again. 

“What do you want me to do, Rachel? Quit my job?” Amy groaned. 

“I want you to put your foot down for once! Tell Allan to fuck off.” 

“Is this about the wedding?” Amy narrowed her eyes. 

“The wedding, why does everything have to be about the wedding?” Rachel shouted. 

“You tell me! You’re the one who brings it up every time I make a mistake. Why don’t you just let it all out then? Tell me you’re angry! Do it! Tell me you’re pissed about the wedding.” Amy stepped closer to her wife. 

The escalation startled Rachel, but she wasn't surprised. She just looked at her wife like a mother, regretting her child’s public tantrum. That only made Amy angrier. How come Rachel always got to be the high and mighty one? Her nostrils flared, but she said nothing. She wanted Rachel to speak. She wanted something from her wife, anything. Passion, good or bad. 

“Why am I the only person you get angry with?” She asked softly. “When Allan calls you at three in the morning, verbally abusing you about something that doesn’t even matter, you say ‘Yes sir.’ But when your partner asks you to stay home instead of risking your life in a blizzard, that’s when you grow a spine?” 

That took the wind from Amy’s sails. All of her righteous indignation crumbled to ash, leaving her silent before her wife. She swallowed a few times as sweat formed on her back. Amy didn’t have an answer. 

“How am I supposed to respect you if you won’t respect yourself?” Rachel frowned. 

Once again, no response. 

Rachel sighed, walking past Amy and into the kitchen. There was nothing left to be said. 

Amy gritted her teeth as she pulled up to another light. How could Rachel say something like that? Didn’t she understand they needed this paycheck? The car carefully slid onto the interstate on-ramp, and Amy’s frustration with the road conditions only grew. She could barely keep her car in a straight line. 

“Son of a bitch…” She muttered, shifting to third gear and sliding into what she hoped was an actual lane. 

The few cars on the interstate were moving at a snail’s pace. Amy laid her foot on the gas slowly as she matched the rest of the cars. Things felt relatively stable. The rushing cars blew most of the snow off the road, so the interstate was actually easier to drive on than the roads by her house. 

Amy turned the radio to her station, wondering what spots were playing. She rolled her eyes as her own voice blasted through her car’s speakers. Honestly, why did anybody even listen to her show? Annoyed with herself, Amy started turning the volume down. Then something caught her attention.

“Valentine’s day is right around the corner, so if you’re as lucky as I am and have someone to share it with, be sure to plan early. They deserve it.”

Amy’s stomach sank as she heard her own words through the radio. Why was she even doing this? Rachel was right. She was risking her life out here, and for what? Eighteen an hour and free coffee when the barista recognized her voice from the radio? She thought about what would happen if she died in this storm. Would Allan even care? They’d have a new ass in that chair by Monday. She was driving in a level three snow emergency for a man who didn’t care about her wellbeing. 

That settled it. She was in too deep tonight, but Amy would never put herself in danger for this job again. Next time, she’d tell Allan to take her spots over email and get over it. She gripped the wheel tighter as she thought about how she’d phrase it, when a semi truck blazing by startled Amy back into reality. Crazy bastards. They were still going sixty in these conditions? She took a deep breath and focused on keeping her car steady. 

Another semi blew past with enough force to shake Amy’s car. She squeezed the wheel until her knuckles were white. Every time a truck passed it would toss up powdery snow. This time, the snow got all over Amy’s windshield. She flipped the wipers on and cursed under her breath. The semi merged back into the right lane and stayed about ten seconds ahead of Amy’s car, but it kept kicking up snow. She couldn’t see a damn thing. Her wheels trembled against the snow as she reached a dense patch. She hated this. How did she let herself end up in this situation? How did humans invent such a hilarious death trap and then mandate it to anyone who wanted a job? Above all else, how did we end up in a world where your boss can tell you to drive through life-threatening conditions or you’ll lose everything? 

The semi was still plowing ahead of Amy’s car and tossing mountains of snow her way. She tried to see past the white, but it was too overpowering. All Amy could do was focus on the red hue of the truck’s taillights and hope for the best. 

As if the snow were alive, it parted just in time to reveal the faintest slit of what lay ahead. Lights. Lots of them. The white and red danced together in the black air as wind cast the snow every which way. Amy’s eyes quickly adjusted to the scene before her, but it was too late. A moment could last a lifetime if adrenaline did its job, and Amy certainly felt like time slowed to a crawl as she watched her car grow closer and closer to a pile-up on the interstate. The two semis that had given her so much trouble only moments ago were bent and twisted on their sides. 

Slamming her foot against the brake was Amy’s last act of defiance to the elements that caused this. Of course, this rebellion against reality was no match for the icy asphalt at such high speeds. She crashed right into the semi truck and for a moment; it seemed like the end. Amy’s face slammed against the steering wheel and she lost consciousness. 

When she came to, everything hurt. There was blood everywhere. Her ears were ringing, and she felt an unbearable pain in her chest. The airbag slowly deflated and gave her a look at the pile-up just outside the windshield. 

It was almost tranquil. Amy sat there totally removed from time as she felt the cold air through her cracked windshield and stared at the destruction beyond it. Why? That’s all she could think of now. Why did she do this? She sat up with a cry of pain and fumbled with her shifter. Amy’s tired eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror just in time to see a pair of blazing headlights coming around the bend. Another semi truck. A grimace formed as she considered the morbid absurdity of it all. There was nothing she could do but relax against her seat and hope. Looks like her vow to be more assertive was an hour too late. 

The song on the radio ended and left Amy in momentary silence. Unfortunately, that silence would get cut short by her own voice coming through the speakers. 

“That’s all for today, folks. This is Amy Levy for WBMJ on 97.3, signing off.” 

At least she was in good company.