Ive seen it all, mum hissed as we squeezed into our ancient Ford Escort. Do you think Im blind? Youve been twirling around that blonde in the red dress all evening!
Tom and I exchanged glances. I hadnt noticed anything, and Tom later confirmed that dad was merely being polite to a guest.
That night stuck with me forever. We were driving back from the birthday party of dads old university mate, and darkness had already taken the reins. The stars were scattered across the sky like silver confetti on a black velvet backdrop. Dad, who usually jokes and sings while at the wheel, was unusually quiethed been told not to sip a drop of alcohol because of his medication. Yet, according to mum, that forced sobriety didnt stop him from flirting with some young lady.
Eleanor, stop making up stories, dad said wearily, turning the ignition. Thats Irene, we graduated together. Just old friends, thats all.
Mum wasnt having it. The glow from the dashboard lit her face, which seemed to radiate heat. Twice she demanded we pull over, hopped out onto the verge, and walked along a road flanked by young pine trees. Dad followed each time, their silhouettes melting into the night. Once I caught a glimpse of them standing facetoface, dad gesturing wildly as if proving a point.
While the parents argued, Tom and I launched an Easteregg battle. Grandma had dyed the eggs in onion skins, giving them a deep amber colour with quirky streaks.
My ones tougher! Tom bragged, proud that his egg survived another roll. Just you wait, thisll beat them all!
When mum and dad finally returned to the car, a heavy silence settled over the seats. We drove in mute for about five minutes, only the wind whistling through the halfclosed doors. Mum sat curled into a ball, her shoulders trembling.
Dont go losing your head, you silly mare! she burst out, as if a dam had burst.
Then it all came spilling out She rattled off dads endless business trips, his late nights at the office, even the way hed glanced at the waitress in that café three years ago. Words like hate, ruined my life, youre moving back to mums, and the ominous divorce hung in the air like shards of broken glass.
Dad mostly stayed quiet, offering occasional, Calm down or Youre exaggerating. His face wore that familiar expressionraised eyebrows and pursed lipsthat never failed to set mum off.
Suddenly the car lurched, coughed, and stalled. Dad turned the key; all we heard was a wheezy sigh.
Bloody hell! dad hammered the steering wheel. Brilliant! Just perfect!
Mum fell silent in an instant. Her anger turned to panic.
Whats happened? she asked, her voice trembling.
I dont know. The engines died and wont start.
Dad stepped out, popped the bonnet. I pressed my forehead against the window. We were somewhere between the last village and our little town, its lights twinkling on a distant hill. On either side of the road a young pine forest grew dark. I remembered gathering birch mushrooms there last autumn, their caps hiding among the golden needles, slick and smelling of the woods.
The carburettors choked, dad said, heading back inside. Well need to find help.
Im not staying here alone! mum grabbed my hand. Its dark and scary.
We trudged toward the village that melted into the suburban fringe. Dad knocked on the first house with a light on. A man in a greasy jacket answered.
Need a hand? he croaked.
While dad explained the situation, mum spotted a lit church a short walk away.
Well wait for you there, she said to dad. A church is brighter and less frightening.
We rarely went to church. Mum called herself a believer, but she only turned to God in the toughest moments. Dad was an outright atheist, calling religion a relic of the past.
Inside, the church was bright and solemn. A crowd packed the nave, the air scented with incense and fresh scones. On the choir loft, voices floated up, thin and high, as the music seemed to climb toward the dome. Mum bought three thin wax candles at the entrance.
Lets light them and say a prayer, she whispered. Ask for help.
How do you pray? Tom asked.
Just speak from the heart, mum replied, pulling a white scarf from around her neck.
I watched mum approach the large icon of the Virgin Mary, pause, and murmur something softly. In the candlelight her face looked peaceful; all traces of fury vanished.
I tried to pray too, but didnt know where to start. Should I ask for the car to be fixed? That seemed too petty for the Almighty. So I simply asked, deep inside, for mum and dad to fall in love again, for our house to be calm and bright.
When I opened my eyes, Tom was nowhere near.
Mum, wheres Tom? I asked.
We started pushing through the crowd, looking for him. Twenty minutes passed and panic rose. Mum was about to dash after dad when, at the doorway, we saw a familiar shape. It was dad, with Tom clutched in his arms, eyes bright.
Where did you find him? mum rushed forward.
He was in the church shop, eyeing the gingerbread, dad grinned. The cars already running.
How? You said
I dont know, love. Honestly, dad said, shrugging. We got back to the man, he dragged out a rope, I sat in the drivers seat, turned the keyand she roared to life, as if shed never broken down.
We stepped out of the church. Our nine really did sit at the entrance, a thin wisp of steam curling from the exhaust.
Easter miracle, mum whispered, crossing herself.
We drove home. The scent of pine needles and oil mingled in the cabin. Mum stared out the window at the flickering lights, then rested her hand on the gear lever. Dad looked at her, then, slowly, placed his hand over hers.
Im sorry, he murmured.
Me too, she replied.
Dad brushed a kiss to her wrist. And thats how we made it to the front doorhand in hand, dad briefly letting go of the gear just to find her again in the dim glow of the car.
Tom slept on the back seat, and I watched the road fade away, thinking that sometimes miracles do happen, even to the most ordinary folk on the most ordinary evenings.
