“Just go around. I’m not driving faster. I’m at the speed limit, asshole!”
I was so nervous, I had my radio off as if that would help somehow. I guess the silence helped me concentrate, but didn’t keep me calm.
A mile marker ran by, pissing me off. I’d figured that it had been five miles by now, but it was only one. This was hell. Demon-fire hell. One part of me was excited to see Gio and start as his songwriter. The other part was scared out of my mind that I would never get to my destiny and be left stranded somewhere on the road.
Both parts remained impatient with this lonely drive.
I decided to sing, but couldn’t come up with anything besides a song my mother would hum to me at night. “Wade in the Water, wade in the water children…”
Another diesel whipped by, rocking my freaking car and reminding me that the little vehicle and I could spin off the road.
“Wade in the Water. God's gonna trouble the water.”
My dad hated the old tunes Mom would sing to me due to them being old slave songs. Slaves worked and sang to help keep the pace of whatever task they were doing. Mom had explained that a leader called out a verse and then the other slaves would respond, answering back in tune. Dad didn’t like anything related to slavery. He’d rather forget it all. Mom embraced it, seeing our ancestors as heroes.
“Who are those children all dressed in red? God's gonna trouble the water.” I read the next sign and realized my exit would be coming up soon. “Must be the ones that Moses led. God's gonna trouble the water.”
Mom said this back and forth tradition was from Africa but had become a part of life on the plantation. What I truly loved about it all was how the slaves weren’t just singing for fun or religion. They’d used the songs to pass hidden meanings and secret codes to get them to freedom.
“Who are those children all dressed in white? God's gonna trouble the water.” I spotted the exit and veered in. “Must be the ones of the Israelites. God's gonna trouble the water.”
One of Harriet Tubman’s favorite songs had been, “Wade in the Water,” a song warning slaves to make sure they stayed off the trail when they ran off. She wanted them to journey in the water as much as possible, making sure the slavecatchers’ dogs couldn’t sniff out their tracks.
That was the power of music. It did more than stimulate the ears and warm the heart. It brought people to freedom, tore away their chains, and made them forget the pain of their pasts. If I researched other ethnicities, I would probably find rich traditions of music that had saved them as well. Hadn’t every race in this world have some bloody historical moment of slavery, mass murder, or genocide? Sometimes, humans could be so cruel.
And sometimes, a simple thing as a song could unite them all, transcending time and space.
An hour passed. My heart boomed in my ears as I got closer to Gio’s property. The wiper on the passenger’s side of my windshield had stopped working. I figured some snow had fallen from a branch or something I’d passed and blocked its movement. But I was five minutes from Gio’s private road and simply wanted to get up there. I didn’t want to stop on the side in the dark and get out of the car where anything could jump out and grab me. I didn’t believe in monsters, but I didn’t look for them either.
“Almost there.” I’d been on the road close to four hours, longer than expected. It was already midnight. I wasn’t a fan of showing up this late. It would seem rude as hell.
I really should have just waited. What the fuck was I thinking? Well, I wasn’t thinking.
I pushed the thoughts out of my head since it no longer mattered. The engine began to click over and over.
That can’t be good.
“Fuck. Fuck.” I breathed in and out, gripping the steering wheel hard. “Come on, baby. We’ve got this. We’ve come so far.”
The snow picked up, painting the path and surrounding trees in blurry white flurries and getting heavier by the second. The engine clicked louder as Gio’s private road approached. Surprisingly, no one was at the guard’s booth.
Too bad my phone isn’t on. I could’ve freaking called. He probably thinks I decided to wait.
Scared to turn off the car, I pulled the window down and pressed the gate’s buzzer. Cold air assaulted me, and I blew out. A rush of winter smoke fled my lips. Thankfully, the gate opened.
Maybe the guard is off tonight.
At the thought, I heard a boom come from the engine.
“Come on now. We’re almost here.” The check engine light came on. “Don’t do that to me, baby.” I rubbed the dashboard. “We’ve come all this way. You only have three more miles and then you can rest or sleep or die and go to fucking car heaven. Just get us there.”