DESS
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Dess heaved herself out of her old minivan and sighed as the rusty old thing loomed at her, threatening to eat her. Well, kind of, Dess thought, if all the pictures of monsters that the kids had drawn on the side of the car in permanent marker were real. Dess glanced at all of the other cars in the parking lot. They were all shiny and new. The best thing about them was that they were small. Dess scoffed at the huge piece of heavy metal that was her 15-year old car. "Get out!" Dess cried, glancing nervously at her watch. She couldn't have the kids to school late again! "I don't want to go to school!" Charlotte screamed from inside the car. "I want to be a fairy princess!" Dess yanked open the rear door of the minivan and stuck her head in the door. Pressed into the rear corner of the minivan was Charlotte, Dess' 6-year-old daughter. Dess plunged into the back of the minivan and yanked on her daughter's hand. "Go to school," Dess levelled with her daughter. "And I will buy you some new fairy wings." Dess knew that she couldn't afford new fairy wings at the moment, but hoped the 6-year old would forget about her little deal by the end of the day. Charlotte's face lit up. "Really?" Charlotte asked, her eyes widening with awe.
"Er, yeah!" Dess cried. Dess lowered her voice. "If you go to school, that is." Charlotte thought for a second. "Let me wear my fairy wings to school today and you have a deal," Charlotte said to her mother. Dess scowled.
"O K!" Dess said, annoyed. Charlotte pushed past her mother and pranced out of the minivan.
"Out of the car, Dylan," Dess called down the cavernous minivan to her 10-year-old son, who sat in the front seat.
"Mommy, where do babies come from?" Dylan asked for the 13th time that day. Dess rolled her eyes. "I told you already, Dylan – babies come from a special fairy! Now get out of the car!" Dess could see that Dylan wasn't completely convinced. "Don't you dare ask those sixth-grade kids about babies!" Dess cried. "Or I will beat your sorry ass!" Dylan smiled mischievously at his mother and followed his sister through the school gate. Ada smiled up at Dess, and Dess smiled back at her 1-year-old daughter. At least one of her kids liked her. "Guess it's just you and me, Ada," Dess said softly, and then she pulled herself into the front seat.
The old garage door rattled as it forced its way downwards. Dess kicked the garage door in disrespect as she walked past it and into the house, carrying her handbag, a backback, Ada, and a take-away coffee. A moaning noise came from the sofa. Dess almost dropped Ada. Dess dumped everything on the ground, including Ada, and ran over to the couch. "Jonathan!" Dess cried, eyes wild. "Get up!" Jonathan could not be late today, not again. Jonathan moaned and opened one eye. "I drank too much last night," he muttered.
"Get your ass up!" Dess yelled. "Get to work! You're going to be late!"
"Get your ass up, get to work," Jonathan mimed. "Why don't you go to work?" Dess rolled her eyes, and grabbed Jonathan's hand. "Get. Up," Dess said firmly, yanking her husband up from the couch. Dess pulled her husband into the bedroom, and undressed him, one garment at a time. Dess replaced his old pajamas with a bright, white shirt and a sharp suit. "Okay!" Dess cried enthusiastically. "Time for work!" Jonathan moaned and collapsed in Dess' arms. Dess groaned and hugged her husband. "I guess I'll have to drive you to work!" Dess cried. "Wait here!" Dess ran into the living room and picked up Ada. Dess ran into the bedroom, and tugged on Jonathan's arm, dragging him into the garage. "Let's go!" Dess said angrily, shoving Jonathan in the passenger seat of his company car. Dess threw Ada into the backseat and strapped her baby-seatbelt on. Finally, Dess collapsed into the driver's seat and pushed the micro-chip into the ignition. The car started. "Welcome, Jonathan," it welcomed. Dess was blinded by the light of many buttons and her nostrils were filled with the smell of cheap, Indian plastic. Dess uttered a soft cry and flicked her sunglasses over her eyes, shading them from the bright light of an artificial world. Dess breathed a sigh of relief.
"It's Dess, actually," Dess muttered, pressing buttons to re-adjust all of the settings in Jonathan's car, which was actually new. Dess smacked a button on the dashboard and the garage door opened. "How convenient!" Dess cried, slamming a lever downwards and lurching the car backwards. The car lurched out of the driveway. Then Dess remembered something. "Where is Jonathan's work?" Dess asked herself. "How do I get there?" Dess remembered visiting Aerospace Oklahoma during midnight as a teenager, but couldn't remember how to get there. Then the car spoke up. "Are you heading for Aerospace Oklahoma?" it asked.
"Damn, you cars are cool!" Dess cried. "Yes, I am. Guide me there, oh mighty one!" The car spoke up again. "Head straight," the car instructed. Dess did so.
Dess didn't pay attention to the speed signs, but instead she paid attention to the small clock that sat in the dashboard. She had five minutes to get to Aerospace Oklahoma. Jonathan sat, slumped, in the passenger's seat, snoring softly. Dess kept her foot planted firmly to the ground as she pushed the little engine of the budget Indian car as hard as it could go. Dust billowed from the back of the car as Dess took shortcuts across desert. Jonathan would not be late today. Exactly 4.5 minutes after leaving the house, Jonathan's work car screeched into the carpark, tyres squealing. Dess threw open Jonathan's door and pushed her husband out. "Get going!" Dess cried, throwing an old bagel that sat on the dashboard into her husband's mouth. Jonathan chewed quickly and broke into a run that carried him towards Aerospace Oklahoma, where he worked as a poorly-paid physics scientist. Dess did a little victory dance and pressed the accelerator gently.