Storymania - Life Is A Journey by Maureen G Mills

Life Is A Journey
Maureen G Mills

Life Is A Journey
Maureen Mills

“1200 Washington Avenue!” Meg said as she jumped into the number 235 taxi. The taxi was clean and smelled like the tree shaped air fresheners. The inside of the cab was a little worn out, the leather was torn in places, but it was still very clean. The picture and registration form were taped on the inch thick glass that separated Meg and the cab driver. The picture was a headshot of a pale man with bright green eyes and a slight smile.
“Why in such a rush?” asked the pale skinned, outgoing taxi driver.
“I just need to get to my ex’s before 7:00PM to pick up my old stuff.”
“So, you’re divorced?”
“Yeah, it was finalized just a week ago, and I’d rather get my stuff without having to run into him. You married?” Meg asked curiously.
“Umm sort of,” he replied hesitantly.
“Oh.”
Meg looked out the window and watched the beautiful night lights of the city go by and the people rushing home from work. She wondered why she had ended up like this. What had she done to deserve this life, a 33-year-old with no job and no love?
“Do you ever feel like you have lived your life for nothing?” Meg asked the cabbie without warning.
“No, I do not. Even on my bad days, and I have had plenty, I still do not feel that way. Life is a journey. It may take you some places that you do not want to be, but sometimes it can take you to beautiful places, as well,” the driver said.
“Well, I don’t really feel like I have been taken to many good places,” Meg said upset.
“It’s sad if you cannot recognize the good things in life,” he said with a harsh tone that caught Meg off guard. It was very silent in the taxi for about five minutes. Meg stared out the window in despair. It seemed like she had been in the cab forever, but it had only been a few minutes.
“So what’s your family like?” Meg asked.
“I have a daughter and two sons.”
“You’re lucky. I don’t have any kids,” Meg said frustrated. “How much longer?” she said, tired of the conversation.
“About ten more minutes. Relax, life is a journey. Enjoy the ride,” he chuckled.
Meg’s throat started to tighten, just like it did during a sad part of a movie when the tears were almost there, but they just wouldn’t come down. As the cab traveled down Madison Avenue, disturbing thoughts started rushing through her head. She could hear the “I do’s” when her husband and she exchanged vows, but they didn’t mean anything. She had lied in the house of God. Oh, how sick she felt. The “life is a journey thing” the taxi driver said was starting to get to her, and she thought she was going to explode! The cab stopped, she took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her straight brown hair, gave the driver the money, and stepped silently outside. Secretly wishing she could explode and let all these feelings out, she felt like crying. All she wanted was someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. Instead she held it all in, the way she had done for the past 33 years of her life.
As Meg started to walk toward her ex-husband’s apartment building, she could feel her insides tossing and turning.
“Life is a journey. Ha!” Meg scoffed as she stomped up the stairs to the building.
“Why would this guy give me advice in the first place? It’s not like I asked for it. I wonder what he meant, ‘Life is a journey.’ Does he even know me?” Meg stopped, sat down on the cement steps and got lost in her thoughts.
What has happened to me? Why am I letting this divorce get to me? We don’t love each other anymore and we know it. We both want the divorce. Why do I feel so lost in the journey of life? I grew up in a fine house. I had two parents who loved me and a brother and sister whom I adore. Maybe I just grew up not appreciating the small things: every laugh, hug, kiss, and ‘I love you.’ Oh, I just don’t know. I have had everything an All-American girl could dream of. I have got to get myself back on track.
Meg knew she had to talk to the taxi driver to figure out her life. She had to find this random man who she thought for some reason might be able to help her, when no one else could. After she picked up her stuff from the apartment, she would try to find him. She could feel the ice-cold December wind blowing across her face. When she got up the stairs, she went to the apartment door, stopped and hesitated to knock. Instead, she used the key she still had and went straight into the apartment only to discover her ex-husband sitting at the table in his living room with one other man and two women.
“What’s going on here?” Meg asked.
“Meg! I wasn’t expecting you here. These are people from the firm.”
“Right, I need to get my stuff,” Meg said sarcastically.
“Um, everyone this is Meg, my ex–wife,” he said nervously. Everyone looked down at their notes. “Your stuff is upstairs in the guest bedroom,” he mumbled.
“Alright.”
Meg started to walk up the stairs. Very confused, she stumbled down the hall to the guest bedroom. She walked in to find her possessions in piles of boxes in a very neglected corner. Meg tried to put everything together, so she could get it down the stairs. In her old dresser, way in the back hidden by her old business suit, which she didn’t need anymore, she came across a few family photos. She sat on the bed and started flipping through them. She found a picture of herself and her sister by a swimming pool. She remembered that exact moment. It was her fifteenth birthday party at her hometown recreation center. She remembered all the fun times she’d had with her family. She put the dusty photos in a box and placed it on the bed. She realized that she used to have a great life until she started not caring. Reaching for her cell phone, she called her sister, Jen, hoping she would answer. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. Meg left a message.
“Hey Jen, it’s Meg. I just need to talk to you… I love you, call me back, bye.”
Meg continued looking at old pictures of her mom, dad, and siblings. She did have a very good childhood. She heard her ex’s footsteps downstairs, so she got up, got the boxes, and started walking down the stairs. She needed to get the phone book to call the taxi company. She wanted that same taxi driver again.
Meg rushed down the stairs, past the living room, and entered the kitchen, searching for the phone book. She wanted to call the taxi company and request the driver of cab 235. She dropped all of her belongings on her grandmother’s old kitchen table. The phone book wasn’t in its usual spot.
Reluctantly, she went back in the dining room and interrupted the “business” meeting to ask her ex-husband where he had put it. The one skinny blonde woman replied, “Oh, it’s above the stove; I had to use it to call for dinner yesterday.”
“Business meeting… yeah right,” she mumbled quietly.
Meg returned to the kitchen silently and sure enough the phone book was right where the blonde said it would be. Meg picked up the phone and dialed the company. Within 15 minutes, she knew the name of the taxi driver, his shift times, and where he and his cab were on break that very moment: Central Park’s Southwest entrance.
Meg stumbled out the door with her stack of boxes, hopped into the nearest taxi and headed for Central Park. Cab number 235 was exactly where the dispatcher told her he would be. To the surprise of the new cab driver, she jumped out of his cab and hopped into the other NYC cab.
“Hey, I’m on break,” the driver said without looking back.
“It’s me- the messed up lady from earlier… remember? I have a question for you: what did you mean exactly by ‘life is a journey?’”
“Well, that is what I have been told all my life by my family, and it always seems to help people.”
“Are kidding me? That’s it?”
“Yeah… I say that all the time, but nobody has ever taken it so seriously. What do you want from me? I am a taxi driver not a psychiatrist.”
The driver looked back to see the woman sitting there in a daze with her mouth hanging open. Meg stepped out of cab and started walking away from the park in despair.
“Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I take this so far? Am I going insane? How could a taxi driver give me the answers to my life?” Meg kept on walking.
She soon found herself in front of an old coffee shop still carrying three awkward boxes. As she peered into the window, she saw that it was 9:30PM and that she had been on this ‘journey’ for two and a half hours. As she entered, the bell over the door rang and woke her up from her dream state. She put the boxes down on a stool at the counter and sat down ordering a black coffee. Putting her head down, Meg could feel the cold counter top touch her wet face. When she lifted her head, she wiped the puddle of tears away hoping that no one would ask her if she was okay.
She looked around the coffee shop and saw a crucifix behind the cash register. She remembered all the times she had gone to church with her family, and the comfort she used to find there. Meg was always told to look up to God and that He would bless her. She remembered her favorite Bible story about believing and having faith no matter what.
She realized as an adult she had not only given up on Church, but on herself as well. As her mother always use to say, “If you don’t have faith, you haven’t got anything.” Faith was once very important to her, and somehow she had lost one of the major keys to life. Then she remembered the three words from St. Mary’s Catholic High School: Faith, Love and Happiness. Meg’s phone started to ring. She picked it up.
“Hey, Meg, it’s Jen. I saw that you called earlier. I haven’t talked to you in a long time. What’s up?”
“I just called because I was thinking about you. Earlier I was looking through some old family photos. I almost forgot how much fun you and I had together. I really miss you. Life has been kind of tough lately with the divorce and all.”
“Meg… I miss you too,” Jen said. “You know I have some vacation time coming up, and I have always wanted to come see you in the Big Apple, so why don’t I come for Christmas? It will be like old times. We can go get a Christmas tree, some Christmas CD’s, and spruce up your new apartment. We can get some movies, stay up late, and on Christmas Eve we can go to Midnight Mass like we did when we were kids. How does that sound?”
Meg couldn’t answer that simple question; her heart was full of so much joy. Tears filled her eyes. She felt secure for the first time in months. “That sounds wonderful,” Meg said as the tears starting flowing down her cheeks. She blew her nose. “I can’t wait. You have no clue how much this means to me. Life has felt so meaningless lately.”
“Well, I have to go, but I will definitely call you soon with my plans. I love you, Meg… and remember, have faith.”
“ Okay, I love you, too. Bye”
“Do you need anything else, ma’am?” asked the waitress who came to take her order.
“I think I have everything I need now,” Meg answered with a smile on her face. She stood up to pay, put on her coat, picked up her three boxes and turned to the door. She took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her straight brown hair, gave the waitress a smile, and stepped outside in silence to hail a cab. She stood there, waiting for the glowing yellow light of the next taxicab.