“Look at the jazz show I went to last night!” she said as we stopped at a red light, and she showed me her phone. “Is this the type of instrument you play at school?”

            “No, I play the tenor sax, not the baritone. Mine is not as big as his.”

            “Oh, ok. Anyway, there was something really interesting about the musicians in the band that performed last night. These musicians were all successful men performing together because they share the same hobby of music. You should aspire to be like this. You can always keep your passions as hobbies, but don’t forget about making money and supporting your life in the future,” she said as the traffic light turned green and the car started accelerating.

            “Ok?” I said because I did not get the point she was trying to make.

            She went on as she drove, “These musicians were lawyers, doctors, and businessmen during the day and musicians at night. You should keep pursuing your art and music as long as it doesn’t get in the way of school.”

            I did not say anything. She was always supportive. She was supposed to be because there was no one else left that was. I could feel the speed of the car picking up.

            We made a turn onto the main street of our little town. I stared out the window at the small bakeries, stores, and salons on Main street as we drove by. The space between the car and the stores made me feel distant, like I was going to miss these places.

            She kept on talking, “I respect these men so much for still playing their instruments even though they’re so busy. I think this could happen to you. Don’t you think?”

            “Sure,” I said. That was the only thing that could come out of my mouth at that moment because of my obedience-bashed brain. Dark clouds started covering the sun, and it started drizzling. Under the harsh gloom of the weather, I felt numb.

            We turned onto the highway and she stopped talking. We sat in silence as the car accelerated to highway speed. I felt my body nervously shaking because of the bumpy highway road.  The horrid silence gave me way too much time to overthink every word she said.

            My thoughts were indescribable, I was not in control, I had flashbacks.  My hand reached over to the left side of the car. My hand hovered over the steering wheel and her head began to turn.  In an elongated millisecond and with a sudden movement of my hand, I created an accident.