The Road Where Everything Stopped

The afternoon heat shimmered above the two-lane highway that curved through the rolling countryside outside Lexington, Kentucky, while the late summer sun pressed down on the windshield of my graphite-colored SUV, and for a brief moment I had been listening only halfheartedly to the woman beside me describe floral arrangements for our engagement party, thinking instead about quarterly projections and an upcoming acquisition that had consumed most of my waking hours.

“Slow down, Ryan. Pull over right now.”

The sharpness in Celeste Wainwright’s voice sliced through the quiet hum of the engine, and because I had grown accustomed to reacting quickly to her impatience, I pressed the brake pedal almost without thinking, feeling the vehicle shudder slightly as dust lifted from the shoulder of the road and drifted across the glass.

I turned toward her, puzzled, while she leaned forward and pointed past the hood with manicured fingers that trembled not from fear but from disdain.

“Look over there. Isn’t that your ex-wife? I swear that’s her.”