Allison decides to hold onto her youthful side as she drives a taxi during her spare time. But one day, her friend’s husband is her passenger. As she takes the man to his destination, he asks for a detour, revealing a side of him she didn’t know. Next, Allison has to decide whether to be good at her job and protect her friend or help show her the truth.
Driving a taxi at 65 years old wasn’t part of my retirement plan, but it became my passion. I had been a writer for a women’s column for the better part of my career, and since retirement dawned, I only wrote a few articles per month.
“Just something to keep the old clogs working,” my editor, Elena, said when I told her that retirement was knocking on my door. “You don’t have to commit to it, Allison. It can be a freelance role, if that’s what you’d like. But just write for us every so often.”
I agreed, what else did I have to do with my time anyway?
But then, the open road, the hum of the engine, and the stories of my passengers kept me going.
“Mom, why?” my son, Darren, asked me. “Like really? Driving people around?”
“You’ll understand the need to do something freeing when you’re older, son,” I told him. “Let me do this while I still can. And what’s better than enjoying what I do?”
Yesterday was one of those days that I’ll never forget because it reminded me how foul people can be.
The previous day, one of my regulars, Jane, called me. She was a lively 55-year-old woman, and over the years, we had become friends.
“Hi, Allison,” she said on the phone. “I need a favor.”
“If it involves those croquettes with the peas that you’re trying to get me to eat, it’s a hard pass,” I chuckled. “What do you need?”
“Mike is leaving on a trip tomorrow, and he needs a ride to the airport. I’m going to be babysitting the grandbaby, so I don’t want to disturb her routine.”
“Sure thing,” I replied, always happy to help.
The next morning, I pulled up to their house and waited. Moments later, Jane ran out, the baby in her arms as she waved to me, signaling that Mike would be out soon.
Eventually, Mike trudged down their front steps, his suitcase trailing behind him as he slid into the back seat.
“Good morning,” I said, trying to be polite.
I knew about Mike, but we had only met once at their Christmas party years ago. I doubted that he even remembered me. He had always struck me as someone who didn’t bother about the next person unless they added value to his life.
“He’s very closed off,” Jane said at the party, pouring me a glass of eggnog. “But he’s a sweetheart once he lets you in.”
“Straight to the airport?” I asked, adjusting the rearview mirror as Mike settled himself down.
“Yes, but first, a quick stop to pick someone up,” he replied. “I’ll direct you. You can just add it to the route, and I’ll pay you at the airport.”
It seemed odd, but I thought nothing of it. It was probably a colleague. Jane hadn’t mentioned why Mike was going away.
But as I drove to the address that Mike had provided, my stomach twisted. There, on the curb, was a young and beautiful woman who beamed as the car slowed down.
Mike got out of the car, a sudden energy to his previously quiet demeanor.
“Hi, honey,” he said, pulling her into an embrace.
“Finally, you got rid of your old hag!” the woman sneered, allowing Mike to kiss her all over her face. “At least we’re going to get one weekend free of her. Remind me one more time, why aren’t you leaving her?”
Mike chuckled and picked up her suitcase.
“Because the house is in the oldie’s name, Nicole,” he said. “And I need to be smart about this. If one of us is unfaithful, then the other leaves with everything. But if we decide to mutually end our marriage, then everything gets divided.”
“Yes, you’ve told me this before,” she said, sliding into the car. “And I’m not stupid.”
Oldie? Hag? My friend was vibrant and fit. She didn’t deserve this. Fury bubbled inside me.
How could I let this man get away with this? Could I really let it slide and drive him to the airport?
Was there any possible way that I could keep this from Jane?
I struggled with my thoughts, but in the end, my conscience was fueled by the continuation of their vile conversation in the backseat. Not to mention the fact that Mike continued to grab Nicole at every chance he got.
I put the radio on, hoping that the music and them being engrossed in each other would dull their senses to reality.
Twenty minutes later, Mike looked up and realized where we were. Back to the place where we had started this whole saga.
“What? Why are we here?” Mike shouted from the back seat.
I hooted as he spoke; my car alerted Jane to come outside.
“Didn’t you ask me to drive you home?” I replied, feigning innocence. “You kept mentioning the house. Seems like I was mistaken.”
At that moment, Jane stepped out of the house, confusion on her face. She saw Mike and the woman, and her expression shifted to shock and then anger.
“What is going on here?” Jane demanded.
“Jane, it’s not what it looks like. Nicole is coming on the trip, too. I did her a favor by fetching her, right, Allison?” he said.
“Oh, really?” Jane’s voice trembled with fury. “That’s not what it looks like. It looks like you were cheating on me with this woman!”
Nicole smirked from her seat.
“Well, now you know,” she said. “Mike’s been with me for a few months now.”
Jane’s eyes blazed as she turned her attention back to Mike.
“After everything we’ve been through, you go ahead and do this?” she asked.
“Jane, I can explain,” Mike pleaded.
“Save it,” Jane cut him off coldly. “Get out of my friend’s car and find your own way out of here.”
She turned to me, leaning against the car window.
“Thank you, Al,” she said. “Thank you for showing me the truth.”
“Anytime, Jane,” I said. “You deserve better.”
She turned back to Mike.
“I want you gone by the end of the day. If you choose to go on your trip, then I will call the kids and ask them to move your things out for you. Don’t forget, because of your infidelity, darling, you will get absolutely nothing from me.”
“Jane,” Mike pleaded again. “Let’s talk about this. This little thing isn’t serious. Nicole and I aren’t anything serious. It was just a little bit of fun.”
“No,” Jane interrupted, her tone final. “Stop talking. It’s over.”
As I drove away, Jane waved at me, a sad smile on her face.
I didn’t expect such a routine job to turn into an episode that would expose my friend’s husband for cheating on her with a younger woman. But I was glad that I hadn’t turned a blind eye to the truth. Jane needed to know, and I was grateful that I was the one who helped her find out.
Now, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of soup next to me as I draft my article for the column. I planned on writing about men and cheating right under our noses. Always clearly disguised under the pretense of business trips or going to visit an ill relative.
It’s always the same.
What would you have done?
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