Page 21 - The Houseguest

She pressed the gas pedal and whirred past the speed limit signs. The speedometer reached 65, 75 and 85 before she began to take note of her surroundings and calm her heavy foot. She hadn’t had time to familiarize herself with the controls of the vehicle and was unaccustomed to the way the car handled. She’d been driving a convertible prior to receiving this outlandish gift and the brakes on that vehicle were not as sensitive. She pressed her foot to the Viper’s brake pedal with the same amount of pressure she’d been used to applying to her convertible.
The car began to veer. She panicked and overcorrected the wheel. Before she could gain control, the Viper had spun and was headed west in the eastbound lane. Cars swerved, tires screeched and horns blared out their warnings.
Karina had just picked Katie up from school and was driving our Highlander to meet me at our beach house in Sag Harbor. I had purchased the house for her on our third anniversary as a place where she could be near the ocean, be one with her thoughts and find the solitude she needed to create her poetry. It was only about a four-hour drive for us so we would spend long weekends and holidays there together as a family. Katie and I spent countless hours collecting shells and watching the incoming tide slowly engulf our sandcastles while Karina worked quietly in what she dubbed her “Inspiration Room.” The room was situated in the corner of the house with a full view of the ocean and access to a small personal balcony off to one side.
Though I wasn’t there to witness the tragedy, the details have replayed a thousand times in my mind in the years since. I imagine Karina’s
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life