Washing Hands

He cracked the thin sheet of ice atop the garbage can and washed his hands with the snow that remained underneath. The grease from the headlamp well had dirtied his hands.  He was thrilled it washed off without much effort.  Did you get those wipers on already?  the clerk asked as he snapped in place another man’s wipers.  No, they’re not for me.  They’re for my wife.  He asked Can I attach them for you?  Asking a man to attach his wipers for him is rather emasculating he thought.  He couldn’t bear to witness it, and for others to see.  Other men like himself wincing through their car’s windows, the store windows.  He would rather drive wiper less, the metal of the arm scraping a wide, perfect arc on his windshield.  He could hardly buy toilet paper.  It was a sign that people knew he actually shit.  It was the same with the diapers.  No, he wasn’t so concerned about having a child, but that people knew how that child came to be.  What they must be thinking. It was too much pressure to bear sometimes.  He was an awkward person but liked to believe he was a private person.  When he talked it was to divert attention away from what mattered, though he never said much.  And for better or worse he was often witty.  Grounded with a sense of humor that was a gift.  He had lost it. 

He drove out of the gray auto parts store lot and onto the main thoroughfare.  My God he thought.  He imagined himself driving west on the outer-belt, circling once or twice around the city.  He would simply exit, just exit on the nearest west highway.  The city would reflect itself in his rearview mirror, yellow and gold, a treasure unfound.  The note he left wouldn’t say much—“Getting a new headlamp and wipers to replace the worn wipers on your car.  Dinner?” 

He drove too close to the berm.  The rough-cut pavement chewed his tires shaking him out of his half-sleep.  He woke thinking about the note he had left.  He imagined himself rather polite for leaving a note at all. 

It’s a God damn shame that what brought him back was a pair of $20 windshield wipers.  His hands were still cold from the snow.