My dad ran over a guy on a bike. We were in a van and he was backing it up, but then he saw my cousin, so he lifted his body half-way out the window to wave and shout. He didn’t see the biker behind us. I yelled for him to stop, but he didn’t.
He wasn’t really my dad. It was just for a moment that he was. Then he was just a man, a younger guy I hardly knew, which is relieving, because my dad would never do something that idiotic. The bike rider disappeared after that, so in my mind he got away. I think this happened as a parallel to the squirrel I almost ran over yesterday. I came to a screeching halt in the middle of a busy road so that he had time to decide which way to go. My heart pounded hard. I felt like crying.
I sat in the van with some other people I didn’t know and we drove to a place I was unsure of. No one talked about the biker. I willed him to have gotten away unscathed.