THE UBER CONFESSIONAL - Shel St Clair

Mysterious Uber Driver

The iridescent white minivan pulled into its destination and glided to a stop. A driver looked down to where his cell phone sat in its cradle. The app told him he was at the correct address, so he looked around. The house was a pinkish brown, the color of dried Pepto Bismal, and had a hacienda look. In the front, one lone Canary Date Palm had just reached a height to provide shade to three children who played under it in bright noon sunshine. They stared at him behind a black chain link fence encircling the front yard and waved. It was a modest house in the center of a modest neighborhood in Hialeah, Florida, like hundreds he had seen. He smiled and waved back, hoping his rider wouldn't take too long.

A man emerged from the front door, down a center sidewalk, and exited the gate. He got into the front passenger seat, "You Rafael?"

"Yes, I am," a beaming face replied. "Are you Brad?"

The passenger nodded and quickly surveyed the driver as they drove away. He was a handsome older man with curly, greying hair and a fantastic white beard. His seat was too far forward, making it perilously close to the steering wheel but providing easy cell phone access. He slouched slightly, wearing a long-sleeved, striped Brooks Brothers button-down, stiffly starched khaki slacks with expensive work boots peaking from the bottom of the legs. It was as though he didn't realize he was in the tropics, giving him the distinct look of a midwestern college history professor.

"Welcome to my Uber. I have any cord you might need for your phone. I play classical music, but you can connect with the aux cord and play any music you wish. There are Kleenex and paper towels if you need them, and if you want me to adjust the temperature, just let me know." The voice issuing from the distinguished-looking driver had the deep resonating quality of a radio announcer. It projected a sense of well-being and comfort, and Brad immediately trusted the older man.

"So, you're going to the casino. Do you work there," he asked?"

"Nah," said Brad. "I gotta get outta that house and blow off some steam. Hey, when I ordered the ride, I saw you had a five-star rating. Very impressive. No wonder! Your car is gorgeous, and you're dressed much better than an Uber driver."

A deep throaty chuckle responded to him. "Well, I aim to please. So, you need a relaxing evening and thought you would spend it at the casino? How much do you plan on losing?"

"Everything," he joked back. "But I'm not even sure there's anything to lose. Not really."

Brad glanced at the driver again and wondered why he felt so comfortable in his presence. He was angry, frustrated, and confused when he walked to the car. But now, sitting in the leather seat listening to a violin on the radio, something about the driver's person worked on him as a muscle relaxer. He felt the dam of anxiety inside him begin to crack, and he poised an exploratory question, "Man, you look old enough to know? What if you love a woman but think she's just using you?"

A pensive "Hmmmm" was all the driver replied. But like a soothing cocktail, it opened his emotions and invited confidence.

"Yeah, I met this girl six months ago. The week I moved to Florida. We hooked up immediately, and I thought it was love at first sight."

"Oh, you just moved to paradise," the driver asked companionably. "Where are you from originally?"

"All over, I was an Army brat as a kid, and then I joined the Army," he replied, glancing again at the older man. Even though his minivan was top-line and still had its new smell, he seemed out of place in an Uber. There was a slightly unearthly quality about him. It would have been more believable to hear him giving counsel to world leaders. Maybe it was the old guy's beard. It was immaculately groomed and instantly assured you of some pristine quality in the man's character. Brad would usually find this prissy and a bit irritating. But instead of setting him on edge, it gave him confidence in the man behind the beard. When he ordered the Uber, he had been wound tighter than an eight-day clock and planned on a night of hard drinking. But now,  he placed his elbows on the armrests, "Hey, do you mind if I let the seat back a bit?"

"Of course, whatever makes you comfortable. There is a bottle of water in the console if you want."

The trip was forty-five minutes, but it allowed him to rest. They turned left off Le Jeune Rd onto Okeechobee and headed for the Turnpike. At this time of the day, the traffic would be pretty heavy, and he would close his eyes for a moment. His fortieth birthday was in a week, and some of life's minor problems should have worked out by now. But he was more confused than ever. Why was the guy driving so tranquil, as if he didn't worry about the world? Sighing, Brad adjusted the seat and asked, "What would you do if you were me?" Now, Brad was ordinarily reserved, not used to asking for advice. Maybe it was his confused emotions, loneliness, recent changes, or perhaps just the guy's beard? He didn't know, but something opened the floodgates, and all his problems flowed into the Uber driver's patient ears.

Why hadn't his life turned like his parents? They met while his dad was stationed in the Philippines. Forty-five years and four kids later, they were still happy. So why couldn't he find the right girl? He had been in ROTC during college and then entered the Army. He loved it but thought it would turn out the same way it had for his dad. A wife, a few kids, traveling the world, but that hadn't happened. The few times he had been close to marriage, things would fall apart. It hadn't been such a big deal until he found himself retired, in Florida, almost forty, and in love with Auralee.

He met her at a retirement party friends threw for him. They went to a Miami strip club for one last wild night together, and there she was. She was so sweet and beautiful that he couldn't believe the attention she had shown him, as if he were the only man in the room. She had been a dancer but stitched to a server because of her kids. Brad was shy and always let women make the first move. And Auralee had certainly done that. She moved in so strongly that he was living with her and three kids in two weeks, and they began discussing marriage. But talk was all it turned out to be. Six months later, they were still talking.

Here, the driver empathetically chuckled, and Brad sighed in frustration. "She's only twenty-eight, and I love the kids. They're pretty good, and I suppose it's easier than having my own. I would even adopt them. But sometimes, I have this eerie feeling, a premonition of sorts, that she doesn't love me. She tells me she's so in love, and we have the most phenomenal sex, but she spends hours talking to her ex every day."

"Oh, there's an ex?" It was a question, but Brad felt the driver already knew and was inviting him to continue. Brad eerily thought the bearded man knew what he would say before saying it, but he continued.

"Yeah, he's not a bad dude. He owns half the club where Auralee works. Rich, but he's an alcoholic. She broke up because she didn't want kids growing up with a drunk. They hooked up for nine years, and she had three kids with him; that's pretty strong stuff. She says she's over him. She tells me I'm the only one she ever really loved and wishes the kids were mine. But, if that's true, why does she keep putting off getting married?"

"I think she still loves the dude, and I know he still loves her. Half the time, I feel she only has me around to pay the mortgage and make him jealous."

"What makes you think he still loves her," queried the driver.

"The dude is a fifty-five-year-old Cuban who owns a Miami strip club. He ain't spending hours a day talking to some woman he doesn't love."

A deep, hearty laugh answered this; it was so compassionate that Brad joined in. He felt his heart revitalizing and almost wished the ride was longer.

"Where are your parents now," asked the resonant voice behind the beard.

"Oh, they live in Ohio, on a farm outside Columbus. It's beautiful up there, with rolling hills, forest, and rivers, but butt-ass cold in winter. No, give me the beach. Yeah, I thought of moving there when I left the Army, but I work remotely for a government contractor so that I can live anywhere. And why not live in paradise?"

"Oh yes," said the driver, "I've always lived in paradise. I would never leave."

"Funny you ask about my parents. I'm so torn up about Auralee that I thought of moving there for a while. I love farming and could help my dad until I figured things out. I was so mad when you picked me up; I planned to split tomorrow."

"And the girl?"

"Yes, that's the question. What to do about Auralee? I do love her, but that may be the sex. You know how that is. I don't know. She will not stop talking to her ex; she says they're best friends, and needs to keep him involved with his kids. It makes me so pissed sometimes, but if I were the dude and wanted her back, I would keep her on the phone, too. So, you can't blame him. He seems just as frustrated by the bullshit as I am. So, which one of us does she want?"

"That seems like a simple question. But why doesn't he help her out if it's about money?"

"Oh, but he does. He pays a crapload in child support. I only pay the mortgage and electricity; it seems fair 'cause I'm living there."

The Toyota pulled under an awing at the Casino entrance, and Brad felt disappointed the ride was over.

"Well, I hope it all works out for you. But you may be approaching it wrong. You think the real problem is you don't know her mind. So, you want to figure out what she's really up to; then you'll know your next move?"

"That's right."

 "Hum, do you know what you want? If you were at any other point in life, would you have put up with Auralee? Do you know your own heart? Sometimes, it isn't whether it's real gold but what it was used to make. A golden calf is absolute gold, but it is still an idol, not God."

Brad stared at the Uber driver in stunned silence. It had never occurred to him that even if Auralee wanted him, maybe she wasn't worth fighting for. "Thanks. No wonder your customer service rating is perfect."

The driver left the parking lot and headed toward US 1. He would go south toward downtown Miami, picking up riders along the way. The afternoon was full of standard riders: older women headed to the mall, a mother took her kids to the local pool, and teenagers went to Starbucks. He gave them each his opening speech. The teenagers took him up on playing their music and practically blew his eardrums with rap. Everyone chatted with him casually and thanked him when dropped at their destination. But while he drove, he meditated on Brad.

"God," he said aloud, "what a nice guy. He needs to win today, not lose. And he needs set up with the right girl." The older gentleman didn't believe the beautiful Auralee was the one. But you can't tell people what to do; they must figure it out themselves. After his brief, informal prayer, he anxiously looked down at the app on his phone.

There was another long ride; he loved the long ones. Google Maps took him to a Chinese restaurant behind the Fountainbleu Hotel across the Causeway. Outside waited the fashionable couple he was picking up. They were in their early thirties, and both wore the look of success as casually as they wore their expensive clothes. This should be interesting, he thought and chuckled, a story as old as time.

The tall, handsome man opened the side door for the woman, and they got into the back. She was lovely, but the man was even more beautiful. The driver asked their names and went through his schpeel. They opted for his classical music, charged their phones, and wanted to continue their private conversation. An odd tension ran through them like a low electrical current.

She was a stunning woman with short black hair and green eyes that flashed as she spoke. She reached across the space between them and took his hand. "It's okay," she laughed; "I've known since college. Admit it. You're gay."

"I'm not," he laughed back. "Not every man wants sex with every woman."

"Uh, yes, they do. All straight men want sex with every semi-attractive woman possible."

The driver nodded his head in agreement, but they didn't notice.

"Look," she went on, "we've been best friends, on the verge of being lovers, since our freshman year. I'm not upset. I wish you would be straight about it and stop pretending I stand a chance."

"Did you just tell me to be straight about being gay? Is that even possible?" They both laughed now, and their breath exuded the faint odor of expensive liquor. "Woman, you have been my best friend since we met. I always work and don't have room for a serious girl. You are not the kinda' thang a guy just hits once in a while."

"That's the gayest excuse of all. No one works so much they don't have time for sex."

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You know I love you. But you don't want sex; you want marriage."

"And you prefer sex and marriage with men. Hey, it's not like I would be shocked. Everyone we knew in school told me you were gay. Whenever you come to visit, all my friends think you're gay. Now, I am visiting you in Miami. Who do we have dinner with? We are a gay couple, you know. So, I will make you a deal. If you admit you're gay, I will tell you my most bizarre sexual secret. Yes, it's true! I have secret sexual desires that I keep hidden even from you. It's so worth it, I promise. My sexual confessions for yours. Trade?"

"What? You tell me everything. You have no secrets from me?"

"No, I mean yes, I do, and it will make your head spin. Just admit it so I can stop fantasizing about marrying you, and, in exchange, I will tell you the dirtiest thing you have ever heard. Tell me you're gay."

The driver checked his rearview mirror. After a few minutes of silence, the man looked deeply into her eyes with genuine affection and said, "Okay, I'm gay. I don't know why I'm telling you this; no one knows. I keep it entirely secret and very separate. How did you guess?" Then he looked back at the Uber driver through the rearview mirror and said, "Don't tell my mother, okay."

"No, no. That's not my job." Then, under his breath, he mumbled, "Thank God, someone else is in charge of that."

But they weren't listening anyway. Instead, she laughed, and he lightly punched her in the shoulder. "Now, how did you know?"

"I told you. I've made a million passes at you, and you never responded. I learned this by watching 'Friends' as a kid. Of course, all male friends want sex with their female friends. But it wasn't because you weren't interested in me. You tell me stories about relationships, but I don't know any girls you ever slept with. I want you to know how much I love you. It doesn't change that at all."

"Okay, dirty girl. Now tell me your filthy secret," his handsome face laughed.

She leaned close and whispered, "I love black men."

"Oh my God! So do I," he shouted, and they burst into fresh laughter. "I would never have guessed. You always date uptight lawyers just like you."

"I know, but secretly, I love to have sex with black men while listening to Barry White."

Even the Uber driver joined in this round of laughter, and the friends seemed suddenly to realize they weren't alone. "Isn't it funny what you'll say with a stranger listening that you won't tell your parents," she poised.

They stopped before a sleek Condo building in Brickell, and the man got out. They kissed goodbye in a friendly manner and promised to talk tomorrow. Then she got back in, and the Sienna continued toward her hotel by the airport.

The driver didn't look back. He didn't need to because he could feel her mood deflate from where he sat. She was silent for a while, then leaned forward and asked, "Hey, do you mind if I give you a confession?"

"Sure, It's what I'm here for." And he smiled in a conspiratorial manner. It was amazing how much this driver reminded her of her grandpa, not his looks, but how he made her feel safe.

"I've been in love with him for sixteen years and never had the guts to ask him until tonight. As a result, I've ruined other relationships holding out for him. I'm not angry; really, I did know. But there was always a romantic undercurrent, and he encouraged it. I thought, after college, we'd get together, or after as we got our careers going. So, I came to Miami for a conference and decided to push the button. And now here I'm alone, and the guy I've waited for would rather have my brother.

"What about the black men?"

"Oh, I just made that up. No, there really was this black boyfriend, and the sex was great, Barry White and all, but he moved to California for work, and now he's married. I feel cheated. Mea culpa."

She went on, telling the driver about her life in the Midwest. Getting hired at the law firm where she practiced had been hard. She wouldn't do it differently but wished she hadn't chased a gay man around her entire adult life. It was time to have kids, and there was not one prospect on the horizon. "My God, I hope I don't end up never married." Her face had no tears, but the driver could feel them flowing inside her.

In front of her hotel, she reached to slide the door open but turned back. "Hey," she said, "thanks for listening to all my nonsense."

"It wasn't nonsense. But sometimes life is just waiting for the right moment."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, whether the man you wanted was gay or not, you haven't been ready for marriage until now anyway. It's inconvenient but not catastrophic. Maybe you secretly spent all these years loving a gay man because you needed an excuse not to get serious until you were ready. After all, you still have a lifelong friend. And I'm sure the right man is out there."

'Wow, let's hope so." She watched him drive off, thinking, "That's the best Uber driver I've ever had. He should have been a life coach."

It was late into the evening, and the night blossomed around Miami. City lights reflected off the ocean water, and a cooling breeze brought some relief from the day's heat. Families who had played all day wound down for the night. In contrast, singles got ready to go out. The driver's day was just beginning. Miami is a city that lives by night, and his rides would last until the wee hours. One after the next, he picked up people coming and going. Late in the evening, he drove past Sugar Babies. The beautiful but indecisive Auralee worked three nights a week in this strip club. He thought of  Brad at the casino and knew he wasn't losing.

Beep. The driver looked at his Uber app, and sure enough, there was a ride from Sugar Babies going all the way to Coral Gables. He smiled, turned the van around, and pulled in to wait at the front door.

The ride came out and got into the back, "Ivan," queried the driver.

"Yeah, get me out of here quick before I kill her."

He didn't bother with his usual passenger announcement. Instead, he switched the radio station to a local Hispanic one and drove.

The agitated rider was talking to himself, "Mierda, I shoulda' killed her when I had a chance. But I swear I'm gonna do it now." He wrung his hands together and moved back and forth in the seat. Then quickly looked at the driver and asked, "You understand English, man?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

From behind, Ivan glared at the man driving the van. What did he mean, "Are you okay?" Could this grey-haired gringo tell what he was thinking? Why did he have to get the one driver in Miami who spoke English?

"Sure, I'm fine. I'm just a little pissed off at my lady, that's all. But it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna take care of everything." As Ivan finished, he felt he had said too much. He suspiciously thought the Uber driver sensed the purpose behind his words. He tried to sound casual because no one should know his intentions. He wasn't afraid of the consequences; he was fully reconciled to prison. Ivan didn't want anyone trying to stop him.

The driver hummed with Habana Blues on the radio in the front seat. Ivan was drawn away for a moment to his early childhood and beaches far away.

Solo tu y yo, en la cuidad dormida

Solo tu y yo, besando sus heridas, Habana

Y tengo que dejarteir, poniendo el mar entre los dos

Ivan felt a pain rise in his throat, and he held the tears back from his eyes. The driver navigated traffic south on I-95. His rich voice softly sang a few words, evoking Ivan's youth's island and bringing waves of tranquilizing comfort. The Uber driver no longer seemed a threat but a safe harbor for Ivan's turmoil. Ivan leaned as far forward as his body would reach, "I'm going to kill her."

He decided to confide in this stranger who murmured so beautifully of Cuba. "I can't take it anymore. She has destroyed my life and ruined everything. You know, I got a wife and kids in Cuba? I came here thirty-two years ago when I was just a twenty-year-old kid. But I already had two kids of my own, and now, I got grandkids who want to come to America. They want to live here and go to school."

The driver nodded sympathetically, and Ivan said, "But she wants it all. She wants to sue me for everything I worked for, everything I owe to my wife, who raised my kids in Cuba by herself. She can't be happy with what I give her; she can't be satisfied that she is the one I love. She has to try and take it all. Do you see how I can't let that happen? I have responsibilities to other people. It would be better for me to go to prison than lose everything. So today, I signed it all over to my son in Cuba. And now I'm going to make sure she never sues."

"But what would give her the right to sue? Couldn't you just hire a lawyer?" The Uber driver sounded so genuinely concerned that, for a moment, Ivan broke down.

He sobbed into his hands. "I can't divorce my wife as La Diabla wants. My wife has been good and faithful. What has she done to deserve a divorce? Nothing. But me? I love an evil woman, one I will never be able to have. She is like the poison of heroin in my veins. My love kills me, but I keep going to her for more."

"Diabla can sue because I was a fool and did not protect myself. She got pregnant. I was even proud to have children with a woman so beautiful. I've given her everything she asked for; I only wanted her to love me. I even put up with her other men because I'm infected with love for her. Soy torpe. I bet you never heard such a story of someone so foolish. A man devotes himself to a woman who doesn't love him?"

It was dark, so Ivan didn't see the driver's mysterious smile. "Actually," he replied, "You might find it comforting to know I've had other confused men today. If you transferred your assets to your son, won't that protect you?"

"No, she can still sue. I was real stupid last year and got two DUIs. I was driving with one of the kids when I got pulled over. That's why I take Uber. I was already giving her child support, but she said she needed a court order after the DUI. In case something happened to me. I listed a bunch of assets, so I'm screwed. I even bought her a house, thinking it would make her calm down. I paid it off in full with cash. This morning, I tried to talk to her to get her to see it from my wife's point of view. But she went crazy and got her lawyer to call me. My son in Cuba knows about her, but he can't tell his mom because she thinks I'm a saint. Worse, I still want Diabla so much that my heart hurts. I love an evil woman, and there's just one cure."

"I don't think it's murder."

"No, man. Gettin' drunk. She's why I drink. But I can't even have a beer now because they make me take these tests all the time to stay outta jail."

Ivan continued, "I don't need Uber. I got a Porche and a big fat Lexus SUV, but I can't drive them now. And she wanted to take the Lexus from me, so I sold it to my business partner for one dollar. I bought her a Chevy; it's better for kids. Do you think she even said thanks? No, she said, kiss my ass! She wasn't gonna be happy without my Lexus."

"But you love her?" There was no hint of sarcasm when the driver asked this, just deep sympathy for the human condition.

Ivan's answer was to break down crying again. "I can't take it."

The freeway had ended and turned into US 1. Ivan looked up with desperation on his face. "No, she will not take everything! I'm not going home. Turn left on 17th? It's right here." He led the driver through several turns until they ended in front of an Italian-style mansion. He sat quietly in the back for a minute as if he were still trying to decide. Then, looking into his lap, he asked, "What should I do?"

From the front seat, the luxurious masculine voice said, "Well, everything has a beginning and an end. We can't decide the beginning of a thing, but we all get to decide what the end will be."

"How do we do that?"

"By what we use to fill the middle. That's what decides the end. You think you have come to an end, and maybe you have. I'm not the one in charge. But perhaps you are just in the middle, and you need to change how you fill it up."

Ivan picked up his phone and slid his finger around the screen. "Hey," he told the driver, "Even if I die tonight, this ride was worth a big tip."

The driver smiled and said, "Thanks, but be safe."

As he drove off, he watched the garage door rise and, without looking, knew there was a Lexus SUV inside. He thought about Brad and wondered if there was some swirling vortex of heartbreaking women in Sugar Babies. He trolled US 1 north until he crossed one of the causeways to Miami Beach.

Once there, he drove people back and forth from restaurants to hotels until right before midnight, when he picked up a family from Ukraine on vacation. They stayed with relatives in Key Biscayne and had been doing all the tourist things on South Beach all day. The driver offered to change the Hispanic radio station he had switched to for Ivan, but they liked it. It made their experience feel more authentic. The kids excitedly told him about walking on the beach, seeing dolphins swim, and drinking fresh green coconuts in better English than their parents. Then, he drove them across the bridges onto the peacefully sleeping island, where he dropped them off. Afterward, he stopped at a gas station. The tank filled up as he ate a few peanuts and rested. Listening to passengers pour out their troubles was draining, but it was what he did, and he did it well. He was the best. Still, it was great when the happy ones came along and helped him recharge.

He closed his eyes and exercised his mind, focusing on Brad to see how he was. The driver could see he wasn't in the casino anymore. Instead, he was home looking through the house for Auralee. Her car was there, but she was nowhere to be found. The kids were in bed, asleep alone, without a babysitter. Brad was glad he came home and finally sat down on the couch. Then he picked up a pistol from the coffee table. Why on earth was there a pistol out? The driver reached out with his mind to see if he could find the absent Auralee. But another vision invaded him. He gasped and started driving.

He was speeding a little but for a good cause. He had passed the Sea Aquarium and reached the final stretch of the bridge when the first police car went speeding past. Over the open water, police cars blocked off the lanes on both sides, and he came to a halt. The flashing lights on the other side of the road were about fifty feet away, and he adjusted his eyes to see. A black SUV crashed into the railing by the ocean side facing him. Several police officers had taken cover near their vehicles with guns drawn, pointing toward the SUV

Don't do it! Please don't do it! Could you not do it, he prayed? But that instant, Ivan burst from the driver's side door and jumped onto the railing. He stood on top defiantly and lifted a pistol into the air. A full moon reflected off the dark water below the city lights. It illuminated the potent alloy of love, hate, possession, and rejection. All the passion of a million lifetimes shone on Ivan's face. On the radio, Pedro Infante sang emotionally in Spanish.

Let the moon rise; let the sun go down

Let the night fall so that love begins

Let the stars fill me with inspiration

To say beautiful things to you, sweetheart

I know there is no love in the world like the one you give me

And I know that night after night, it grows more and more

Then, as Ivan's body lept from the bridge, it jerked with the force of bullets and fell at a twisted angle into the peaceful water below. The driver slumped with disappointment and listened to the final strains.

When I'm in your arms, I always wonder

What fate owed me, that you were my payment

So, in my life, I give everything to you

You, who gave me a kiss that I never deserved

I know that there is no love in the world like the one you give me

And I know that night after night, it grows more and more

So, Let the moon rise

An ambulance on the other side pulled someone from the SUV and drove toward Miami. Then the police cleared the bridge, and the driver headed south toward home, too emotionally exhausted to continue. He hated it when he lost one.

#

The next day, his app turned on later than usual because he had slept late. He took the Ronald Reagan north toward Fort Lauderdale, hoping for a change of pace. But as he passed Hialeah, beep. He looked down, recognized the address, and turned off to head back to the pinkish-brown house.

Brad waited outside this time. The Uber driver didn't see the kids anywhere, so he threw a suitcase in the back and then jumped into the front passenger seat.

"Oh my God! I can't believe it's you. I've never had an Uber driver twice. Of course, you'll think I'm crazy, but I prayed to God it would be you. This is insane."

The driver smiled broadly, and it had the effect of sunshine. "So, I guess you decided to visit Ohio for a while?"

"I'm outta here permanently, man. I'm going to Ohio and never coming back, at least not for a long time. You would not believe the night I had. It was crazy."

"Really? What happened?"

"First, I made a killing at the casino. And," Brad laughed before he continued, "It was because of you. I was sure you were my good luck charm. So, every time I threw those dice, I said, 'Come on, Rafael.'"

The driver laughed heartily with him and said, "That's not a bad idea. I might come back as a good luck charm on my next tour. So, you won a little?"

"No," said Brad, "I won a shitload. I couldn't lose to save my life. I won over a hundred thousand dollars. Finally, the casino manager called the police. They searched me to see if I was rigged to cheat, then made me leave. I came home to tell Auralee I wanted to take her and the kids on a badass vacation for my birthday. I was thinking someplace like Italy, but she wasn't there."

"Hmmm," nodded the driver as if he already knew.

"I found a gun in the living room and was scared outta my mind. So I sat waiting until about two in the morning. Then, I get a call from the hospital and rush over there."

"Was she hurt?"

"Not really; they had to remove duct tape from her mouth, wrists, and ankles, but other than that, she was fine. Remember she had an ex? Well, last night, he went crazy and kidnapped her. They weren't as friendly as she said. She filed to take his businesses away from him, have his partner run the whole operation, and use his drinking as an excuse. That's why they talked all the time."

"Anyway, I show up at the hospital, and the business partner, Raoul, he owns the other half of Sugar Babies, is already there. A nurse sends me to the exam room, but Raoul is in there arguing with her. Now get this: he's the real father of all three kids, DNA and all. They've been conning this poor dude Ivan, who finally gets desperate and decides to kill her. He stole a Lexus from Raoul's garage and tied her up to throw her in the ocean. Raoul calls the cops because he can't get her to answer the phone, and sure enough, Ivan has gone to Auralee's house. The cops see him leaving in the Lexus; then there is a high-speed chase and everything across Miami. In the end, they shoot him while he's trying to jump off a bridge. It's all over the news today. I can't believe you didn't see it."

"I feel sorry for Ivan. I even feel sorry for Raoul. Mostly, I feel sorry for those kids. But no one will say they feel sorry for Brad 'cause I'm outta here."

"So now that this guy Ivan is dead, When Auralee realizes I am listening to it all, she is suddenly sweet as sugar. 'Oh Brad, I love you, baby. It's not what you think.'  I just turned around, walked out, and never looked back. By the time she got home this morning, she had already talked to her lawyer. The two-million-dollar insurance policy she had on Ivan is good. Two million, did you hear that? It didn't take five seconds to find two million reasons why she no longer needed me. I didn't tell her about the casino because she would have tried to get that. Anyway, the coldest night in Ohio will be warmer than here.

They pulled into the airport and approached the American Airlines terminal. Brad looked a bit misty as he thanked the driver. "Seriously, I almost hate to say goodbye. It's like you are my guardian angel. I hope we meet again someday."

"We will."

"Before you go, I just wasn't rich enough for her, was I? Do you think I will ever meet the one?"

"Well," the driver responded, "Auralee sounds like a fast, sleek ship that needs deep water. Ships like that want to be in the ocean, racing from port to port. You strike me more as a river, not an ocean. Certain fine rivers, like the Rio Grande, can't hold ships that big, but they do an excellent job watering the valley. Maybe next time, you should look for a woman who is a warm green valley, stable and full of life. Maybe you'll find a woman who needs some water to help her grow."

 

Brad sat in the airport, waiting to board his plane. He was several hours early and napped for a while. Then he texted his mother and deleted pictures he didn't want to remember from his phone. After a time, the waiting area filled, and someone took the seat on his right side. A minute later, a soft feminine chuckle started, then she quizzed, "Just break up with your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Brad looked up to see an arresting pair of green eyes meet his.

"Well," she said, "I spent the morning deleting pictures from my phone too."

They smiled in mutual sympathy and looked at each other. "Yeah, I thought I would marry this girl two days ago. I would probably still believe that, but I met this Uber driver. Don't laugh at me, but I think he was my guardian angel."

"What?" She laughed, and it sounded like a song of joy to Brad. "Not my wise old grandpa, Uber driver? He's my guardian angel," she said in a teasing manner.

"Oh, it can't be the same guy; Miami has too many. Was he an older man with curly grey hair, the best beard ever, dressed super sharp, driving a spanking new Toyota?"

Her eyes darted wide. "I was kidding, but yes. I don't remember what kind of minivan it was, but it was white and brand new. I was so upset, and something about him made me feel, well…."

"Safe and protected," finished Brad.

"Yes. Are you on this flight to Columbus?"

"I am. I'm moving there to help out my parents. I do IT for the government, so I'm remote. What about you?"

"I'm a lawyer at a firm in Columbus. It is bizarre that we had the same Uber driver and just broke up with someone. But he's my guardian angel because I had him twice. So what are the chances of that?"

Brad sat up straight and stared at her in disbelief. "No, you're kidding? I had him twice. Yesterday, when I was undecided. And he brought me to the airport this morning."

"This is spooky. The same thing happened to me. Except I wasn't undecided. I was very decided. But, he gave me the greatest advice just now."

Brad smiled as he began memorizing her beautiful face. "What did he tell you?"

"That my boyfriend was a deep, fast river, only looking for influential ships for his waters. But I needed a slow-moving river willing to take its time and water the whole valley."

With a twinkle in his eye, Brad chuckled and asked, "I don't suppose you would like to get dinner tomorrow evening?"