Fender Bender

When I heard the noise, M at the wheel, it sounded really bad. And I was confused, because I couldn't think of anything in his driveway that would be presenting such an obstacle to us backing up. Had there been a big branch that I hadn't seen? A neighbor's bike? I could recall no such item when I had pulled in a few minutes earlier, and that's when I realized what had happened. I suppose it's inevitable that if you always park at the bottom of your boyfriend's driveway, he will eventually forget it's there and back into it one night while you are on your way to meet some friends for dinner. And he will feel positively awful about it. Such was the case with M, who had never been in so much as a fender bender before and could not believe he had been distracted enough to have done it. I was far less concerned, but that could be because I've got a ditched car to my name, so my frame of reference is a little different. In fact, I could almost shrug it off completely after looking at the damage, because it sounded much worse than it actually was. After wiping off the scuff, there's really no evidence of the impact at all. Still, sort of a weird area for a relationship. "So, do I just give them your insurance info?" felt like a horrible thing to ask, even though I still asked it. I sense this being in a book someday.

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