By Sterling Wright

STERLING WRIGHT

It was a stormy day. The rain poured harder by the minute, and the people from on the streets disappeared even faster. It was two days until Sterling’s birthday, and Anne, Sterling’s wife wanted to bake him a grand cake.
Oh how that cake would look! It would be a small cake, so all of it would be eaten among the family, nothing left behind. It would be chocolate, Sterling’s favorite, with an edible, chocolate piano, she would make to put on top of it. It would have taffy keys, and a chocolate bench made from tootsie rolls, and a Hershey bar. Anne thought that the part Sterling would like most about the cake would be how she would shrink down a piece of his favorite music (Eleanor Rigby), and put it on the piano’s stand.
No, that wasn’t right. That wouldn’t be Sterling’s favorite part about the cake. It would be that it came from the heart and that he could share a marvelous-never-to-forget birthday with his favorite people in the whole world.
That made Anne smile. She knew that today was a day when the sky grew dark during the day, and the rain poured like an ocean falling from the sky, but when she looked up, thinking of Sterling, and Bobby, her wonderful son, she just felt like there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
But she was wrong. For the day took an unfortunate turn of events in those next few seconds. She was making a left, and didn’t see the beast. It had come out of nowhere. The semi-truck plowed down the street, leaving any little car, like Anne’s, annihilated. It had all happened so fast, Anne couldn’t even get out a scream, before she took her last breath.
***
Sterling Wright is a man, who values life. He goes where the wind takes him, and doesn’t stop until he must.
  His son is seven years old. His name is Bobby Wright, named after Sterling’s Grandfather, who told him everything he has to know about the way things work. He spends his days with him, and knows that he will always be his son, even when he grows up and becomes something great.
Sterling is a musician. He loves to play to his son: piano, guitar, violin, and so on. Although Bobby’s favorite instrument of all time is the xylophone. This was declared one summer, when Bobby was five. It was a sunny August day, and he and Bobby were sitting outside eating popsicles. Bobby was a little scared of what was to come. It was first grade at a brand new school, and there were a lot more hours of the day than Kindergarten.
Sterling immediately detected this, and asked him if he wanted him to play an instrument.  Bobby cheered up as soon as he mentioned it.
They walked inside the house. Sterling looked down on his son.
“Which one?” he asked.
Bobby looked up at him with confused eyes. “I don’t know what it’s called, but it looks like this,” Bobby made a gesture.
“Piano?” Sterling asked.
Bobby shook his head. He did a drum motion, and a piano motion.
“Xylophone!” he boomed in triumph.
“Yeah!”
He played all night, while Bobby danced around. And when he neared slumber, he sat on the couch, closed his eyes, and just listened. Sterling played Eleanor Rigby, and Bobby kept on listening.
Sterling remembered those times, knowing that not too much time had passed. Bobby is in second grade. He has great friends, great teachers, and a safe environment. So why was Sterling still fretting?
He was outside on the back patio, enjoying what might have been the last warm day of October.
He looks at the picture of his son he keeps outside on the table, his kindergarten picture. It showed him wearing a black shirt with a picture of a car on it. START YOUR ENGINES!  It said on it.
Next to it was a vase. It wasn’t very complicated, just an orange vase, with a slight rust. It was chipped on the top, making it look a lot older than it actually was. It never had much value to him, but he knew there was someone who cared for it like it was made of gold. 
  Sterling didn’t have a lot of money. He had enough to keep himself and Bobby in a warm house, but a small one at that. He had to be very careful with some of the choices he made, and he reminded himself that every time he bought something.
He made his money off of all the instruments he played. If news came around that someone was needed to play the trumpet in a band in two days, Sterling was there. If someone was needed to play bass in a jazz group, he’d become a jazz cat.
A nice breeze came by. The trees swayed, and a rabbit jumped across the yard. He breathed deeply, in unison with the wind.
Sterling moved to the front of the yard. He and Bobby always use to count the cars that went by on the street, as an exercise for Kindergarten. But really, Sterling enjoyed it as much as Bobby.
So Sterling counted. He sat out there counting cars, for what seemed like an eternity.
Suddenly, a piece of paper rolled away in the wind. Sterling hadn’t noticed it coming down the street, it just seemed to appear.
The breeze picked up again. The paper blew faster.
Sterling didn’t think. He bolted in a mad dash at the paper. The paper sped away, weightless. It had danced up into the air over Sterling’s head.
The wind faded, and the paper dropped. Unfortunately Sterling didn’t catch it, for the way it was floating, was completely haphazard. It landed in a mud puddle.
Sterling scowled disappointed of this added obstacle. He bent down to grab, it and only then did he realize what it was.
A letter.
It had crisp, white corners, and before it had landed in the puddle, was very clean looking. It was sealed by a fancy red waxed seal that looked like the Queen of England had sealed it herself. The handwriting on the back was in messy cursive, and yet seemed more than readable. There was no stamp.
Although, the oddest thing about this letter was to whom it was addressed.
Sterling.
He stared at the letter in disbelief. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He started to open the letter, there and then, but then thought better of it, noticing his surroundings.
Sterling quickly rushed inside, as if nothing else mattered in the world except finding out what this letter contains.
He sat on the couch. It was a white couch his wife had bought when they first moved in. It brought back memories of her.
He took a deep breath. Everything in his life seemed to revolve around this one moment.
He opened it.
The paper was a single sheet. It seemed that it should be in a much more tattered condition than what it looked like right now, the paper clean, and crisp. The writing was a perfect match of what it looked on the outside of the letter, messy cursive. He began to read.
Dear Sterling,
This is not my will. It contains the same components of a will, but is different. A will is a video or written letter to a person in someone’s life. It is also from someone who has passed away, in a better place.
It is not a will because I am not leaving you anything but my memories, which you will hold onto until you will be with me once more.
By now I’m guessing you know who I am. I am your past but I know that you still always think about me, as you had five years ago.
Anne Wright.
At this point Sterling had to stop reading. He shook his head for the longest time, not believing what he was reading.
He put his head down, and cried. He cried for the vase, for Bobby, and for Anne.
He put the letter on the table. He stopped mourning, and dried his tears. He was going to read the rest of it, but not right now.
He walked over to the window, staring out as if looking off the edge of the world. In a way, he was. He saw the car, parked by the sycamore tree as it always was, the tires old and rusted. It wasn’t actually there but, whenever he looked out his window the memory seemed to come to life. It was a small car, and the engine always took a couple goes at before starting. To some it seemed like a regular car, and really it was. But to Sterling, it seemed like a death sentence, carrying its victims to their fate.
Carrying his Anne to her fate.
He dried his tears. He sat himself back onto the couch, and read the rest of it, not even thinking.
I ask a single favor of you. I want you to go to the place I’ve always wanted to go. I want you to stay as long as you want, time doesn’t matter. Think about everything good in life, nothing else. I want Bobby to be there, too. 
***
One week later, Sterling told Bobby about the letter and the little trip they were going on. He told him that he would miss a couple days of school, but nothing to drastic.
“We’re going to Alaska!” Bobby cheered, dancing around. When he stopped, he looked at Sterling, confused. “Where’s that?”
Sterling laughed picking Bobby up, and showed him a globe. “It’s not so far away,” he said, using his finger to show Sterling.
“It may not seem so, but really it’s hundreds of miles away,” Sterling said, and he left
Bobby with the globe. He needed to start packing. 
***
The next day, Sterling and Bobby were ready. They got into the car and drove. Bobby had a DVD player that was playing, Bedtime Stories. He soon fell asleep.
Sterling, though, was more focused than he had ever been. He kept repeating his wife’s wishes. Go to the place I’ve always wanted to go. I want you to stay as long as you want, time doesn’t matter. Think about everything good in life, nothing else. I want Bobby to be there, too.
He looked out his side window. The trees seemed to be speeding by, as if in a hurry for something. He didn’t know where they seemed to be going, but he felt it was important.
At that moment, he saw himself in the trees. He saw himself in the sky. He saw himself in the never ending road. And Sterling Wright realized that he didn’t know what was going to become of all this. He may seem calm, and free, but lately he had been thinking of himself as what he saw in front of him. Always moving, like the trees that run. Always still. Like the sky that sits. And never ending, like the endless road that lay ahead.
He pulled over. He stopped the car. He ran.
***
He didn’t know how long he was running. He just knew he would never make it. Never make it out of the never ending road that haunted him, now. Never get the back the life he used to have.
He sat down, under a tree. He caught his breath. Then he got out the letter, and ripped it.
He ripped it into a thousand pieces. When he couldn’t rip it anymore, he stomped on it, like a child, jumping on a stick. The trees seemed to loom over him, telling him that he is now free.
He felt better. He felt some invisible lifted weight was lifted from him. He told himself that he could start his life over, clean slate, and never look back.
He started to walk off into the vast woods. Where would he start? He asked himself. He thought back to his musical career. He could play piano, in a jazz group, playing like a cool cat. They would probably also want him to play a bit of xylophone… Bobby!
He ran faster than he ever had. How could he leave his life behind? Bobby was his only flesh and blood he had left. He loved Bobby more than anything else in the world. And he was just going to leave him behind in a car all alone, and confused?
He ran even faster.
Several times, he was just inches off from ramming into trees at full speed. He hardly even noticed.
Finally, he got to the edge of the road. The car was still there, Bobby, safe and sound. Sterling exhaled. Everything was going to be alright.
  And yet, it didn’t seem like it would be. Sterling had forgotten about Bobby, and was going to start a new life. How could it be alright, if he was so willing to do the unthinkable?
He slowly walked toward the car, surrounded by his own thoughts, which seemed to bombard him more and more. He loved Bobby, and would never do anything like that ever again. 
A car drove toward them. Sterling looked at it, for a second, noticing that it was picking up speed, at a fast pace.
The car drove out of the lane it had been in, its blinkers staying still. It only took Sterling one more second to realize what was going to happen.
In a flash, Sterling dove into his car. Bobby lay there, in a deep sleep. He yanked him as hard as he could, caused him to awaken from his slumber. Bobby was too shocked to comprehend what was going on at the moment. His eyes were as big as dinner plates.
Sterling tried to open the backseat door. Shoot. Sterling thought. It was locked.
He looked back. The car was moments away. Bobby started yelling, in fright. Sterling had one last attempt.
The door he had come into was still open. He quickly rushed himself over to the door, holding Bobby like a football. 
He threw Bobby out of the car, praying that he would be alright. He looked back for the last time, bracing himself.
He saw his life flash before his eyes: his Mother, nurturing him as a small child, his high school graduation, meeting Anne for the first time... At least he would be reunited with her once more.
He sat down. As he did, he hit the wheel.
The horn blared.
About twenty feet away the driver awoke. He saw the car up head. The horn made him think of an alarm, going off in his head. TURN! TURN! TURN!
Ten feet away, he jerked himself to the left, hoping that his hands would reach the wheel.
It did.
The on-coming car sped off past Sterling. He stared at it, dazed. He blinked twice, and then started laughing and crying, harder than he ever had. He looked up at the ceiling of the car, but it was beyond at which he looked.
Thank you, he said. And for a second he could see Anne smiling down at him.
Everything was going to be alright.