My name is Sheila, I am 56 years old, and as a driver in a ride-sharing app I have already heard many nasty comments. But that evening two arrogant passengers crossed all boundaries. I stayed silent… until the moment a police officer stopped us and turned that ride into something they completely did not expect.
Have you ever had a night that starts badly and with every minute gets worse and worse, until suddenly something happens and the world tilts at least a little in your favor? That is exactly what happened to me that night.
Since my husband’s hardware store was closed during the pandemic, I started driving for a ride-sharing app. We lost the business, half our savings, and almost the house… twice. But I still had a car and a driver’s license. So I thought: why not?
It is not a dream job. And it is not easy. But it is honest. Most often I get polite people — tired workers, students returning from parties, once even a dentist who tipped me in gift cards to a coffee shop. But last Friday?
LAST FRIDAY THE UNIVERSE SENT ME TWO PUFFED-UP CREATURES WHO LOOKED AS IF THEY HAD STEPPED STRAIGHT OUT OF A FASHION MAGAZINE.
Last Friday the universe sent me two puffed-up creatures who looked as if they had stepped straight out of a fashion magazine.
It was a little after 9:00 p.m., I was standing downtown when they got into the back seat. The guy had slicked-back hair, a raised chin, and a perfectly fitted blazer that probably reflected his ego. His girlfriend was tall, stunning, and smelled of perfume I couldn’t have afforded even in our best years.
They didn’t greet me. No “good evening,” no “is this our ride?” They just got in, as if they were doing me a favor.
The guy barely looked at me and snorted loudly enough for passersby to hear.
? SERIOUSLY? THIS IS THE “PREMIUM” CAR?
— Seriously? This is the “premium” car?
I kept a polite smile.
— Please fasten your seatbelts.
And then that smirk appeared. Slow, sticky, patronizing. As if he had just discovered that I was inferior to him and couldn’t wait to make me realize it.
They started laughing. Not kindly. The girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and he giggled as if she were the funniest person in the world.
— I bet she drives slowly so she doesn’t spill her prune juice — he said.
I CLENCHED MY JAW. I’VE HEARD WORSE THINGS.
I clenched my jaw. I’ve heard worse things. But what hurt was the fact that they were just getting started.
— Oh my God — the girl added. — She has a crocheted seat cover! My grandma had one too. No offense.
Of course. You always add “no offense” after an insult, as if that cancels it out. It’s not a get-out-of-jail card. It’s just cowardice in pretty packaging.
“Breathe, Sheila. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. Drop them off and forget it” — I kept repeating to myself in my thoughts.
THEN THE GUY LEANED FORWARD, AS IF I WERE A TAXI DRIVER FROM THE 1950S.— MAYBE YOU COULD AVOID THE HIGHWAY?
Then the guy leaned forward, as if I were a taxi driver from the 1950s.
— Maybe you could avoid the highway? My girlfriend gets motion sickness.
I wanted to reply that I just hoped she wouldn’t throw up in my car, but I held back.
— Of course, sir.
He sighed theatrically.
— People will do anything for five stars.
I looked at him in the rearview mirror. He was smiling mockingly. I don’t know what came over me, but I didn’t look away.
Then my irritation turned into something sharper. They wanted me to feel small. As if I should be lucky to drive them at all.
? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? — HE SNAPPED.
— What are you looking at? — he snapped. — I don’t feel sorry for you. People like you chose this kind of life themselves.
“People like me” — I repeated quietly.
He didn’t even blink.
We were maybe four blocks from the destination when I saw red and blue lights in the mirror.
GREAT. A TICKET TO END THIS NIGHTMARE OF A NIGHT.
Great. A ticket to end this nightmare of a night.
The girl sighed irritably. The guy muttered something under his breath.
I pulled over. My heart was pounding like a hammer. The patrol car stopped behind us.
— And now what? — he snorted. — Does she even know how to drive?
The officer got out. He had a light blue mask on his face.
— I’m just getting over a mild flu — he explained calmly. — Good evening. Is everything all right, ma’am?
HIS VOICE SOUNDED FAMILIAR TO ME.
His voice sounded familiar to me. Before I could answer, the passenger beat me to it.
— Yes, officer, everything’s fine. We’re heading to a club. Maybe just tell this grandma that the speed limit isn’t a suggestion.
He laughed at his own joke. The girl squealed with laughter.
The officer didn’t flinch.
— Are you driving, ma’am?
— Yes, sir. I’m working. I’m taking them to Broadway.
THE GUY ROLLED HIS EYES.— MAYBE SHE’LL START HANDING OUT TISSUES WHEN SHE RETIRES.
The guy rolled his eyes.
— Maybe she’ll start handing out tissues when she retires.
That hurt.
The officer clenched his jaw.
— May I ask a few questions?
— Like what? — the girl asked.
— Have you been drinking alcohol?
? COUPLES DRINK — THE GUY SHRUGGED.
— Couples drink — the guy shrugged. — So what?
— I suggest you change your tone — the officer replied coldly. — Because what you’re doing is starting to look like harassment.
The guy froze.
— Seriously?
— Especially since you’re mocking someone’s mother.
Those words struck like thunder. I slowly turned around. The officer removed his mask.
? MOM? — HE SAID QUIETLY.
— Mom? — he said quietly.
It was my son, Eli.
I didn’t even know he had patrol in this area tonight. He had asked me so many times to stop driving at night. He said he and his wife could help financially. But I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.
Now he was looking at me with the same expression he used to have after losing a baseball game. Except now his face was firm, as befits a police officer.
He turned to them.
— You’d better stay quiet for the rest of the ride. If I hear one more word, you’ll get out right here and the night won’t be pleasant for you.
They fell silent.
— Call me when you drop them off. I’ll be nearby — he whispered to me.
The rest of the ride passed in a silence deeper than in church. No jokes. No whispers.
When we reached the club, they almost ran out of the car. They left a tip as if buying themselves peace with it.
IT WASN’T ABOUT THE MONEY.
It wasn’t about the money. It never was.
I sat for a moment in silence, breathing deeply. Then I called Eli.
— Thank you, son — I said.
— You know I can’t detain someone just because they’re rude — he replied.
— I know. But maybe next time they’ll think twice.
I LOOKED AT THE BACK SEAT, AT MY OLD CROCHETED SEAT COVER THAT REMEMBERED THE TIMES WHEN WE BELIEVED WE HAD EVERYTHING UNDER CONT
I looked at the back seat, at my old crocheted seat cover that remembered the times when we believed we had everything under control.
— Everything okay? — he asked.
— Yes — I answered. — For the first time in a long while, really okay.
Because I was no longer someone’s joke. I was someone’s mother. And that meant more than I thought.
When I returned home, my husband was sitting on the couch, watching an old western.
— Tough day, honey?
I SAT DOWN NEXT TO HIM AND TOOK OFF MY SHOES.— YOU COULD SAY THAT, PAUL.
I sat down next to him and took off my shoes.
— You could say that, Paul.
— Everything all right?
I rested my head on his shoulder.
— You know what? I think so.
And we sat there for a while in a silence that was full, not empty.
Maybe I won’t drive like this all my life. Maybe one day I’ll trade night rides for baking banana bread and doing puzzles with Paul. Maybe I’ll let my knees rest.
BUT A WEEK LATER, SITTING IN THE SAME OLD COROLLA IN WHICH I CRIED AFTER OUR STORE WENT BANKRUPT, I DIDN’T FEEL SMALL.
But a week later, sitting in the same old Corolla in which I cried after our store went bankrupt, I didn’t feel small.
I felt seen.
And sometimes that is enough.
