“Why, oh why, did I allow Fred to take the car?” Megan muttered, reprimanding herself.
She carefully stepped over a puddle of water as she walked toward the waiting shed to flag a taxi. It was past midnight and the heavy rain hasn’t stopped since early this evening. The wet streets of Bonifacio Global City in Taguig were half asleep with just a handful of people and vehicles going to and fro.
Normally, being a pluviophile, she would have relished the battering rain. But not presently, when she was all dressed up in a silver sequined Vera Wang gown and Jimmy Choo stilettos, coming from a charity event hosted by her friend, Melanie Stockton. She hugged her Alexander McQueen beige overcoat to her body with one hand as the other steadied the useless tiny umbrella, borrowed from the hotel concierge, over her head. Her french bun was still in place, although wisps of hair managed to escape from both sides of her head. Her feet were wet now, and if not for the thick overcoat, she would have been drenched.
Her thoughts went back to Fred, her driver. Instantly, she was ashamed for her moment of regret in letting him have the car. She knew her driver needed the car more than her when she saw how worried he was, getting a call for help earlier from his cancer-stricken wife in Cavite.
Her heart went out to him and his family who had been struggling with the sickness for almost a year now. Fred didn’t want to leave her in the middle of the night at the charity event. But it was she who insisted that he take her car so he can be with his wife as soon as possible, assuring him that she will get home safely by riding with her friend. Besides, even if Fred did not take the car, it’s not that she’d drive the car.
Oh, she knew how to drive. But after the accident,she just hadn’t found the nerve to do so.