Confessions Worth Noting: Story #2

The Dream of a Fox

by Cassie Smartt

"Sir?... Sir? We're at your house."

The cab driver snaps me back into reality. I loosen my grip on the seat and feel the sting in my joints as I relieve the pressure. My hands must have been gripped tight for the entire twenty minute ride from the airport.

"Sir, this is the address you told me. Have I gotten it wrong?" he asks, confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry. No, this is the right place," I confirm as I look at the house where I have spent twenty years of my life.

"This is a nice place you have," the man states as he observes the grandeur of the historic house.

"It's not my house. It belongs to my parents," I blurted out matter-of-factly. Looking at his face in the rearview mirror, I can tell he registered the hint of hostility in my voice.

I come from family money. Generations of us Fox's have lived in comfort and splendor. With this livelihood, though, comes specific obligations. For the males in the Fox family, it's always the same expectations: Ivy league college, business degree, and become part of the family business. I am next in line to take over.

"Sir, would you like me to help you with your bags?"

"Could you actually drive around the block again?" I am not ready to face my parents with the truth.

We pass several of the other houses in the neighborhood. This is what I'm giving up... nice things, easy living, not having to worry about simple things. I chose to give it up, though. I know what I'm getting myself into. I just hope my parents try to understand.

"So, are you visiting home from college?" I can see the curiosity in the driver's eyes staring at me in the mirror. Maybe if I straighten out my thoughts here, explaining it to my parents will be a bit easier.

"Actually, I won't be going back to school."

"Oh, you already graduated? Congratulations!"

"No, I was only halfway into my third year," my voice cracked with worry.

We arrived at a stop sign and for a moment, the world was eerily silent. The engine's hum from the acceleration provided the only sound until we turned once again down my street. I suppose he felt sorry for asking, but it wasn't what he said that got to me.

We are coming up to my parents' house when my heart begins to race. I need to think about something else...

"So, how did you become a cab driver?" I ask, trying to calm my nerves.

"Well, believe it or not, driving a cab was never my dream," he says with a bit of sarcasm. "Right out of high school, I moved to New York City to be a jazz musician. I played at clubs and on the streets. I even opened up once for Miles Davis, you know, before he got famous. I only took driving a cab as a part time job. Eventually, I had to stop playing so I could provide for my family."

Another I-failed-at-my-dream story. Great. I need to stop asking people about their lives, it does nothing to help my confidence about the choices I am making.

Once again, the car is stopped in front of my house. I can feel the driver's eyes studying my hesitation to get out of the car, but I don't look at him. I fixate my attention of the small cross I hold in my hands. It once belonged to my grandmother, who always urged me to go after what I want. I say a quick prayer for strength, encouragement, and clarity for when I finally tell my parents my life changing news.

Well, I guess it's now or never. I open the door and plant one foot onto the familiar driveway. With a deep breath, I am finally able to get out of the car.

The driver has already gotten my bags out and has placed them on the ground. As I reach for the bags, the driver turns to me.

"You know, kid, I have never once regretted my decisions to follow my dreams to New York City. It was something I had to do for myself. I had to see if I could do it; otherwise, I'd be sitting at home right now wondering 'what if?'."

And there it was. I suddenly felt braver than I ever have before. It was the extra push I needed from above; a confirmation that I was following His will.

I paid the driver more than enough for the ride. He was a bigger help than he will ever know.

Overcome with a peace beyond all understanding, I open the big, red door for the millionth time and prepare myself for the most consequential conversation I will ever have...