The Stone

by Pil Lee

I always drive in cities. On endless stretches of country road I start to nod off quickly so my husband and I have a long-standing agreement. I’ll nap the warm sunset away as he cruises through fields in strange lands, but when we get to the outskirts of a town or city I?ll take the wheel. Then it’s his turn to sleep. So he’s seen a lot of the countryside of this world, but I’ve seen a lot of the night. Brightly lit billboards in foreign languages I don’t understand, above bustling noisy people on vast boulevardes and dark, too-narrow streets with no signposts, no room to turn and no one in sight.

Occasionally I’ll wake him up to help me with directions, or just to see his smile, but it’s a small point of pride that I can usually find our hotel while he snores beside me.

It was a hot night, I remember, when I found the stone.

I’d passed the front of the hotel two turns ago, so I knew the entrance to their carpark must be halfway down the back street. I could already feel the spa massage jets on my shoulders and I had slowed down to a crawl to find the entrance. So when I hit something on the road it was no more than a little jolt, and my husband didn’t even move. I wasn’t too happy about getting out of the car to have a look, but I was armed of course and I figured the hotel staff must be within earshot so I locked the car behind me and bent down under the front hood.

It was clearly a piece of stone, the width of the car and about as round as my body. It was fluted down its length and I realised it was part of a column, broken off and lying on its side. It was dark in the street but the stone must have been alabaster, I thought, it was gleaming so brightly in the wash from my headlights.

There was obviously no way we could lift it by ourselves so I kept walking trying to find the parking entrance. The road became darker and darker until I was virtually blind. I looked up at the sky and wished for the faint twinkle of stars, not for the first time, then I turned back towards the car. Time to wake my husband and phone the hotel.

I retraced my steps, but as I got closer to the glow I worried that our headlights were failing. Then I found myself standing by the stone, gleaming faintly by itself, and the car was nowhere to be seen.

I panicked for a moment then forced myself to think straight. Of course my husband had woken up, couldn’t find me or see anything ahead and had reversed out and gone for help. I repeated our mantra to myself, “When you realise you are lost, stay where you are. And I will find you.” I’d always imagined myself having to find him, but it was turning out to be the other way around. I sighed and sat down with my back resting against the column. “So this is what you’re for,” I said, giving it a pat.

I woke, sore and thirsty, with the column still holding me upright. The sun beat down and I was blinded for a moment. I staggered up and shaded my eyes, as the back alley slowly resolved itself. I spun around in the empty road, and I could see that the entrance to the hotel parking was further than I’d thought it would be, another thirty yards down the lane, but now in clear view.