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Everything Happens for a Reason

Martina Comorkova

    Bill believed everything happened for a reason. He was currently mulling over this very thought when he saw the tip of a waving thumb on the side of the road. The thumb was attached to a young man, no older than twenty. Bill believed in fate more than anyone, and figured this was a fated meeting. He slowed his car down, and pulled over to the side of the mostly empty road. Hopefully the whippersnapper wouldn’t mind the loose sunflower seed shells, and stains of his well-loved truck.
    “Where are you heading off too?” Bill asked the boy who had stains of his own all over his clothes. It was clear he was out on the road for a while with all the dust he dragged in.
    “Anywhere,” the boy replied. “I just want to be far away from here.” The boy crossed his arms and zoned out as if to withdraw within himself.
    Bill paid the boy no mind as he tried to hide away, and instead prodded the boy to talk, “I believe everything happens for a reason, and I believe our meeting happened for a reason.” A car whizzed by them as he said that, going well past the speed limit. Plenty of dust got kicked up, but thankfully the doors were closed by now.
    “Maybe that car would have hit you had you not been in my truck,” Bill said. The boy scoffed, and pulled the hood of his russet stained jacket over his head. Bill started up the truck and began driving. He was heading to his sister’s. She wasn’t doing very well, and he wanted to see her in case anything happened to her. She was quite a bit of a drive to get to, so the two were going to spend quite a bit of time together.
    “Do you like music?” Bill asked the boy before turning the muffled radio up to a recognizable volume of pop music. It might have seemed uncharacteristic for a man like Bill to be listening to pop, but that’s what the radio was set to. The boy didn’t respond.
    Blue and red lights flashed ahead. There was a terrible crash. All four cars involved were totaled. Bill figured that if he wasn’t in the car with the boy, he might have gotten caught up in that mess. “Boy, I believe our meeting was fated. You saved my life.”
    The boy pulled out from his hood, and looked at the mess outside and realized it was very well likely that Bill could have gotten into the harrowing crash that was now holding them up. “My name’s Dan,” he said simply.
    “Dan, I’m Bill.” He extended a work worn hand to Dan and offered it to him to shake. “Let’s get you something to eat and you can tell me your story.”
    “Sure,” Dan said sheepishly. Bill turned around. It would be a while before they cleared the road up. Everything happens for a reason, Bill thought to himself.

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