What I Wanted to Write

Anyone who knows me knows that holding in my temper is just about as easy for me as it is for most people to hold in a sneeze. But today I managed to do it... for awhile. I was working on a delicate operation with the mom of the grown woman who rear ended my car while my family and I were stopped in traffic. She was trying to take care of the damages out of pocket, so her daughter's insurance rates wouldn't rise. The repair costs were $600, but she offered me $400. I decided to do unto others and all that jazz, so I gave her one last offer (via email) to pay me the full $600 before I turned it in to insurance. She accepted. But for the last couple days, these angry, sarcastic words have been welled up in my throat. They must get out. So I'll jot them down here in the form of the letter I wished I could write. 

Dear Julie,

Last week, when I saw your daughter in my rear view mirror at the wheel of the brand new car you bought her, texting like mad and not paying any attention to the stopped line of traffic in front of her, I was thrilled out of my mind. You can only imagine how disappointed I have been since January, when I purchased my first new car in 11 years, that my plan hadn't yet worked. The plan seemed simple enough: stop at all red lights and wait for a scantily clad 20-something girl to rear end me. And then (this is the really devious part of my plan), I collect the $600 for repairs and run away with the money to a tropical island where I will live in luxury for the rest of my days. Finally, last Tuesday, it seemed as if those tropical island dreams were about to come true. 

Following the impact, everything continued to go according to plan. When Amanda stepped out in her cheek-bearing shorts and announced that she was in a rush to get to Victoria's Secret before her social event, I thought I'd be extra devious and not call the cops. She thought she was just getting out of a ticket. I knew better. I didn't want any coppers getting in my way of that cold, hard cash. 

When she requested that we handle the situation out of pocket so that her insurance rates wouldn't rise, I was thrilled. The quicker I got my check, the better. The plan was working perfectly. But there was one complication I couldn't foresee. That complication was you, Julie - truly my match in the art of mastermindery. You see, I had thought that any woman in  her mid-twenties and who was obviously old enough to purchase her unmentionables at Victoria's Secret, had also reached the age of financial independence from her mom. That's where I was wrong. Dead wrong.  

When you called me and questioned the estimates that cost my husband precious vacation time to obtain, I was literally shaking in my boots. Of course, the car repair guys were in on it too. Who wouldn't be for such a spectacular sum as $600? Still, I held firm. I wanted the full amount or nothing. When you requested that we call and "touch bases", I acted like there was nothing to touch bases about, but in reality, I was just afraid that my kids would blurt out something about moving to paradise while I was on the phone with you. 

Today, when I got your offer to pay me $400, I admit that I was almost beat. After all, it would have been way too hard to pick up the phone and call your insurance, who would have given me the full amount plus money for a rental car, no questions asked. You seemed to instinctively know about my fear of telephones, you clever dame. 

So, as a last-ditch effort, I'm begging you to give me $600. If you decide not to, I think maybe I'll have my mom call your insurance. Bet you didn't see that coming. 

Check. Mate.

-Rachael

So, the check is in the mail, which it wouldn't have been if the email would have read like that. In the meantime, I have decided that no, I can't have anything nice. My ride won't be fixed for another month. Until then, every time I load groceries into the back, the wound feels fresh again.