Pass Me By
a short story by Laura Pfalz

Jerry Collins, a 40 year-old actor, was driving home one stormy night. On the side of the road, straight ahead, was a woman. She looked about his age, and he decided the kind thing to do would be to pick her up.

He slowed his car to a stop, and the woman got in the passenger's seat. She looked at Jerry strangely, but he just smiled. He was a bit perplexed by her attire. She was wearing a flannel night gown and a terricloth robe. On her feet were a pair of fuzzy blue slippers.

"Where are you heading?" Jerry asked.

The woman sighed. "112 Devil Lane."

"That's not far from where I live," Jerry commented.

He started to drive and noticed that the woman seemed nervous. She shifted in her seat a lot and was clutching the dashboard.

"Are you okay?" Jerry asked, concerned.

The woman looked out her window and started breathing loudly. She seemed frightened...almost as if something was watching her.

"Listen," she whispered. "Please do me a favor-"

"You're going to have to speak up," Jerry interrupted. "My hearing isn't what it used to be."

They saw headlights in the distance.

The woman looked at Jerry frantically. "Please come to my house tomorrow! It's important!"

Suddenly, the headlights were right in front of them, and a loud crash broke the silence on the deserted road. The collision caused all of the passengers in both vehicles to be knocked unconscious.

When Jerry awoke, he was in his bedroom lying next to his wife.

"What a dream," Jerry said, shaking his head groggily.

He got out of bed and looked out the window. It was morning, and Jerry smiled as he remembered that he didn't have to go to work today. After getting dressed, he went downstairs to get a cup of coffee. He turned on the TV. There was a lottery drawing on, and a beautiful woman in a blue sparkling dress was picking three numbers.

Jerry wasn't paying much attention to it until the announcer said, "The winning numbers are one, one, and two!"

Jerry raised his eyebrows, and then chuckled. "Man, where was that dream a few nights ago?"

He turned off the TV and finished his coffee. He carried the empty cup to the kitchen sink, but couldn't get the address in his dream out of his head. The dream was so vivid, so real. Jerry began thinking about the woman and how he could picture her better than his own wife. In fact, he couldn't remember what his wife looked like at all. A sense of panic consumed him, and he ran upstairs to his bedroom. The bed was neatly made, with no one sleeping in it.

Jerry ran to every part of the house, looking for his wife. He couldn't remember her name, to call out for her. He didn't understand what was happening. Even his home was looking less and less familiar, though he had lived there for twenty years. He ran his fingers through his hair and stopped beside the front door. He closed his eyes to try and think things through.

"Pictures," Jerry whispered. "We've been married nearly twenty years, so there must be pictures of us somewhere in this house."

Jerry opened his eyes and went into the living room. There was a picture frame on the fireplace mantle, but it was empty. Jerry furrowed his brow and then left the living room for a final time. He grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter and left his home. He drove to Devil Lane, just three blocks away from where he lived. He stopped in front of the house numbered 112. The house was run-down and looked abandoned, but Jerry went up and knocked on the door anyway.

After a moment, the woman from Jerry's dream answered the door. She had tears in her eyes the moment she saw him. "You came."

"Have we met before?" Jeremy asked, confused. "Because I dreamt-"

"I'm a hitchhiker and you pick me up. Then a truck comes and kills us," the woman said.

Jerry could barely speak. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jamie Simon. It's not a dream. When we were sixteen, you picked me up, and the truck killed us. Don't you remember?" she asked, sadly.

"What?" Jerry asked in disbelief. "You're crazy! I'm 40 years-old, and it's just a recurring dream every year-"

"And we age. We're spirits, Jerry. We're stuck. We're stuck because of you. You're in denial. You never accepted the fact that you died-"

"That's ridiculous! I have a wife-"

"What's her name, Jerry?" the woman asked, trying to convince him. "What color are her eyes?"

Jerry shook his head. "I'm a successful actor, and I know I have a wife. I live in a beautiful house. I was watching TV this morning and drinking coffee!"

"Those are illusions. You weren't ready to die so you didn't, at least, not in your mind," the woman explained. "And since you didn't go, I couldn't either. We have to live that nightmare on every anniversary of that horrible night. I could only hope you would come to me outside of the nightmare. I couldn't tell you in the car because it would mess up fate. And I couldn't come to you outside of the nightmare, because you had to realize for yourself. I felt so terrible, because if you hadn't stopped to give me a ride, you would 've been passed the truck before it lost control. I'm sorry, Jerry."

Jerry saw a flash in front of his eyes, and he saw his dead body leaning awkwardly against the steering wheel. His head was limp, due to his neck snapping in the accident. Jerry closed his eyes, so he wouldn't look at the image any longer. When he re-opened his eyes, his body felt weightless. He saw Jamie in front of him, and she was floating off the ground. She reached out her hand, for him to take.

Jerry took her hand and said, "I forgive you."