No Family Trip For Me Please
A close relative was visiting me once. It was my day off and I was supposed to drive them quite a distance, taking around six hours, before catching a bus back to my place. My relative was significantly older and had leg trouble, making long drives discomforting.
Honestly, I didn’t fancy dedicating my whole weekend to this task—so I devised a hastened escape plan. On the morning we were due to set off, I took the trash out. On my way back, I rang my apartment’s buzzer from the main entrance that triggered the phone in the apartment.
Walking back inside as the phone was ‘ringing’, I ‘answered’ it, pretending it was an urgent call from work requiring my immediate presence.
“Man, I was psyched about our road trip this weekend, but, you know how it goes when work calls for an emergency.”
My relative seemed understanding. But I had to make things more believable. Since I had no car of my own, I requested them to drop me at work. Afterward, I hiked a bus back home.
This act of mine still fills me with guilt today. That relative was genuinely kindhearted and didn’t deserve my deceit. Sadly, they’re no longer with us. I prefer not to specify their gender to dodge the wave of guilt it brings, a guilt I certainly deserve.