Let’s review, shall we?
This morning I had determined to get all of my errands done. My day off was precious and I did want to spend the afternoon lounging around in my tank top and cut-off jean shorts. Yes, I realize that style is so seventies, but I really didn’t care. What I did in the privacy of my own home really shouldn’t matter to anyone but me. But for the morning hours of dropping the dry cleaning off, paying the insurance bill (because for some reason I feel it is important that my agent know me by face and name), turning in my computer to get cleaned up, and spending an hour at the nail salon to have my bi-weekly acrylics done, I wanted to look fabulous...because this was the time I would be seen and I did care what people thought of me in public. So I donned my favorite jeans and my favorite liquid knit, peacock blue top. The perfect silver jewelry laying on my dresser and my expensive shoes – my one luxury – were the finishing touches.
There really was no traffic at this hour of the day and I was pleased that I was able to get in and out of each place in record time. I enjoyed the time in the chair across from the oriental manicurist. I am not sure why it is that the majority of the nail techs were oriental, but in a way I rather preferred it. There was no pressure to hold a conversation with him. I was able to enjoy a few articles in my still-unfinished decorating magazine. After shoving it along with my wallet back into my bag, I headed for my car, protecting my freshly painted nails the whole way. I had settled into my car and, after turning it on, found my favorite top forty radio station. It was times like these that I was thankful I was single. I had sole control of the music I listened to, as well as control of the television remote. (But that’s a whole other story for another time.)
I was finished with everything I needed to do and thought it might be a nice treat to get some fast food on the way home. That way I didn’t have to fuss over anything. I rather relished the idea of slipping out of my six inch stilettos and going barefoot. My shoes were gorgeous, but definitely had a time limit of wear. Thinking about my feet made me wish I had spent a little more time and money and gotten a pedicure. But then again, with the money I saved I could buy a new movie - my other luxury, although not as expensive as the shoes. Driving along with the radio cranked up, singing along with the latest dance song, I was getting more than a little frustrated at the car in front of me. There really wasn’t that much traffic and it infuriated me when someone just didn’t know how to drive. This car kept slowing and then speeding up. I began to wonder if he wasn’t lost. I always assumed that if an unidentified person behind the wheel of a car didn’t know where he was going it must be a man. They never did take the time to get directions, for anything, it seemed. I glanced at the license plate wondering, briefly, if I was going to need to memorize the numbers to report a drunk driver, and realized they were from out of state, New York to be precise. Oh, well, that says a lot. Again, I was making a snap judgment.
I wasn’t going to let this idiotic driver ruin my mood. I had beautiful red fingernails and my fingers were tapping along to the beat of the next song. I began making a mental list of the grocery items I wanted to get tomorrow after work. I was going to have a friend for dinner this weekend and I wanted to really impress her. I hadn’t had a chance to entertain a guest properly since I moved here from the Cleveland area. Lasagna sounded wonderful. Maybe some rosemary bread and salad. And for dessert some lemon….
CRASH!!!
It took a few seconds that seemed like about an hour, for me to breathe after the impact of my face went into the airbag. My neck was already beginning to feel a little sore and my knees hurt from hitting the dashboard. I pulled the bag away and found the door handle and simultaneously, with my right hand, reached for my bag. I found it easily for it had accidentally gotten hooked into my seatbelt. I always used my seatbelt ever since my first accident when I was not driving, but it would have cost my life had I not been wearing one. I gingerly stepped out of the car and began to get my bearings when I looked up to see that dark car in front of me – the one with the crazy driver. Why did he stop like that?
The sun was shining brightly and I saw a figure step out of the car. It was a man. Figures. And then I recognized who it was…
Now, here I am sitting in his car, him seated a foot away. His eyes are focused on the road, or it appears they are, for I cannot see his eyes for the sunglasses. I just can’t understand this. It is real. I accept that. But a flood of questions are ringing through my head, as it throbs with pain. Is this really Drew Roberts, Sr.? Does he know I am just a regular woman or does he think I am someone else? Does he know where he is going? And for heaven’s sake, WHY IS THERE AN UNCONSCIOUS WOMAN IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR? Will I end up there next?
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