Eve

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WELL, THAT CONFIRMS that.

He made sure I understood he’s just being polite, nothing more. 

It’s better really, right?

I mean, I’m leaving in two days anyway, so starting up something now would be emotional suicide.

It would take me a year just to figure out how to have a relationship, given my entire lack of experience in that department.  And I don’t want to fall for anyone, not really.  Love has never been on my list of to-dos.  Seems a lot of risk for very unsure reward and I feel like I’m just getting my life back on terra firma.

Nope, I’m in no place for a relationship, let alone falling in love.

I think I’m half in love already.

NO.

Stop it.

It’s better that I’m leaving.

Yep, things happen the way they should.

No lumberhunk for me.  Maybe someday, with someone, just not now.

Not with him.

At that thought, my stomach turns.

Even the idea of someone else makes me want to cry.  What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s just the holiday.  It’s just the whole going back home thing, it’s got me twisted ten ways to Sunday.

Deep breath, girl.

I grip the steering wheel as my wipers slap back and forth. The snow and sleet are sticking to the windshield and I am reminded I need new wiper blades.  Why is it whenever wiper blades start to go bad, they always lose the ability to clear the windshield right in the middle, where your line of sight is?

It’s a consumer conspiracy.  I’m sure they do that on purpose.

“Jeez.”  I squint, lowering my head straining to see out of the clearest strip on the windshield.

The sleet comes down in sheets and the dark road has turned to pure ice.

As I round the corner, the truck starts to sputter.  Just as it feels like it’s about to die, the engine revs and jolts forward. I grip the steering wheel, feeling my muscles tighten.

“Oh no you don’t.”  I grit out.  “You’re getting fixed right now, you can make it another half hour.”

The road takes a steep descent just up around the next curve and I hold tight to the wheel, praying I make it to the main road where there will at least be some streetlights and the occasional other vehicle.

“Come on.”  I announce over Carrie Underwood singing ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ and flit a glance at the phone sitting on the seat next to me. 

I reach over and pick it up, tracing my thumb over the smooth glass, wondering if I opened up his texts or his photos what I would find.

Pay attention to the road, dummy.

The fact that he gave it to me tells me there’s nothing there that would be all that interesting, but I still wonder if it was some sort of game. 

The thought has the tops of my ears getting hot and I stuff the phone down into my front jacket pocket.  I’ll leave it at the front desk tomorrow, so he can retrieve it without the necessity of seeing him again.

The less contact with him the better.  I’ve not the time or inclination for some hot commodity that makes me want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

Don’t be stupid, Eve, you have time.

“Damn it.”  I groan as the engine revs again, shooting the RPM gauge into the red. “Easy does it, girl.”

The engine slows and I say a silent prayer, feeling the tires lose some grip on the slick road.  The windshield is coated with ice where my wiper blades are doing a less than admirable job, leaving me with near zero visibility.

“Almost there.”  The main road has to be close, but it feels like a hundred miles away as I crouch down, trying to see through the one clear strip on the glass.

Just as my heart settles a bit, the engine revs again, only this time the tires spin as it lurches forward causing the rear end to spin and sending my purse and backpack onto the floor as I scream.  Things spill out and roll around, and in a panic I stomp on the brake but it doesn’t yield even an inch.

The truck speeds forward as I lift my foot then press it again onto the brake pedal to no avail, then yank the wheel as the rear end of the truck spins out of control.

“Shit!” 

The headlights illuminate the circle as the truck flies in a complete 360-degree spin, pushing dangerously close to the guardrail.  The steep drop on either side of the road would send the truck deep into the woods.  No one travels this road—

On that thought, there’s another wild acceleration of the engine and the back end of the truck slams into the guardrail as my body flings wildly back and forth against the seat belt.

The flimsy rail is not enough for the huge vehicle and I hear the metal screaming and tearing as the front end of the truck comes off the ground and gravity begins to take over.

I cover my ears, but it’s my own screaming I hear as the truck bounces and jerks down the embankment.

At the last minute, the engine dies, going completely silent to leave just the crunching of rocks and small trees under the movement of the metal. The truck turns mid-decent front end pointed down so I can watch in horror at what lies ahead.

Ahead, the headlights are aiming down the hill, but everything is a blur.

I scream just before the truck slams into a giant tree, shattering the windshield and popping me out of the seatbelt, sending me half hanging out over the dashboard.

I can’t breathe.  My chest hurts. There’s a stabbing pain down near the waistband of my skirt. Glass is everywhere.  The last thing I hear is a hissing sound, the last smell the strong odor of gas.

“Help.”  I manage, then everything is silent and the curtain comes down.

THE SOUND OF MY TEETH clicking together echoes in my pounding head.

“Owww.”  I bring a hand to my forehead and wipe away the freezing drops of water that are dripping off my nose and into my eyes.

My hair is plastered to my face as a wind whips around, making me shiver and throwing more ice-cold pelts of frozen rain against my skin.

I’m twisted up and over the dashboard.  Everything aches, but I start to wiggle my feet, then each leg.  My arms seem to be working and there’s no sharp pain when I shift my torso, trying to lift myself a few inches.

The truck is still hissing and I look upward to see the road a hundred feet above me.  The headlights are out and the only light comes from the moon, hanging just above the trees.

The overwhelming smell of gasoline turns my stomach and makes my head light.

I push up on the slick hood of the car, knowing I need to get out of here.  Being cold is one thing but being wet in subzero temps with a wind chill in the negative thirties, is another thing entirely.

As I look around, trying to get my bearings, there’s another sound.

It’s a ringing.  An unfamiliar ringing.  I look around the cab as I turn my body, trying to locate the source of the sound.  I’m stiff, and each movement aches, and I wonder if the sound is only in my head.

I shut my eyes, taking a breath and listening closely.

The phone, dummy.

Of course, he gave me his phone.

I start wildly slapping and pulling at my jacket.  The pocket is underneath my hip and I shift my weight, wincing at a small stabbing pain as I realize I’m on top of a broken shard of the windshield.

I reach my pocket, pull the phone out and see on the screen, “Dad”.

I hit the green button and bring the phone to my ear. “Help.”

“Eve?”  A deep voice answers and it’s all coming back.

It’s Chris.  Christopher.  Christopher Vixon.  Or Vix.  Or whatever.  But it’s him.

“Help.  I had an accident.”

“Where are you?”  There is panic in his voice.  “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.  I’m not sure.  I was coming down the road, there was this curve, I went though the guardrail—”

“I’m coming, stay on the phone, I’m not hanging up.  I’m coming, Eve, I’m not leaving you...”

“Okay” I breathe out, managing to push myself up and off the glass to settle into the passenger seat.  Freezing rain and snow move freely into the cab through all the broken windows and I hug myself tight, shivering almost uncontrollably.

The overwhelming smell of the gasoline in the more enclosed area of the cab of the truck has my stomach ready to spill its contents all over me.

Christopher’s voice focuses me. “You’ve been gone an hour.  I had to wait for the phone to charge, then when I didn’t hear anything, I had to be sure you got where you were going.  Fuck, I should have driven you.”

“It’s okay.”  My stomach is turning, there’s a fog settling over everything and the gasoline smell fills everything around me.  “I’m okay...”

My body shivers as the edges of everything begin to waver.

“I’m going to keep talking to you.  I’m in my truck.  I’m on my way.”

My tongue feels thick.  I want to answer him but I’m so sleepy and everything feels fuzzy.  I have to get out of the truck. The smell is so strong but I fumble with the handle on the door.

I can’t seem to get my body to move.  I click the door open, but freezing rain covers me. As I lean my head back on the seat, my teeth chatter uncontrollably. I make one more attempt to move, then everything turns black.