Day 19

Tonight another story, another woman. The ending of this story changed three times while I was writing the story. Why? Did my mood change? Did the world start spinning the other direction? Did I spill coffee on myself? None of the above…it just…well, it happens sometimes. Characters don’t behave as well as non-writers assume they do. They take us places we didn’t expect to go. So for whatever reason, mood, rotation of the earth, or coffee, here is my story today.

THE ACCIDENT

She had an hour to get home. If she didn’t make it, he would be angry. He would suspect her of…well, it didn’t bear thinking of. When would she have time to have an affair, even if she had the desire? She’d learn to hate sex, and to hate men, but she couldn’t tell him that. If he found out…well, she knew him all too well.

The car in front of her swerved; he fishtailed and came to a rest across both lanes. She barely stopped in time; the rain had made the road wet and she almost ended up with her car inside his. She sat at the wheel and waited for him to get his car straightened out, but nothing happened. He just sat there slumped over the wheel as though stunned.

After a couple of minutes, she slipped out of her car and crept to the other vehicle. She wished she had a gun, or a can of pepper spray, or something, in case he was lying in wait for her. She’d heard about men faking accidents to get women to stop and help. She knocked on the window and called out hello. He didn’t answer.

She started to open the door, but he slid out of the driver’s seat, lying half in, half out of the car. Now what could she do? There was no way she could get him back in; he was a large man, and she was a small woman. She pushed and tugged, but it was no use. She started to panic. This wasn’t a busy street; the odds of someone else coming by were astronomical. It was unusual for her to met anyone else; only about once every few months or so. It had to be tonight…

Her phone. It was on the seat, waiting for her to need it, always alert for her. She grabbed the plastic rectangle and dialed 911. She whispered the problem to the woman who answered, but didn’t know where she was…well, she did, but not in a way that made any sense to the dispatcher. The woman was from the city, and had no familiarity with these obscure side streets.

“Keep your phone on, dear, so we can trace it. I’ll send someone right out. It will probably be…oh, maybe a half an hour, if I’m correct on where you are.” The woman kept talking, a soothing tone to calm her down, but she couldn’t hear. A half an hour? The roar in her head blotted out all other sound. She started to turn off the phone so she  could call him and tell him she was late, but…no, the woman needed her to leave it on.

The woman was asking her something. Her name…oh, what was her name? How could she forget that? She knew her name when she left…wait…of course, her name. What was she thinking? “Constance”, she whispered. “Constance Cameron.”

“Constance, you sound like you’re about to panic.” The woman was still speaking in that calming tone; it seemed to have the opposite effect. “You need to breathe, in and out, in and out, just…breathe.”

“But…I’m late…he’ll…” she stuttered, not able to say out loud to a stranger what she had never told anyone.

“He’ll be fine. The ambulance is on its way, and they’ll take care of him. Do you know who the man is, Constance?”

“No. I never saw him before. He just…he…slipped…on the wet road. And he’s…I think he…had a heart attack…or something.”

“Okay, Constance, that’s good. You’re doing the right thing. Keep on talking, don’t worry, we’re taking care of him. You don’t have to worry about him, Constance. We can worry about him for you.”

“Not him…it’s…” She stopped. If she said anything…if she told…if she put any words to her fear… he really would…kill her. She listened for the siren, hoping the time of arrival was shorter than her estimate. She couldn’t be a half an hour late…that would be…devastating. Anything more than five minutes, and he was in a rage.

“Constance, can you hear me?” The woman was speaking again. She kept saying her name, Constance, over and over. She realized the woman was trying to keep her from going off the deep end, but it was too late for that. She was already in over her head.

“I can hear you.”

“Good. The ambulance has your signal, and they are on their way. Keep the phone on. They’ll find you. Talk to me, Constance. I can talk you through it.”

Constance was in a deep state of panic by the time the ambulance arrived. Twenty three minutes…a lifetime. And she probably wouldn’t be able to leave right away. There was a police car with them. The police would have questions. But…then…there’ll be a police report. I’ll be able to prove where I was…she momentarily forgot her fear as the ambulance pulled to a stop and men leapt out to deal with the driver, still half in and half out of his car.

“Miss?” One of the EMTs was speaking to her. “Miss, are you all right?”

“I’m…fine.”

“You’re soaking wet. You need to dry off. Here, come over here. We have towels in the ambulance.” He handed her a towel, but it was raining too hard to dry off. She needed to get home…she had lots of towels at home.

The ambulance roared off as soon as they got the man loaded, but the police remained. There were questions…it seemed like hours worth of questions. Then she had to wait for the tow truck, because his car was still blocking the road. By the time she left the scene, she was already twenty minutes late. She tried to hold onto the policeman, begged him to…what? She couldn’t tell him. It would be worse if she told him.

She pulled into traffic as she got to the edges of town. She thought about running away, finding a motel, hiding. The policeman told her the police report wouldn’t be available immediately. By the time she could get it to prove where she was, she might be…using her towels to clean up her own blood. The motel…there it was, the sign said vacancy, she could pull in, get some sleep, and hide until the police report was available, until she could prove where she was. No, that was no good. He always found her. He would never let her go. He found her and carried her back home…home to pain. Home to fear. Home to…him.

The house was lit up when she pulled in the driveway. That was a good sign. He hadn’t turned off all the lights to crouch in the hallway with a baseball bat, waiting for her to open the door. She slipped her key in the lock; the door was unlocked and open. She felt the give and wondered. He never left the door unlocked. What was going on?

She slipped into the hallway and dropped her soggy coat so it wouldn’t get the other coats wet. She kicked off her shoes and went to the kitchen; the light was on in the kitchen, maybe he was there, sitting at the table, waiting for her to get his dinner. Maybe he was in the living room watching sports, and didn’t realize how late it was. Maybe…but probably not. He always knew what time it was. He knew what time she got off, and how long the drive was.

Nothing was out of place; he hadn’t been throwing things. There was no sign he had been there. Maybe he was out looking for her. Maybe he was at the motel, checking all the rooms, terrorizing the guests like he did the last time she tried to leave. She decided it was a good thing she hadn’t stopped at the motel. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, not sure what she should do.

The doorbell brought her back to the moment. She shook herself and went to answer. She realized she was still soaking wet; she needed to get to the bathroom, get dry clothes, shower…she needed to answer the door.

“Constance?”

She recognized her neighbor’s voice. “Louise? I’m coming!”

Louise shifted from one foot to the other, not sure how to say what she wanted to say. Constance wished she would just…get it over with. What was it? She waited, not pushing the other woman.

“I…you…I don’t know how to tell you. It’s…Sam.”

“What about him?”

“They…took him away.”

“Who?”

Louise looked uncomfortable. “I heard him…I knew it was too early for you to be home, and I heard him fall. I…I hope you don’t mind. I came in. He was…he was…lying on the floor…in the living room. He had a heart attack. I…called the ambulance. They came and…picked him up. He’s at the hospital.” Louise stared at her. “You’re soaking wet.”

“I…got held up, and was out in the rain. A car…swerved in front of me, and blocked the road.” Constance breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. Sam wasn’t home. He didn’t know what time she got home…or did he? “When…did…he…”

“It was…oh, I guess, about…5:00. He hadn’t been home long. Like I said, it was too early for you to be home. I…they want you to come to the hospital, fill out some paperwork, but they said they can give him emergency treatment. So…you can probably dry off first.” Louise put her arms around Constance. “I’m sorry, honey. I wish…I know it’s lousy news. But…he might be all right. I mean, they got to him pretty quickly.” She said a few more words of sympathy, and headed back to her own home.

Constance stood in the doorway, dazed. Five o’clock. That was almost the exact time the driver in the car in front of her had his heart attack. What a strange, small world it was. She headed toward the bathroom for a shower. She would go to the hospital, she would sign the paperwork to get him treated. She would not die tonight.

She pulled a towel out of the cabinet; she shoved it back. It was one of the blood stained towels, the ones he wouldn’t let her get rid of. She supposed he wanted them to serve as a reminder, so she would know what to expect if she got out of line. She pulled all the blood stained towels out of the cabinet and threw them in the trash. She found a clean one for her shower.

Before she went to the hospital, she packed a small bag. Not much, just enough to get her through a few days. By the time he got out of the hospital, she could be far enough away that he couldn’t find her. Fate had finally been on her side. She started to sing as she put the car in reverse. Sam would be all right…but he would have to learn to be all right without her.