by Unknown
Tonight was another Sunday family affair up in Sacramento, complete with dinner and board games. All of the family’s usual suspects were there, plus Greg, Lindsay’s fiancé. We had a few good laughs, and for once, no one tried to throw anyone else under the bus with their life’s secrets.
Driving home from dinner on the I-80W freeway, I reflect back to the gathering, full of board games and laughter. I still can’t believe my dad almost lost to Greg during one of the many rounds we played. The look on his face, when he thought he was about to lose—priceless. I wish Nathan had been there to share in the experience with my family. I think he’d fit in with everyone, giving as well as he gets.
I let the air in my lungs pass over my lips with a deep sigh as I approach the long stretch of road from West Sacramento towards Davis. I really don’t like this segment. Once you’re on it, you can forget about getting off for a bit, which reminds me—do I have enough gas to make it home? Quickly glancing down, I see that the gauge is half full, which eases my rattled mind. This is my least favorite part of the drive, from here to Dixon. It’s dark out, and tonight, it looks like it’s just me, the highway, and no one else. Yep, it’s definitely time to kick the radio on so I can stay awake, but to also drown out the noises of the tires on the road.
It’s that, or let my mind prattle on about why Nathan doesn’t want me to know about his personal life. Is he hiding something? I don’t really think that’s the case, though I can’t seem to figure out what his deal is. The darkness of the night seems to be never ending, especially while I feel like I’m on autopilot, and wondering how to bring Nathan’s walls down.
“What the heck?” I’m suddenly pulled out of my musings by a strange noise. “What was that?” I frown, looking around the car before trying to inspect the hood out the windshield for any signs of—what exactly, I don’t know. “Great,” I continue to speak out loud to myself, which is something I do when I’m alone and freaked out. “Please don’t let anything be wrong with my car. I just want to make it home to my nice, warm bed.” I say, as I immediately shut the radio off, and then lower my speed a tad. I realize I’m gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight. “It’s just your imagination,” I tell myself, in hopes of calming my nerves.
However, the further I travel, the more I’m sure my Honda doesn’t feel right. My stomach starts to tighten as I realize that if my car breaks down, I’ll be stranded, completely alone. Maybe I should get into the other lane? I know there’s a shoulder coming up soon, where I can pull over on. Checking over my left shoulder, I flick on the blinker, then merge to the left lane. As I cross the white bumpy dividers, there’s another loud sound, which seems like it’s coming from the back of my car. Why do I have a gut feeling this isn’t going to go well?
I get a little further down the freeway when my stomach drops, because the car is starting to shake. My fingers hurt from gripping the steering wheel so hard. “Please don’t be a flat tire!” This is the last place I want to get stuck at. I’m basically in the middle of nowhere, alone, in the dark, without an exit for many, many miles.
If it is a flat, then I’m screwed. I start to panic, because I can’t even change a tire. Why did I never learn how? “Why didn’t the men in my life show me how to change a freaking tire?” I mutter, as I rest my head against the headrest for a quick moment, all the while praying I can make it far enough to find a decently lit place to stop, or to an exit. As long as it’s not a dead zone for cell reception I’ll be okay, because this area is pretty spotty like that.
“Well, thank the stars.” Relief floods my body when I see that the freeway now has a shoulder to the road. “Should I pull over, or keep going?” I’m seriously freaked out that my tire will blow, but I know that this isn’t really a good place to stop. Though, I might not have any choice in the matter.
My body is pretty tense, but I feel like I should try to go a bit further. It might be a stupid idea, though I do it anyway. I don’t know how much further I go before the right back side of my car starts making a rattling noise. My stomach sinks, and I know something even worse is about to happen. I’ve been in this position before, and it wasn’t pretty.
After another few minutes of driving, my car is shaking—hard. “No!” I groan. “Oh, come on! For the love of all that’s holy!” I really don’t want to pull over on this creepy freeway. This stinking car! It feels like it’s falling to pieces. “You can do it! Just a bit further. Please, just a little further.”
Unfortunately, my pleas are ignored a few moments later, while I pull over to the side of the freeway at 11:00 at night. Driving along this route, I’ve seen no other traffic, coming or going. Concentrating on my breathing, I can do nothing but just sit here, trying not to have a panic attack—even though I’m scared to death.
Just as I start to calm down, I remember what a dope I am. I forgot that I have a cell phone! I swear, sometimes panic mode takes over my logic. Reaching over to the passenger seat, I snatch my purse up and start digging for it. Of all the times to just toss it in this bag! After I fish it out, I swipe the screen, but nothing happens. I start pressing the power button, hoping it was accidentally shut off. But still, nothing happens. “No, no, no, no!” I chant in the silence of the car.
“How could I have a dead phone?” I toss my purse back into the passenger seat, and open the center console, looking for my charger. Not finding it, I lean over and look in the glove box, hoping the portable charger is in there. But of course, it’s not. Now I’m seriously ticked off at myself. I chuck the phone on the seat next to me, by my purse. “Why? Ugh, it’s too late for this garbage!” I complain to myself, as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel, allowing the tears I was holding back to fall.
Of all nights for this to happen, it had to be when I was on a deserted road! This has to be my worst night ever. I know what I have to do, but I dread it all the same. My stomach feels like one knotted mess. I really wish Nathan had been more willing to come with me to my parents’ house. So far, he hasn’t been too interested in meeting them.
I really don’t want to get out of my car, but I know I have to, so I can try to find an emergency phone. I say a silent prayer, steel my nerves, and climb out, locking the car behind me before I start a trek back to where I know the phone will be.
I’m scared. I’m cold. And I’m giving into my panic and letting my tears completely win the battle against any calmness I might actually still possess. “You’re fine. You’re okay. The boogie man is not out to get you.” I whisper to myself as I walk—for what feels like forever—to the yellow emergency phone.
I finally make it, and dial for help. I tell the person on the other end that I’m stranded, and I give the location to the best of my knowledge. The operator tells me to go back to my car and sit tight, with the windows up and the doors locked. She tells me to put the hazard lights on, and to wait for an officer of the California Highway Patrol to assist me, and not to allow anyone else to lure me out of the safety of my vehicle. My body shivers at the implication of that statement.
I didn’t think I could be any more scared out of my skull, thank you very much Miss Operator! Now I have to walk back to the car after that lovely little chat.
And wouldn’t you know it, as I walk back to the car, my mind starts to recall all the scary stories I’ve ever heard about people who hide in ditches and get truckers to pull over before they kill them. Putting a little pep in my step, I hightail it back to the safety of my car. Once I reach the Honda, I fumble with the keys, trying to hit the button to open the doors. I somehow manage to get in, where I settle into the driver’s seat still freaking out and trying to calm myself down. I really need to stop listening to the news.
It seems like I’m waiting for eons before I see headlights coming my way. They start to pull off the road, which ratchets up my nerves even more. Hoping it’s the police officer that’s supposed to rescue me, I can’t help but think, please don’t be a crazy person! A few moments pass as I will the other person not t
o know I’m here, and to keep moving when the car’s flashing red and blue lights light up the night around me, and someone exits the vehicle. As the officer walks toward me, I feel both relieved that my rescue party has arrived, but also nervous, as I remember the stories on the news about people using the app on their phone to impersonate the police. See? I should totally stop watching the news.
A tap against my driver’s window causes me to jump a mile high, and it scares the life out of me. I look through the window and up to see an officer shining a light in my car. He yells through the glass that it’s okay to get out, and that he was sent to help me get my car. He then tells me the name of the operator I was talking to, to verify the story.
I climb out on shaky legs, and with a wet face to boot.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the officer asks with a great amount of concern.
“I am now. Thank you for coming to get me. I was pretty scared sitting out here all alone.”
“I can imagine. I’m glad you stayed in the car with your doors locked. The tow company isn’t far behind. I think it would be best if you wait with me in the back seat of the cruiser.”
I nod my head in agreement, as I certainly don’t want to be out here alone any longer. Though, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling slightly apprehensive at the same time. Still, I follow him back to his car, and he lets me in. He sits in the driver’s seat and pulls up a computer, then starts asking me questions, filling out a report while we wait for the tow-man. A short time later, the towing company arrives and hooks my car up. The officer gives him directions to a shop he can leave it at in my town before dismissing the man.
“Is there anyone you would like to call, so they know you’re okay?”
“Yes. Is it all right if I call my parents?”
“Sure, you can use my cell.” He digs his phone out and hands it to me. I immediately call my parents and fill them in on what happened. They’re distressed by the news, but glad to know I am safe. Though, my dad wouldn’t be my dad if he didn’t ask to speak to the policeman before he felt like he could hang up, even knowing I was okay. Of course, he asked the officer for his badge number, his name, the station he worked at, and his license plate number. You know, just in case we had a creeper on our hands, I guess. I’m glad my dad is overprotective.
Sitting in the back of the cruiser, I heave in a deep breath, and then let it go as I watch the tow truck take my Honda away, before the officer drives me safely home.
I wonder if Nathan is worried that I haven’t checked in with him yet.
Holt, Tucker, and I are hanging around in the front room, watching ESPN, as we unwind for the night. I’m getting pretty tired as the night wears on, knowing I need to get to sleep soon, due to work early in the morning.
I couldn’t help my frequent glances down at my phone as the time slipped away, looking for any signs of Charlie through a text or maybe a missed call. I can’t help but wonder where she is, as I was pretty positive we were supposed to have a phone date. But, apparently that’s not the case.
“What’s up?” Holt asks, from across the room, in the best recliner we have in the house. “You’ve been checking your phone all night. Waiting for Charlie to throw you a bone? Someone’s a little whipped!” he laughs.
“She was supposed to call when she got home from her parents’. She hasn’t checked in yet.”
“Shouldn’t she be home by now?” Tucker frowns as he checks his phone for the time. “It’s well past eleven. That seems a bit late to still be up in Sac-town for dinner with her parents.”
“I know. I was just thinking the same thing, but thanks to you guys, now I’m going to worry even more.” I sit back on the couch and stab my finger at the contacts list to pull Charlie’s number up, and then touch her name so I can call her. I place the phone to my ear and listen to it ring, and that’s all I get—more ringing, and then voice-mail. I shake my head at the guys and lean my head back against the couch, dejectedly.
“I can call Halley and see if she’s heard from her,” Holt offers.
“Yeah, I would appreciate it. Thanks, man.” I feel a little bit better with the offer, hoping Halley will know something. It’s not like I expect Charlie to have my number memorized. Though, I know it’s in her phone, as I made it her number one contact a few weeks back while she wasn’t paying attention.
“Hey, babe. Have you heard from Charlie tonight?” I hear Holt say, as I turn my head in time to see his brows furrow. “No, she hasn’t checked in with Nate. We thought maybe she had called you, or maybe she was held up at her parents’ place?” He shakes his head at me, confirming what I’d already gathered— Halley doesn’t know anything, either.
“I’ll call Naomi,” Tucker quietly offers, so he doesn’t interrupt Holt’s call.
“Yeah, would you? Thanks. Call me back.” Holt hangs up his phone and tosses it with a clatter on the side table. “She says she’ll call Charlie’s mom, and then she’ll call us back.”
I nod at him. “Thanks. Tuck is calling Naomi. Maybe she knows something.” We both look over at Tucker, who is quietly speaking on the phone. He looks up and shakes his head in a disappointing confirmation. Sighing, I sit up and drag my hand through my hair, then down my face.
“Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe her phone died when she got home and she’s in bed now, not wanting to bother me so late.”
“Would you do me a favor? Would you swing by Charlie’s place really quick, and see if her car is home?” Tucker asks Naomi.
“No, don’t have her do that. It’s way too late for her to be out alone,” I admonish Tucker. He just shakes his head at me.
Covering the mouth piece, he says, “It’s okay, she was about to suggest it herself. She’s a bit worried, and said this doesn’t seem like Charlie at all.” Then he goes back to his conversation.
“Well, nothing we can do until we hear back from Halley, anyway,” Holt states.
“I’m going over there myself, even if I have to pound the door down, and her neighbors call the police. I want to make sure she’s okay.” I stalk down to my room and grab my coat, truck keys, and a baseball cap. I turn to leave the room when all of a sudden Tucker is standing there, leaning against the door frame.
“Why don’t you wait until one of the girls’ calls us back?”
“If this were Naomi, would you sit around and just wait for a call?” I raise my brows at him.
He shakes his head. “I would want answers, too. Though, I bet you’re rattled for no good reason. Calm down and wait it out a few more minutes.”
“I’m headed to Charlie’s. You can come or you can stay, but I’m leaving in two minutes.” I say, as I shoulder past him, and head back down the hall to the living room. “Any word from Halley?” I ask Holt.
“She says Charlie left her parents around 10 pm. But—there was a problem, which left her stranded on the side of the freeway.” I start to panic before Tucker clamps his hand down on my right shoulder. “She’s fine, Nate. She was able to get help. and now she’s on her way home. She should be there soon.”
“Thank Halley for me, will you? I’m going to make sure she’s okay with my own eyes. Are you guys coming, or staying?” I call over my shoulder as I walk towards the front door. “I’m sure Naomi and Halley will be there, too.” I can’t help feeling guilty for not going with her to Sacramento. She hasn’t asked me to these dinners, directly, but she’s hinted around a lot that I should come. If I had gone, then she wouldn’t have been stranded on the side of the road, late at night, all alone. I feel like the biggest jerk at the moment.
I slam the door on my way out, ticked at myself for not being better to her. I know her car isn’t in the best shape. I should have taken her there myself, in the truck. Shaking my head at myself, I unlock the door and climb into the cab of my Ford. Just as I start the engine, there’s a knock at the passenger side window. Both Holt and Tucker are standing there. I press the unlock button, and they hop in.
“You won’t do her a
ny good if you go over there like a maniac. She didn’t get hurt, or robbed, or anything else. Her car broke down, and she’s fine. Just remember that.” Holt says, though it’s not at all helpful in lulling me into a sense of peace.
“Look, she was a woman traveling late at night on a dark highway, in a car that’s not the greatest. I should have taken her myself. And another thing—even if she wasn’t in a bad accident or other trouble, it doesn’t mean I won’t stop worrying over her wellbeing.” I shake my head in annoyance at the guys, but mainly mad at myself. They just don’t get it.
“You may think we don’t understand, but we do. We may not be in committed relationships, and neither are you— if I have to remind you, but we would be worried if it were one of our girls, too.” Tucker says quietly from the back of the cab.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” I huff out, even more pissed off at them.
Ten minutes later, we pull into Charlie’s apartment complex. I find a spot, close enough to her apartment, and then jog over to where I see Halley and Naomi. “No word yet?” I’m anxious for any bit of information at this point.
“Not yet, but I’m sure she’s fine, and we all over reacted. She’s probably going to be more upset when she sees all of us when she gets here.” Halley tells us.
“Tough. She’ll just have to deal with having overprotective friends, and if she—”
I start to go off, but my words take a flying leap. At this very moment, I see a CHP cruiser pull into the lot, and making its way towards us. We all stand here, waiting patiently, when really, I just want to rip the back door open and hug her tightly to me.
The car stops in front of where we’re all standing, before an officer gets out. He eyes each of us, and then looks back at Charlie, who’s sitting in the back seat of the squad car like a common criminal. She looks all wrong sitting there.