by Mia Perry
I know I have spent a long time in the restroom. I don’t want to keep Jack waiting for too long. I know guys don’t have too much patience waiting like this, especially when waiting for a stranger girl. But I do need more time. I try to apply my eye shadow and eyeliner as fast as I can. I don’t have enough time to curl my lashes perfectly. They stick out straight, giving me a half-asleep look.
I put everything back to my cosmetic bag and rush out. “Sorry, Jack,” I apologize.
Jack had almost dozed away. His mouth is half-open. He opens his eyes and blinks them a few times to really wake up. Then, his eyes grow large and round. “Holy sh—” his word fades out just in time.
“What?”
“You’re freakin’ pretty!”
I’m not sure if he is serious or just joking. With the panda eyes, I have zero confidence with that pretty comment—unless his definition of pretty means something else. But, as a girl, I really like what he said. “Thanks,” I smile.
Chapter Six
We are back on the highway. It stops snowing. But the road is still covered with fluffy snow everywhere. Jack brings the car to the left lane.
“Jack, should we take the middle lane?” I know it’s not my business but I really don’t want anything to happen.
“Don’t worry,” he turns to me and smiles. “I like the left lane.”
I know what he means. That’s the fast lane. However, he is doing only thirty five to forty mph anyway. What’s the point of taking the fast lane? Plus, there is not a soul on the highway except for us.
Oh, well, it’s his car and he is driving. I figure I shouldn’t say anything.
I feel my eyelids are heavy. Soon, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
Suddenly, I wake up. I open my eyes and see Jack’s big hand on my lap. It pushes down really hard and moves violently.
Oh my gosh! I really feel sorry for trusting this guy only because he acted nicely to me. What is he going to do to me? Should I yell and struggle? If I do, is he going to hurt me?
Murder suspect! Now I know he was not joking when he told me that. Did he assault girls and then kill them? Is he going to do the same to me tonight? I looked outside. I see only bushes and trees.
Gosh! My parents will never find me. I watched a horrible documentary a while ago. The murderer dumped a girl’s body right beside the highway. After six months, he was caught. But the police had a hard time finding the remains of the body because almost everything was gone. Wild animals had taken away almost all the body parts.
My mother and father don’t care much about me. But still, they may cry when they realize I will never come back. At least my mother may because she cried when Finn, our Rottweiler, died.
Many other thoughts pop up in my mind, too. I never realized I could think so fast.
“Emilie,” Jack says, pulling his hand back to the wheel. “Be my girlfriend, okay?”
What? This man is nuts! I look at him, not knowing what to say.
He thumbs back. I looked into the rear mirror. Oops! A cop car is flashing right behind us.
Jack brings the car to the shoulder and then stop.
“Jack, what happened?” I whispered. “Were you speeding?”
“Heck, no,” Jack shake his head. “I’m only doing forty.”
I know he is telling the truth. The road is so slippery now.
The cop car stops behind us. But no one comes out.
“What’s going on?” I ask. I watched those cop 911 documentary shows. I know that sometimes they cover each other with a rifle. Am I at the gun point? I don’t want to think any further.
Finally, the door opens. A cop gets out and walks over. He is easily six feet tall, or maybe taller.
Jack rolls down the window, “Hi, officer.” He gives the cop a big smile.
“Driver’s license, please,” the cop orders.
Jack pulls his driver’s license from the wallet and hands it to the cop.
The cop takes a quick look at the driver’s license and then asks, “She is?”
“My girlfriend,” Jack says immediately, putting his hand back on my lap.
The cop looks at me. I smile and nod.
The cop raises his eyebrow.
Is he skeptical? I hold Jack’s arm and shoulder immediately. “My boyfriend.”
The cop gives back the driver’s license. “The left lane is only for passing and fast traffic, understand?”
“Yes, sir!” Jack gives the officer another big smile, showing all his teeth, like a dog scaring an intruder away.
“Forty miles an hour is definitely not fast traffic.”
“No, it’s not,” Jack shakes his head and widens his eyes.
“Next time, I will have to give you a ticket,” the officer looks so serious. Then he smiles, “Have a nice trip.”
Phew… We look at each other, shaking our heads. Jack waits until the cop drives away.
He moves the vehicle to the middle lane. “You know what?” he says. “I’d rather get a speeding ticket. It’s absolutely insane to get a ticket for driving too slow.”
“Jack, I thought you were going to assault me.” I murmured.
“Me? Assaulting you on the highway?” Jack’s eyeballs pop like ping pong balls. “Kid, you have the most fantastic imagination.”
For the first time, I really feel safe and comfortable to stay with this stranger. I don’t know if he is Jack or Mr. Vladimir Something or whatever weirdo. Maybe he has his own dark world. But I know he is not going to hurt me.
He is definitely not the Hollywood kind of boys, who girls fall in love at the first glance. However, the longer you stay with him, the more you will like him. Oh, well, I agree, being together for about three hours is not long by any definition. But I have to admit I'm beginning to like him already.
I don’t want him to know what’s in my mind. I steal a look every time I have a chance—when I believe he is not paying attention to me. He seems pretty relaxed, mumbling some songs and wiggling his body. But I can’t hear a thing.
He is strong. Every time he turns or moves, the muscles on his neck, shoulders, arms, and body grow so big, they may break his T-shirt at any moment. How would it feel getting held by those muscles? Oops… Emilie.
Did he ask me to be his girlfriend? He did but that was not for real. What if that was real? What if he likes me, too? I steal a quick look from the corner of my eyes. He is still mumbling his songs. Hello…?
I know this is crazy. I was cheated by my boyfriend. But it’s not even one day yet. Thinking about a new relationship this fast is insane, indeed. But I can’t help it.
This weird thought reminds me of one thing: my cellphone.
Chapter Seven
“Jack, do you have an iPhone charger?”
“Sure,” says Jack. He reaches down to the armrest compartment in between us and opens it. “Feel free to use it.”
I see a tiny cable connected to a USB port. “Thanks so much,” I say. I pull out my iPhone and connect it to the cable.
Soon, my iPhone screen turns on. Then I hear a few beeps. Text messages. I look at the time. It’s close to four in the morning. Who is so crazy to text me in this time of the night?
I slide my finger through the screen and see the message list. Many are ads. But there is one from someone I’m really familiar with. Anthony, my cheating boyfriend.
I become really angry. I don’t want to hear from him. But what does this liar have to say? I peek at the message.
Where are you, Emilie? We're worried about you.
Oh, yeah. Good, this is really good. Thank you so much, Mr. Anthony, The Liar! You really worry about me? And who is this we? You and that fat ass? Did you send this message from my bed?
“Fuck!” I mumbled.
“What?” Jack’s eyes rounded. I guess he never thought I would swear just like that. But he still sounds cool.
“Nothing,” I turn off my iPhone and close my eyes.
I open my eyes. The sky is still dark. But I can se
e the morning light revealing on the east side. Jack is gassing up. “Holy shit! This is freezing!” He rushes back and starts the engine.
“Jack, can I pay for the gas?” I ask.
“Oh, no, I’m going to New York anyway,” he says, focusing his eyes on the road. “It’s still early. You can sleep a bit longer.”
“I’m fine now.” I pull out my makeup mirror and check carefully. The black circles around my eyes are almost gone. I look almost like a normal girl. Good! I add a bit lipstick and put the mirror back to the cosmetic bag. “Did you sleep at all last night?” I ask.
“Nope. But I’m okay,” Jack says in a flat voice. After a while, he yawns. “Thanks for reminding me,” he smirks.
I look at the GPS. We are getting close to New York. The morning traffic is building up on the highway.
What’s my class schedule today? Shoot! I don’t have any. Come on, Emilie. You are no longer a college girl. You are nobody. You are a lonely girl on this lonely planet. That’s. It.
My dear father always says kids in the Morgan family are strong. They never cry. But I really want to cry now. I try to hold back my tears. It’s not because I want to be strong, but because I don’t want to ruin my makeup and get panda eyes again. I lean back and close my eyes. I try to think about things that are happy and pleasant. But I can’t think of any. My body is shaking.
“You okay?” Jack turns and asks. “Holy—” he passes me a box of tissue.
I try to say thanks. But no words come out from my mouth. I wipe my tears with the tissue. I know my mascara is being washed away. I know my face is a mess again.
Welcome to New York! A big sign appears. And it says: Population 8.337 Million.
How many of the 8.337 million people are as lonely and heartbroken? I ask myself. Then, I feel so silly. Come on, Emilie, your sadness is so unimportant in this huge metropolitan city. It’s a single water molecule in the entire Atlantic Ocean, or a nano-size dust drifting in the Universe. It’s less than nothing.
Last night, I decided to leave everything behind and start a new life. And here is the first day of my new life.
Is my whole life just a big misfortune?
9:35.
Jack becomes really frustrated. The traffic is not moving at all. The moment we exited the highway, the GPS said we needed about twenty minutes to get to the Greyhound station. Now, after one hour and fifteen minutes, it says we need another hour and forty minutes. “What’s this?” Jack growls. “We can walk there faster than driving in this shit!”
He turns on the radio. A sweet lady's voice is reporting the traffic jam and some accident. He slams the button and turns off the radio right away.
“Maybe we should take a break and eat first?” I suggest.
“Smart,” Jack smiles. “McDonalds?” He asks.
“Sure,” I say.
Soon, we sit in the McDonalds. Jack looks tired. But he still eats a lot; and fast, too. Twenty minutes later, we have finished our meal.
“Want one more coffee?” he asks.
“Sure,” I stand up. We walk over to get a refill. We sit down again, sipping our coffee and looking at the traffic outside.
“Have you been in New York before?” Jack asks.
“A few times. Vacation stuff with my parents.” Those were the times I went on luxury vacations with my dear parents. We ate everything but McDonalds because my mother said it was “totally, extremely unhealthy”. She sounded like we were talking about drugs or something. “How about you, Jack?”
“Oh, yeah. Vacation stuff.”
“With parents, too?” I ask.
“No,” he smiles. “With friends.”
This is really hard to believe. Can you imagine a bunch of guys go all the way to New York for vacations? Come on. This is silly.
“You mean… girlfriends?” I ask. My heart races quickly. I. Am. Jealous! Should I? Or am I entitled? Definitely not. But I can’t help it.
“No girlfriends, ” Jack gives me a weird, come-on-this-is-none-of-your-business look.
My face flushes. I know I’m stepping on his toes. Oh, well, not only stepping, but stomping really hard like a twelve thousand pound African elephant. I look at him. My face is all red. Are. You. Lying. To. Me?
Jack is smart. He knows what’s in my mind. He breaks the eye contact and looks down. That tells me He. Is. Lying!
“Okay, I lied,” Jack raises his eyes. Now he confesses. “We came to New York a few times a year.”
I can almost see him and several his female “friends” having fun in New York. Suddenly, I feel like my liar boyfriend, Anthony, is much better than this Jack because he played with only one girl, not several.
“But it was all business,” Jack adds.
I shake my head. What kind of “business”?
“Come on, Emilie,” Jack is frustrated. “This is a man’s game, okay? We ship things and make money. It’s that’s simple.”
Now he is giving me a totally different picture. A bunch of big muscle men ship things and make piles and piles of money. What kind of “things” can give him the kind of money he has?
“Drugs?” Oops. I didn’t realize I actually said that. I look around. Yes, we are in a McDonalds in the New York City. Too bad if I discovered his “business secret” by accident. He can’t hurt me a tiny bit.
“Huh…” Jack laughs really loud. People turn to look at him. “Come on, kid,” finally he stops his laughter. “That’s the old trick. Now we have the Internet.”
This Jack is now a total mystery to me. He is making huge amount of money with the Internet by “shipping things”. And his “business” is more profitable than smuggling drugs. Are these “things” blood diamonds, ivory, human body parts, or something worse?
“Come on,” Jack urges, “let’s finish the coffee and get moving.”
I look outside. The traffic is now much smoother. I gobble down my coffee and stand up. “Let’s go,” I say, wiping my mouth.
Chapter Eight
It takes us only fifteen minutes to drive to the Greyhound station. Jack pulls the car to the parking lot. He turns off the engine and turns to me.
Well, it’s the time to say goodbye. I feel a lump in my throat. I have mixed feelings with Jack. I don’t know how good or how bad he is. I don’t know if he really killed someone. But I do feel like I want to spend more time with him. I know this is the last time we are going to see each other. Good or bad, I will never see him again once I step out of this car. Isn't this really the way the life goes? I look at him, trying to swallow down my lump so I can say something nice.
Jack is swallowing really hard, too. Finally, he puts up a smile and says softly, “Good luck and take care, kid.”
“Thanks for everything, Jack,” I say, grabbing my duffle bag. I get out of the car and walk all the way into the station. I don’t want him to see the wetness in my eyes.
The moment I step into the building, I hear the car engine start. He is leaving. That’s. It. Life.
The line for the ticket is long. Big buses come and go. But I can’t hear anything. Did I leave too quickly? I ask myself. Now I realize what I did. I walked away from the man who saved my life and helped me when I needed the help the most. No hug, no phone number exchange, nothing. Emilie, see what you did?
Sorry, Jack.
“Next, please.” I hear the girl say. I look around. “It’s your turn, miss,” the man behind me smiles.
“One way to Miami, please,” I say.
“One hundred and seventy three dollars,” says the girl.
“What?” I can’t believe my ears. “Isn’t that one hundred and nineteen dollars?”
“That’s when you order from the Internet.”
“Can I order from the Internet then?”
“Sure you can. But the bus is leaving in five minutes. They are finishing boarding.”
What am I going to do now? I don’t have an Internet access service on my iPhone. I have only the basic phone service. It was Jack who showed me
the special Internet rate on his iPhone. But he left already.
“Next,” the girl looks at the man behind me.
“Oh, please, I still need my ticket,” I try to smile.
“One hundred and seventy three dollars,” the girl repeats.