Dylan!
At that moment, my legs would no longer hold me and I started to collapse. I felt Dylan’s arms surround me as he held me up. He picked me up and carried me out the door to put me into his truck.
After buckling me in as fast as he could, he backed out and sped to the nearest emergency room.
“Hold on, baby. I’m going to get you some help. Please hold on. Please be okay.” Dylan’s right hand held my limp left hand tightly, desperation evident in his pleas.
Of course, I remembered none of these beautifully sweet and heroic things. I blacked out as soon as I fell into his arms before we left the club.
CHAPTER 8: DYLAN
When I drove up to Zia’s apartment building around nine forty-five p.m. on Friday, I saw that she was already standing just inside the front entrance waiting for me. When she saw my truck, she walked out and let herself in the passenger side.
We were meeting Zia’s roommate, Clara, and Clara’s date, Cason, at the Thunder Lounge. It was essentially a dance club with loud, rhythmic music, dark with various colored moving lights.
As soon as we went inside, we met up with Clara and Cason. It was apparent that Clara was not feeling well, and she was complaining of a headache. Zia offered to take her home, but Clara insisted on taking a cab while Zia stayed here and had a good time without her.
It seemed to be enough to get Zia to stay, but she at least walked Clara out to the cab to see her off. I could tell Zia was worried about her friend until she got a text notifying her that Clara had made it home safe and sound.
Meanwhile, I went to find us a table while I waited for Zia to return. Cason accompanied me. I recognized him as the same guy who had approached Zia and Clara’s table that night at the Book Shelf the day before Zia and I had met.
“Sorry about Clara, man. I hope everything is okay,” I offered as small talk to Cason as we sat at the table, just the two of us.
“She’s fine. Probably just a little dehydrated or something,” Cason said casually. Then he added, “So, you and Zia?” with one eyebrow raised suggestively.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I went with the truth to be on the safe side. “We’re just friends.” For now, I hoped. I didn’t know him enough to open up with any personal details.
Cason gave a wide-eyed nod. “You don’t say,” he said. Then he began looking around for a waitress. “I’m heading to the bar. First round’s on me. Whiskey sour?” he offered.
“Sure. Thanks,” I agreed. Then he stood and walked to the bar.
When Zia came back in from seeing Clara off, she found me at the table. “Sorry about that,” she said.
“I hope she’s okay. Do you think we should have gone with her?” I asked with concern. Clara really hadn’t looked well, dehydrated or not.
“She didn’t want us to, but the cab driver seemed happy to help her home. I’ll call and check on her in a few minutes just to be sure,” she said as she sat in the chair next to me.
About that time, Cason approached the table with the round of shots and took a seat.
I could tell Zia felt an obligation to include him in the conversation, but quite frankly, I couldn’t figure out why he was still there. His date had left feeling sick. I couldn’t fathom why he would stick around and not have seen her home himself. If it had been Zia, I would have been right there beside her, making sure she was okay and tending to whatever she might have needed.
Something was off about this guy, Cason, but at the moment, he was making friendly conversation. I assumed Zia knew him well enough since he was obviously dating Clara and had been for as long as Zia and I had known each other.
When he finally got up to use the men’s room, leaving us to ourselves for a bit, Zia seized the opportunity to point out a girl she had scoped out for me to talk to.
This was not how I was hoping this night would go.
“Go over there and talk to her. Get her away from her friends and maybe ask her to dance a song or two. Then take her off to a quiet corner to talk and get to know her a bit,” Zia instructed.
Great, I thought. I’ll be over there talking to some girl I know I have no interest in, while Zia is sitting here with some guy I trust as far as I could throw. Actually, I trusted him less than that, considering I could probably toss his ass pretty far if I had to.
I considered telling her that I wasn’t into this. If I opened up to her now, I wouldn’t have to waste my time playing this whole charade. Then again, that might have just sped up the inevitability of her telling me to get lost. I decided to stick to the plan, which was to go through with whatever course she had me on for the evening, and open up to her after we left when I drove her home. At least we’d be alone then.
I walked over to the girl Zia had pointed out. She was underdressed compared to her two friends, who were both wearing glittery outfits and jewelry just about anywhere they could put it. This girl had on a few understated pieces of jewelry, but she looked nice. She wore a one-piece pant suit that looked like something J-Lo would wear, along with a pair of open-toed ankle boots.
I could tell why Zia had pointed her out of the crowd. She was the only girl who wasn’t trying too hard to be noticed. She was classy, appeared confident in her own right, and quite honestly looked bored and out of place in this electronic dance club.
As I approached, I noticed the two friends of the girl eyeing me up and down appreciatively and conspicuously. I had to walk past both of them to get to the girl, and as I passed them to approach her, I could see their jaws drop open in disbelief from the corner of my eye.
“Hi, I’m Dylan. Mind if I steal you away for a while?” I held my hand out to her.
The girl looked up at me in disbelief before looking to her to friends, then back to me. “Me?” she asked.
“Yes... unless you’re busy. I don’t mean to interrupt,” I added with a charming smile, my hand still extended. I was confident she wouldn’t decline.
“Okay, sure,” she agreed as she took my hand and stood.
“What’s your name?” I asked her once we got away from the others.
“I’m Ashley,” she said, smiling nervously.
“Well, Ashley, I hope you don’t mind. You looked a little bit miserable sitting over there, so I thought I’d see if you’d like to dance.” I motioned to the dance floor. There was already a crowd dancing.
“Sure, I’d love to,” she answered, so we entered the dance floor and danced a couple of songs.
I stole a couple of glances at Zia when I could get away with it, not wanting to be rude to Ashley, but also not wanting to get her hopes up that this was going anywhere.
At the end of the second song, I asked her if she wanted to sit down, so we walked off and sat in a quiet corner away from the crowd and away from her friends.
“Who are the girls you’re here with? They don’t really seem like your style,” I guessed, of course, not knowing enough about Ashley to really know what her style was.
She gave me a guilty smile. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“A little,” I admitted.
She explained, “To be honest, I just broke up with my boyfriend a few days ago, so my roommates offered to bring me out tonight to take my mind off of things. They really did mean well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about the break-up,” I sympathized, silently hoping she wasn’t going to transfer her feelings to me, but feeling bad for her at the same time.
Ashley sighed. “No need to be sorry. I know they can’t all last forever. To be fair, though, you should know that I’m not in a place where I feel like I’m ready to move on yet.” She looked up at me, as though seeking my approval that this was okay.
Relieved, I told her, “I understand. Really, it’s okay. Since we’re being so honest, I’m not exactly in a place where I’m looking for anyone, either.”
“You had a break-up recently, too?” she asked.
“No, not a break-up. There’s just a girl who I’m really into, and we’re g
reat friends. But I want to be more than friends, and I’m not sure she feels the same about me,” I explained, feeling strange about opening up to a complete stranger about it.
If there was one thing I got out of all of this, I realized, it was that there was a whole world of women out there who were different and interesting, beautiful in their own rights, that I was completely oblivious to before Zia came along. Now that my eyes were opened to them, all I wanted to see was Zia.
I told Ashley it was nice to meet her and excused myself to head back over to our table, but when I got back over there, the table was empty. I sat down for a few seconds looking around, assuming that Zia had gone to the restroom, but I wondered where Cason had gone.
A chill ran through me as I suddenly got the feeling that something was wrong. I scanned the room looking for Zia, and my eyes closed in on the sight of her stumbling to the exit, strung limply on Cason’s arm and barely able to hold her eyes open.
Knowing that Zia never drank enough to get stumbling drunk like that, I knew right then that she had been drugged.
Fuck!
I immediately saw red, and instinctively shot up out of my chair, running toward Zia. I would kill this motherfucker before I let him leave with her.
On my way to her, I could see her weak and futile attempts to get away from him as she shook her head in feeble protest, a look of panic spreading across her beautiful features. I couldn’t get to her soon enough! I wanted to rip Cason’s arms off his body for touching her like that.
Running through the crowd of people, not caring who I had to push out of my way, I made it to Zia and grabbed her with both hands, pulling her away from him. He must have had a tight grip on her, because as I pulled her to me, Cason was pulled in my direction.
This gave me the angle I needed as I reared my arm back and threw a fist as hard as I could muster, ready to beat this sorry bastard to a pulp. My fist connected with Cason’s jaw and his face was pushed to the side in the follow-through.
I expected Cason would try to fight back, and I was ready for it, ready to go at him, but the coward stood dazed for the briefest second before putting both hands up in surrender, backing away, and disappearing into the crowd of onlookers now circled around us.
I turned back to Zia just in time to catch her in my arms as she collapsed, no longer able to stand on her own and now, no longer conscious.
I picked her up and made our way to the exit. I had to get her to the hospital and I couldn’t wait for someone to call an ambulance. My truck was right outside.
I got Zia into the passenger seat and buckled her in as quickly as I could manage before running around to the driver’s side and firing up the engine. I sped toward the nearest hospital with total disregard for any speed limit signs, weaving around the other traffic as best as I could.
“Hold on, baby. I’m going to get you some help. Please hold on. Please be okay,” I begged aloud, holding her hand, though I knew she couldn’t hear me. She had to be okay. Please be okay.
CHAPTER 9: ZIA
On Saturday morning, I woke up in a hospital room with an I.V. in the back of my left hand and Dylan’s hand holding my right. He was asleep in a chair next to me, his head resting next to me on the bed.
I shifted a little and he woke up.
“Dylan? What happened?” I asked groggily.
He let go of my hand and stood up beside the bed.
“You’re awake. How do you feel?” He avoided answering my question.
“I have a slight headache, but other than that I feel okay…”
There was silence as Dylan pushed the button to call for the nurse. Finally, he spoke.
“You scared the hell out of me, actually. I walked back to the table last night and you were gone. I looked around everywhere but couldn’t find you, so I thought maybe you had gone to the bathroom until I saw you being dragged out by Cason. I knew something was wrong, and when I got to you I saw exactly what was happening. He had drugged you, Zia.”
I let that all sink in quietly as I pieced together what I could remember, and suddenly the realization of what would have happened if Dylan hadn’t saved me when he did shook me to the core.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Dylan noticed and wiped it away with his soft touch and said, “No, no, don’t cry, Zia. You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
At that moment the nurse came in with a smile, as though nothing in her world was going wrong and she assumed the same for everyone else. She made polite chatter as she took out the IV from my hand and said that I was free to go as soon as I could get up and around; that there were no more traces of drug in my system. Whatever Cason had used metabolized through my system quickly, within a few hours.
As soon as she left the room, I asked Dylan if he knew where my clothes were, and I went into the bathroom to change back into them.
I steeled myself in the mirror. Now was not the time to have a break-down. I was stronger than that. I could do that at home when I was by myself if I had to. I just had to hold it together long enough to get home. I rinsed my face with water and used a packaged toothbrush to get the horrible taste out of my mouth before I exited to bathroom and let Dylan drive me home.
He must have known I didn’t feel like talking because he was quiet during the short drive back to my apartment. He walked me inside and up to my door before he hugged me and said goodbye.
When I got inside, Clara was still lying in her bed, not feeling well. I crawled in her bed and lay down beside her above the blankets.
She had no clue about anything that had happened the night before after she had left.
“You’re just now getting home? You must have had one hell of a night. I want all the juicy details.” Clara’s voice was weak, but she still managed to smile.
“A hell of a night, indeed,” I said as I broke down in tears.
“Zia, my God, what happened?” Clara sat up in her bed, realizing this was serious.
I told her what had happened, and I cried as she hugged me and told me she was so, so sorry, as though she felt responsible in some way.
I was just glad she was safe at home and nothing had happened to her.
I was also glad she wasn’t upset about things not working out between her and Cason, even though he may not have even known it yet. Although, I was sure he had an idea of it by now. If we were lucky, neither of us would ever see him again.
* * *
That night, after lying in my bed all day, sleeping on and off and otherwise wallowing in my trauma and self-pity, I decided I had to get away from it for a while. I knew it could have ended more badly than it had, that women much more unlucky than me had endured so much worse.
Losing control like that, though. Thinking of what could have happened, what would have happened had Dylan not showed up right when he had, scared me beyond anything I had ever felt before.
When I slept, I had nightmares about Cason. When I woke, I had flashbacks. This was like full on PTSD, and being that it was Sunday, it wasn’t like I could go in for an emergency appointment at the university counseling center. Even though I worked there, getting anyone to come in on a weekend was too much to ask, and I didn’t have any of the counselors’ personal numbers anyway.
So I decided to do the next best thing: Self-Medicate.
I took another shower, even though I had already taken one as soon as I left Clara’s room that morning. Then I got dressed and headed down to the Book Shelf for a drink or five.
It was already getting late into the evening by that time, and Marco was working the bar.
I think it was probably after about the fourth or fifth drink – vodka cranberries with double shots… I guessed that would make it like eight or ten drinks… Marco cut me off. I was mad, but in his defense, I was probably acting like a big old fool at that point.
“Can I call you a cab, Zia?” Marco asked in his Spanish accent.
“Aww, come onnn, Marco. Things were juss’starting to feel… nnnummbbb.”
The usually silent B at the end of numb was emphasized. “Juss one more drrrink. Tha’s all I need’n then I’ll juss go.” I slurred.
Marco laughed and handed me a glass of iced water. “Here you go, mami. You don’t have to leave, pero no beberé más, okay?”
I sighed. I’m pretty sure I knew what he probably just said, and I knew he was right. What was I thinking? I knew better than to do this. I didn’t even like to get drunk. I had lost control last night, and how did I respond the very next day? By just giving it away.
I wanted to cry, but I refused. I wanted comfort. I wanted someone to hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I knew I was stronger than this, and I was angry for letting myself feel so powerless, when I knew that I wasn’t. I knew I would never let anyone do that to me again. Never put myself in that position again.
But tonight, I wanted comfort. I could allow myself that, couldn’t I?
I could call Becker; no, make that should call Becker, if I was going to call anyone. Things were going in a good direction with him and me, and we had had a moment with the lovely goodbye kiss.
Unfortunately, I had no desire to call Becker at all.
My thoughts instead turned to Dylan. My thoughts constantly turned to Dylan these days. Ever since that first night he ran into me at the coffee shop, he’d been somewhere on my mind, whether it was at the forefront or in the back of it. In some way, it was constant.
He was an amazing guy. He challenged me and made me look at my beliefs. My first impression of him was completely wrong. Sitting right here in this very bar, the first time I had ever laid eyes on his beautiful face, I had made assumptions about him that could not have been further from the truth.
Then my thoughts roamed back over every wonderful memory we’d had together over the past several weeks. The night we went salsa dancing, feeling his hands on my body, holding me, smiling at me and laughing with me. The live band at the coffee shop and the way his face lit up hearing that music. The way he laughed standing outside the Yoga studio. The night at my apartment, just talking and getting to know about each other. How he rescued me from Cason and stayed by my side until he knew I was okay.
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