Confessions of a Carpool Captive

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  The doors close just as he steps forward. “Liz, wait.”

  I stand, facing the closed elevator doors for a moment, taking stock of my feelings. I take a few steps toward my office before glancing back at the door and biting my lip. I smile as my head lowers and I push a strand of hair behind my ear. He thinks I’m beautiful.

  “Did you say twelve hundred dollars? You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “No, ma’am. Your car runs on cylinders and two of them are shot. Now, I can change out the two that are bad for less, but chances are you’ll need to replace them all. You might get by on them for weeks or even months, but there’s also a chance your car could die again, even while you’re driving it. It doesn’t matter to me either way. Your choice.”

  “But, I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “When a car gets as old as yours, this tends to happen. Do you want me to fix it or not?”

  I lean my head on my hand and close my eyes with the receiver still pressed to my ear. “Can you put me on a payment plan?” I ask.

  “We accept all major credit cards.”

  I do a mental inventory of the balances on the two cards I still have. They’re both almost maxed out. “I’d prefer to pay cash.”

  “You can pay cash, but we won’t release your car until it’s paid in full.”

  My boss calls my name and I glance up to see him approaching me. I don’t want him to hear this conversation so I whisper, “Fine, do the work and I’ll pay you as soon as I can.”

  “You got it.”

  I hang up the phone and smile as brightly as I can under the circumstances.

  “Liz, the report you did was fantastic. Do you think you could put together a spreadsheet of the last six months showing a comparison in project costs and revenues for my meeting tomorrow morning?”

  Holy fuck. That will take hours. “Sure, no problem.”

  As he makes his way back to his office, I push my fingers into my hair and check the time. It’s almost five and I have no way to get home. I rifle through my bag and am happy to find the extra sweater I packed in case I needed something warmer. If I stay here and work through the night, I can toss this sweater on in the morning and maybe no one will notice I didn’t change clothes.

  I feel the tears threaten my eyes. Twelve hundred dollars? How am I ever going to afford that? Even if I cancel cable, my cell phone, and skip meals, it’s still going to be a struggle. I wonder if I could take the metro to Buena Park and then catch a bus home. I’ve never done it before, but it can’t be that hard. People commute like that all the time. I surf the internet for train times and bus schedules. It’s very confusing. Before I know it, the office is especially quiet. It’s almost 7 p.m., and I haven’t eaten all day or started the report for tomorrow.

  I stretch my arms over my head, deciding to make the best of my situation for now. Since I’m going to be spending the night, I figure I should go downstairs and try to get a sandwich before the cafeteria closes. Pulling my purse from the drawer, I head to the elevators.

  I push three and lean against the wall, yawning. I stare at the ceiling and give myself a silent pep talk. I can do this. Somehow, I’ll make it work.

  The ping of the elevator announces my arrival and my stomach growls. The door opens to Finn, standing in front of me, glancing at some papers and my mouth drops wide. Switching my gaze from him to the panel, I wonder if I somehow pressed the wrong button. It stopped on four, but three is still lit. I thought he worked on twelve. I’ve never seen the same person twice in this building since I started working here, yet I keep running into him. What the fuck is wrong with my luck these days?

  He lifts his head and grins with what I’ve decided is his trademark crooked smile. I bet it woos all the girls, except me. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he says with a wink.

  I nod and do my best to fake laugh at the irony. Shit. I don’t need this right now.

  “Headed home?” he asks, pressing the button for the garage.

  Not wanting him to know about my situation, I lie. “Yep. You?”

  “Yes, finally. It’s been a long day. How’d things go with the car?”

  “Great. All set,” I respond, not making eye contact.

  He leans on the back wall next to me, holding his briefcase. The door opens on three and I ignore it. He leans out the door to see if anyone is waiting. “Did you need to get off here?” he asks me.

  “Nope. The guy that was in here before you must have accidentally hit it.”

  He purses his lips, twisting his head to view me. I feel like he’s staring and it makes me nervous. My stomach growls again. I cough in an attempt to cover the sound.

  The door opens for the exit to the parking garage and he motions for me to go first. I hesitate, not knowing how to behave. I take a step forward, wondering how to fake going to a car that doesn’t exist.

  “Wait a sec,” he says, holding his hand out to stop me.

  Swallowing hard, I fear he’s figured me out.

  “Where’s your bag?”

  “My bag?” I ask, confused. “Oh, right. My bag. I’m always forgetting that thing.” I see my out and I’m relieved. “Gotta go back. Guess I’ll catch you later.” I might be a bit too enthusiastic.

  “I’ll go with you. I don’t want you walking through the garage alone.”

  I roll my eyes at him and his damn manners. “Finn, please. I’m a big girl. I’ve walked out alone many a night and I’ve been just fine. I’ve worked here for four years and haven’t died without you yet.”

  He smirks. “Yet.”

  Reaching out to stop the door from closing and stepping inside, I nod toward him. “Goodnight.”

  He shrugs. “Goodnight, Lizbeth.”

  I fake smile, needing him to hurry up and go away.

  He stares at me with scrutiny as the doors close. I wave happily, glad to be off the hook and rid of him.

  I press three one more time before placing my hand over my hollow stomach. Soup would be amazing.

  Making my way to the cafeteria, I see a couple of restaurant workers heading toward the elevators. I speed up in hopes of getting something before they all leave. Locked doors greet me. I pound on them a few times while checking the time on my phone. No one answers. Leaning my head on the doors, I sigh in frustration. “I’m really having a fucking awesome week. Aren’t I?” I say to no one. I almost laugh to stop myself from crying. Instead of doing either, I check my purse for cash for the vending machine on my floor.

  I manage to scrape together a dollar fifty. That should be enough for some chips or something. Exiting on my floor, I take a leisurely stroll to the machine by the break room. I push the button for cookies and watch my dinner slowly descend. Opening the package, I make my way through the empty office. Stuffing a cookie into my mouth, I round the corner to my cubicle, humming “Work” by Rihanna.

  I stop suddenly when I see Finn spinning in my chair with his arms crossed.

  “Did you get lost?” he questions with narrowed eyes.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper while chewing, startled.

  He points toward my cookies. “Snack?”

  I swallow. “Yeah, I was hungry so I got something for the ride home.”

  “Good thinking.” He stands and pushes my chair against my desk. “Grab your sweater and bag, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I told you I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

  “Yeah, I heard you both times you said it.”

  I cross my arms. “You’re being ridiculous. Please go.”

  “I’ll go when you do,” he says, crossing his arms and mimicking my movement.

  “Dammit, Finn. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to walk me to my car.”

  “Why is that?” he asks, widening his stance.

  “Because I don’t want to be around you. You’re annoying.”

  He places his hands behind his back and purses his lips. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Graspin
g my hair in my hand, I pull it tightly around my fingers before letting it fall. I need to figure out how to get rid of him. “Listen, the truth is I’m really behind on my work. I have a project due in the morning and I decided it would be best if I stuck around for a bit. I know you’re trying to be kind, but I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll even call security to walk me out, okay?”

  He studies me for a moment. “You’re a horrible liar.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Where’s your car, Liz? And don’t lie to me this time.”

  “Fuck you! I’m not lying.”

  “Liz—”

  “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call security—on you.”

  He takes a deep breath and shakes his head at me.

  Pushing past him forcibly, I pick up my phone. “I’m warning you. Leave. Now!”

  He raises his hands to me. “Okay. Alright. I’ll go. Have a wonderful evening, Ms. Foley.”

  I cross my arms and watch him slowly tread away; I even step out from my cubicle to make sure he gets on the elevator.

  He glances back at me one last time and there’s a softness in his eyes. It’s as if he’s hoping I’ll stop him. He doesn’t know me very well. I don’t need anyone.

  As soon as he’s out of sight, I flop into my chair. My faked anger quickly dissipates and I’m left with an overwhelming sense of sadness and worry. I stare at my cookie dinner and no longer want to eat. Turning my head from left to right, I glance around the empty cubicles and imagine my co-workers sitting around their dinner tables with their families, laughing and telling stories about their day. My head drops and the tears begin to flow. I sob softly before it turns into an ugly, nasty cry. Leaning my head down onto my folded arms, I let my fears overtake me and I let it all out.

  A few seconds later, a hand softly caresses my back. I jump and turn to see Finn crouched down next to me.

  “Come here.” His arms open and I fall from my desk into him on the floor.

  I grip him tightly as he holds me close. I don’t know what I’m thinking, crying on his shoulder. Feeling embarrassed, I push away from him. “What…what are you doing?” I ask, wiping my eyes.

  He pulls a light green handkerchief from his suit and hands it to me. “I’m letting you cry.”

  “Why are you here?” I ask as I dab my eyes and lift back up into my seat. “I told you, I have work to do.”

  He sighs heavily and his shoulders slump.

  I stare at him blankly and sniffle, recomposing myself. “What do you want me to say? I had a bad day.”

  “I want you to say, yes Finn, I’d love a ride home.”

  “I don’t need a ride.” I’m so convincing in my response that I wonder if I should try my hand at acting.

  Standing, he places his hands along the sides of his head and scratches his scalp with both hands simultaneously, releasing a small growl. “I do believe I may have met my match in stubbornness.”

  Closing my eyes, I reopen them to the cookies on my desk. These cookies don’t come in singles. There are five to a pack, like a little family. I miss having a family to come home to. As much as I want to tell him the truth, I’ve gone this far and I don’t know how to turn back. “I told you, I’m not good with talking,” I manage in a whisper.

  “Then don’t say another word. Turn off your computer and your light. Pick up your sweater and purse and simply walk with me. That’s all I’m asking.”

  I gaze up into his tender eyes. He holds out his hand to me and motions toward the elevators with a small nod of his head.

  I consider my choices: trying to sleep in my office chair or curling up in my warm bed. I glance around uneasily until my eyes fall once again on his open hand. Swallowing hard, I take a leap of faith and place my hand in his. I hear him sigh in relief. I stand and turn off my light. I always log out before I leave my desk, so the only thing I need to do is pick up my things.

  He reaches out to take my bag, but stops himself. I’m grateful he remembered. I really don’t want to say another word. I may end up spending the night here if I do.

  We walk in silence all the way to his car and we drive the entire way back to my place the same way.

  When he pulls in front of my building, I pause before opening the door. I don’t know what to say or how to say it. He speaks first.

  “I’ll be here at 6 a.m. sharp. See you tomorrow.”

  I glance over to him and there’s kindness in his eyes. I think it’s always been there, I just didn’t know what it was until now. Lifting my bag, I walk to my door and turn to wave goodbye. He waves back before pulling away, leaving me genuinely surprised and extremely grateful that Finnigan Walsh is a man who never gives up.

  I sip my caramel macchiato and note we are making excellent time. I’m thankful for the caffeine this morning. I stayed up half the night completing the report my boss needed for his meeting. When I finally crawled into bed, I couldn’t sleep, even though I was incredibly grateful for the chance to do it at home.

  Finn is slowly drinking his one black cup of coffee and is unusually quiet this morning. Even though I sense he’d never pressure me for answers, I feel as if I owe him some kind of explanation.

  I fidget with a string hanging from my cardigan, attempting to gain the courage to break the ice between us.

  We both turn to look at each other at the same time, mouths open with the beginnings of a sentence.

  “You first,” he states with an open hand, palm up.

  “No, you go ahead. I don’t remember what I was going to say.” I don’t lie very well.

  He reaches into his suit pocket and removes something as he speaks. “I was going to ask if you’d like some gum?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He nods his head and unwraps a piece, stuffing it into his mouth then playing with the wrapper in his hand.

  We sit in silence for what seems like an eternity before I finally get the courage to try again. “The cylinders are shot. It’s going to be a while before I can get it fixed.” As usual, my attempt at conversation leaves a lot to be desired.

  “Cylinders? Are they important?” he asks.

  I half expected him to act surprised that I brought up my car, like he wasn’t curious. But, he’s refreshingly straightforward. “Yeah, they’re pretty good things to have from what they tell me.”

  “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

  I nod my head. “I’m going to figure out the train schedule today so I should be good for my ride home, but thank you for last night. And thank you for not pushing me for answers.”

  “Two things,” he begins. “First, I have learned that patience is a gift, especially with you. Second, and I’m going to repeat myself even though I feel like a broken record, you DO NOT need to take the train or figure out a way home when I am perfectly capable of driving you.”

  “I know you are, but—”

  “Do you realize that I can cut at least thirty minutes off my drive every morning simply by picking you up? Do you have any idea what I can accomplish in thirty minutes?”

  I shake my head as he counts items on his fingers.

  “I can make an amazing eggs Benedict for breakfast. I can make two to three business calls securing advertisements for Seamore’s next big project. I can take a long, hot, relaxing shower.”

  I picture him naked and feel my face blush at the idea.

  “I can plan meetings, make contacts, develop life-altering marketing strategies—”

  I finish his list. “Put that goop in your hair that makes it stand perfectly still even in the wind, fight world hunger, create world peace…”

  He laughs. “Exactly. You’re saving me and the world by being my passenger. You really and truly are.”

  He glances over at me, eyes deep blue and sincere. The dark suit he’s wearing today makes them pop even more.

  Traffic crawls and we come to a stop in the carpool lane. He places one hand over his heart. “Let me drive you? Please? Help me fight world hung
er?”

  I roll my eyes and consider his words. He’s somehow made me feel like I’m helping him rather than being a burden. How did he manage to make me feel like I’m doing him a favor when he’s doing one for me?

  “One condition,” I state.

  “Name it.”

  “You let me help pay for gas.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Fine, then train it is.” I cross my arms and lean back in my seat.

  “Damn. Does everything have to be your way or the highway?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you have car repairs to make?” he asks, placing both hands on the wheel when traffic moves again.

  “That’s true. The more money I have, the faster I can stop riding with you.”

  His eyes widen and he sits up straighter in his seat. “Fine. You can help pay for gas.”

  I smile. That was easier than I thought it would be. Even though I will miss my quiet mornings alone with my thoughts, I’m relieved to not have to worry about getting back and forth to work every day, for now.

  “I think we should exchange cell phone numbers in case something comes up,” he says, lifting his phone from the cup holder and handing it me.

  I’m not sure I should tell him I may have to cancel my service to pay for the car. I decide to give it to him for now. If I turn it off and he can’t get through, I’ll explain then. There’s no reason he’ll need to call me anyway.

  Placing my finger on the home screen, it flashes to a picture of Finn with an attractive-looking guy. Their arms are around each other and they’re both smiling. My mouth drops. Is he gay? I want to ask, but I don’t know how. Instead I just stare at the picture and feel a pit of disappointment grow in my stomach. I oddly hate the idea that he could be into guys. Did I read him wrong?

  He notices me studying the home screen. “It’s a good picture, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” I swallow hard. I need to know, but I don’t know how to ask. “Is this your boyfriend?” I blurt it out before I can think of an alternative.

  “My what?” he laughs. He briefly rotates his head to me. His laugh ends abruptly and his mouth drops when he senses I’m serious.