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“I’m sorry…look…I was hurt, okay? I thought you wanted something more and I was wrong. I was just trying to get you into my car so I could get you home safe Fiona. Clearly with that maniac, Ulysses, on the loose…you need someone watching over you.”
Quade’s tone is so pitiful, and his eyes so crestfallen, I know he must be telling me the truth. And I couldn’t be more surprised by his ability to apologize and confess that I wounded his ego that night. I still have nightmares about the whole thing, but suddenly the perpetrator seems so small and insignificant. It’s just Quade, my goofy ex, the one I’ve watched a thousand movies with while consuming ten tons of popcorn.
I rub my forehead as another wave of tears threatens to flood me. Did I somehow blow the events of that night out of proportion? I was dead asleep when Quade entered my room, and I do have a history of scary experiences during sleep paralysis. The more I struggle to remember, the hazier it becomes. And to think that all this time I was being stalked by Ulysses, which makes total sense.
But before I can go getting too sentimental, my body is wracked with a sickening, wormy shudder of remembrance that I allegedly slept with Quade a couple weeks back. I won’t even hazard to confront him on that one or I might actually lose my dinner, and I’m feeling a peculiar faintness as it is. I have the sudden urge to claw my way out of my stifling, hot sweater as I collapse onto the passenger seat of…Quade’s…Royce. What the hell am I doing in here? Why would I ever put myself in a position where he has complete control over the rest of my evening? My fading last thought is of spoiled sushi, as he closes my door and the world goes black.
Chapter 32
Bo
At the risk of lookin like a jerk, I never planned to warn Fiona I was gonna come see her. I thought I’d just show up and find out if she’s really prepared to turn me away forever. Not to mention, I always have the feelin she’s hidin a bunch of stuff I’d wanna know about. All the more reason to surprise her. If the woman ain’t gonna talk, Bo’s gotta take the proper measures…ain’t no harm meant by it.
Eight hours on the road, I screech to a halt pullin into a gas station when a beautiful cat dashes right out in front of my truck, freezes in a dead staring contest for about ten seconds, then disappears into some bushes. Now if that ain’t an omen, I don’t know what is. I literally shivered as her eyes penetrated straight into my heart, and a guy like me don’t shiver.
“Hello?”
“Yes ma’am, is this Holly?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Bo Thompson and I’m an old friend of Fiona’s. I just had a queer feelin I needed to call her up right now is all. Would she happen to be available?”
Several seconds pass with no sound from Holly. I wonder if the gal’s hung up on me. By now she’s probably heard I’m no good anyway.
“Bo? Oh my gosh…yeah. I mean, she’s out right now but she’ll definitely call you back when she gets in. Should be any time now.”
“Well thank you very much Holly,” I say before pausing awkwardly. I guess I imagine that if I can keep her on the phone, Fiona will show up quicker. “I’ll just wait to hear back from her then.” Somethin in me does not wanna hang up, but I know that makes no sense at all.
“You bet Bo, soon as she gets home. Nice talking to you.”
“Nice talkin to you too, ma’am.”
After returning the gas cap and wheeling back onto the interstate, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and put the pedal down. Somethin don’t feel right, and I wanna either finish the next twelve hours of drivin right now…or be on the phone with Fiona. I need to hear her voice, damnit. Why didn’t I ask where the hell she is tonight?? Because it would be invasive and it’s none of my damn business. That’s why.
“Bo?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry ma’am…it’s me again.”
“Oh that’s okay,” Holly responds cheerily. “Did you just want to leave a message or something?”
“No, no I…I guess I was just wonderin if there’s anywhere I could try reachin her right now. I know she doesn’t like for me to use her number, but maybe if you could just tell me where she’s at.” I have to pause when I hear how fanatical I must sound. “I’m sorry Holly. You don’t have to tell me nothin that’s none of my business,” I say with an inauthentic chuckle. “I guess I just have no patience tonight is all. Men can be like that, you know? I hope you’ll forgive me for it.”
“No Bo, no need to apologize at all. Distance will sure do that to people. I’d be more than glad to tell you, except she’s just out and about. She had to meet up with her ex husband, Quade, tonight, and there’s nothing in the world she hates more. I’m not trying to get you worked up over anything, but she deals with him as little as possible anymore. So I’ll be waiting near the door till she gets home. I’m sure she’ll be in a mood, but she’ll be happy you called. Just cut her a little slack if she’s extra grouchy,” Holly says with a laugh.
“I’m much obliged Holly. I’ll treat her with kid gloves tonight. Thank you again.”
“You bet Bo. Don’t you ever hesitate to call her on my phone, any time.”
I’m surprised that I feel somewhat appeased after hanging up. I hope it don’t make me less of a man that I feel relieved Fiona’s with her terrible ex, but it explains away the feeling I have in the pit of my gut…and I guess that’s what I needed.
I throw on a classic rock station and lean back to ease my mind till I hear from my princess. Gotta get my head in the right space to make her feel the way she ought to feel. I smile to myself when You Wreck Me comes on, Tom Petty… tellin it like it is, the only way the man ever knew how. But I won’t be wrecked. Fiona will be in my arms again…of that I’m certain.
Every Breath You Take floats through my speakers next, exactly what I don’t need right now. I struggle against tears as the song develops, wonderin what the hell’s wrong with me. Why would I let a silly song get to my head? Every smile you fake, every claim you stake…it’s Fiona to the last note. I click off the radio to get an emotional grip, but the atmosphere refuses to lighten. As darkness sets in and my foot weighs heavier on the pedal, I know beyond doubt that I won’t be hearing from her tonight.
An image of the parking lot cat is burned into my retinas, in all of her beauty and distress. Although she communicated volumes in the few seconds that passed between us, it was no easy reading, and I’m not sure how I should translate it. Every time I try to make heads or tails of the experience, I sink into a mire of despair over the undeniable sense of alarm it initially gave me. According to that cat, Fiona’s in a lot more anguish than she usually is when navigating her ex. I’d even hazard to say I get a sense of danger, except I cannot let my mind wander that way. There are still almost ten hours between me and her, and I’ve somehow gotta keep my cool.
The next two hours disappear in a blur of intense focus, as I press into increasing speed…twenty miles, then twenty-five over the limit. Benefits of night driving on the open interstate. I refocus in time to notice it’s eleven o’clock in Iowa. Just as I thought…no calls from Fiona tonight. My shoulders slump as I mentally run a horrible scenario of showing up only to be turned away by a neutral, if not hostile Fiona. I tell myself that’s too bad to be true, but the doubts keep returning. I sensed she wasn’t gonna call, but can’t get a good feel of why she didn’t. Everything I’m pickin up on is conflicting, like she would have wanted to call me but somehow couldn’t. It just don’t make no sense.
