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I threw the stupid backpack straps into the trash and then stalked out of the station and into the cold February air of Oklahoma City.
A bold move considering I had nowhere to go and no idea what the hell I was going to do now.
All I had were the jeans, t-shirt, Converse, and oversized hoody I was wearing. Oh, and my socks, I also had my socks. And some chapstick I’d shoved in my pocket.
I wanted to beat myself over the head. What had I been thinking keeping my little clutch wallet in my backpack???
Dear God, it was an amateur mistake and now…
Now I was wandering downtown Oklahoma City with no plan, no money, shivering my ass off while I waited for sunrise.
I did the only thing I could think of.
I couldn’t risk staying in Oklahoma City. Not after the run-in with the security guard at the station. Was it paranoid of me? Sure.
But the last time I’d run away, I’d made it to Portland and what had led Jeff to me was a goddamned cab driver whom Jeff’s private detective had interviewed—the guy who’d picked me up from the bus station.
I’d only been there a week before Jeff showed up, and dear God had he made me live to regret it.
I hadn’t been able to eat solid food for a month. He told all our friends that I was “having some work done.”
It fit the narrative he always painted of me as being superfluous, over-concerned with my looks, and dramatic to the point of mentally unstable if I didn’t get what I wanted.
Besides, in this case it was true, I did have a nose job. Because he’d broken the damn thing and it would be too conspicuous to leave it that way. He told the plastic surgeon I’d fallen down the stairs. Bastard couldn’t even get original. The plastic surgeon just nodded along and told me he could do a procedure to deal with the bags underneath my eyes, too, if I really wanted to keep a youthful glow.
I was twenty-four at the time.
I did not kick the man’s balls in, but I’d dearly wanted to.
So no, I couldn’t stay here, but I didn’t have any money to get to a more final landing place. I’d been hoping to make my way to Austin. It might still be in the South, but it was supposed to be liberal there, and it had a great music scene.
I had this dream of myself where I was the modern version of a hippie. I’d get some tattoos. Go to concerts. Maybe I’d work at a coffee shop. I’d finally reclaim my body as mine, and just enjoy some easy living, drifting along.
Drifting along sounded lovely. Maybe get some friends who were the genuine kind, and read books, and watch bad reality tv—the kind that Jeff hated—and I’d learn how to just be.
Not exactly a grandiose dream, but one that was mine.
Except that I was stuck in freaking Oklahoma City with no funds and not even a change of clothes! Not exactly an ideal place to start this theoretical new life from.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I started walking. I popped in a gas station that was open 24 hours and asked where the big highway was—I 35—and I walked towards it. Turned out I was in luck. It was just a thirty-minute walk away since the Greyhound station was so centrally located.
Then I found another gas station that serviced big rigs, and I did what I figured was either really stupid or really smart.
I asked around for anyone headed south.
“Girl, you stupid or somethin’?” asked a Latina woman of indeterminate age. Well, I guess that clarified the stupid question.
The woman was maybe in her fifties…or maybe a decade older or younger, it was hard to tell. She was wide set, wearing a flannel shirt, with long braided hair coming out the hole in the back of a trucker’s hat.
I squared my shoulders and looked her in the eye. “No ma’am. Not stupid, just desperate. All my stuff got stolen but I’ve got to get to Austin.”
She shook her head at me. “Kids these days.”
I didn’t correct her that I was hardly a kid at twenty-nine, especially since it seemed like she was considering giving me a ride.
“Well, come on, then,” she said. “I’m only going as far as Dallas, but you’re welcome along. I could do with some company to keep me awake.”
I grinned. “I’m great company.”
She huffed a noise of disbelief and checked out with her giant cup of coffee and donuts.
I couldn’t believe hitchhiking actually worked! But we had a great morning driving south. Mostly me asking her for stories about her life, and her telling me long spiels.
It was a gift I had. I could usually get people talking. I was a good listener, and was usually interested in what people had to say.
