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Three yearsago
“Sergei,I am so sorry but I need to study. Am I horrible to leave you like this?” I wince as I watch him shake his head while his body trembles as he attempts not to vomit. I feel awful. His flu started the day before yesterday. He hasn’t been able to even keep the crackers and sports drink down all day.
“Go. I don’t want you getting sick.” He moans then runs back to the bathroom.
“Okay, I’ll have my phone. Call me if you need anything.” Then I escape outside with my books and laptop.
It’s a quick drive to the coffee shop on campus. The hours pass quickly, until my eyes begin to cross and burn. Lifting my head as I drink down the last of my iced tea, I see the place is almost full. Ten thirty on a Friday night with spring break next week, and I’m studying while people around me are on dates.
I sigh as the need to pee hits me now that I’m no longer focused on studying. Scanning the room, I decide my stuff is safe for me to run to the restroom.
“Hey, Celia, isn’t it? Did you need me to watch your stuff?” I can’t place him. He’s shorter, only an inch or so taller than me I think. His brown hair and eyes are soft.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I don’t think he’s one of the baristas here.
“Wow, you know how to hit a guy where it hurts. Keith March, I’m in your Pathobiology class. I was also in you Structure and Function one class last semester.” He chuckles yet the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Blushing in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t really pay attention to anything but class—”
Shaking his head, he says, “No worries, I’m joking with you.”
“If you could watch my stuff that would be great. Thank you.” I nod as I get up.
In the restroom I’m quick, I return and sigh with relief to find my things still on the table.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I say as I sit back down, gathering my things up.
“No problem. So how are you doing in Pathobiology? Professor Clark is an asshole.” He’s clearly waiting for me to agree with him, but I can’t.
I shrug. “Okay, I have dyslexia so all classes are hard for me. Professor Clark has been one of the few professors to accommodate me when it comes to taking quizzes and other tests. Without acting like it’s a big deal the way some professors and TAs do.”
His laugh is forced. “You’re pretty and smart though. He said himself you’re one of the smartest girls in class. You scored higher on the equine test than anyone. Hey, speaking of, do you want to come by my family’s farm and check out our miniature horses?”
“Miniature horses? I would love to.” I’m excited at the idea.
“Great, come on. We get there soon and my mom will make us hot chocolate.” He takes my bag with my laptop and books from me.
I go still. “Now? It’s almost eleven at night.”
“Yeah, now. My parents are up late waiting for one of our mares to foal. Don’t you want to see a live birth?” He walks away with my bag.
I follow, wary of offending him. His parents will be there. “I’ll follow you,” I attempt to compromise as I step to my car.
“Come on, I got you. There aren’t any lights and the roads are crap, easy to get turned around and lost out there.”
Hesitation holds me in place.
“What, too good to ride in a dusty old truck? Not everyone can afford a Mercedes.” He holds the door open to his large black truck.
“No, of course,” I rush to assure him as I climb up into the truck. I pull out my phone and text Sergei I’m going with Keith March to check out his miniature horses. Then jam my phone back in my pocket before he gets in. It’s fine. I’m being paranoid. When I pull up to his house and watch a mare foal, I’m going to feel like an idiot.
“So, um, how far away is your family’s farm? I can’t be out too late. My roommate is waiting on me. He never goes to bed without locking up the house and he hates when I’m out late and keep him up.” I’m making sure he knows someone is waiting for me, will miss me.
“Not far, your roommate will be fine.” I’m not sure but it feels like he speeds down the streets away from the coffee house. “Relax, we’ll be there soon.”
As we leave the lights of the city behind with him definitely going over the speed limit, it doesn’t feel like it will be soon. We’re almost twenty-five minutes out of the city. It feels like the middle of nowhere, especially with how fast he’s going. “Where are we? I need to get home. It’s almost—”
He smacks me across the face so hard my head rings. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid fat whore. You should be fucking grateful—”
