by Joel Pierson
“Umm, yeah … about that …”
“What?” she says. “What about that?”
“I kind of put up a fuss on the phone when Fogle told me not to leave town.”
“How much of a fuss?”
“Enough of a fuss that I imagine the next thing he did was call security at the airport and told them not to let me fly out of here.”
“Shit. Are you sure?”
“No, but I’m sure enough that if we risked it, we’d probably find ourselves in real custody. So it’s you and me with the wind blowing through our hair again, I think.”
She shoots me a quick suspicious glance. “This isn’t just a ploy to keep from flying, is it? So you can have your way?”
“No, I swear. I was all geared up for a window seat and a little bag of peanuts. The whole works.”
“All right, because if I find out you play little passive-aggressive mind games, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
Within fifteen minutes, we are both ready to go. Fortunately, the hotel has brown-bag breakfasts in the lobby for business travelers in a hurry, and that’s us. We grab two and head to the parking garage to get the Sebring. Rebecca offers to take the first driving shift, and I instruct her on how to get onto the interstate northbound. We have a very long day ahead, and we both know it.
As the miles pass, a thought comes to her and she says to me, “This may be a stupid question, but when you get these messages, these assignments, they give you all this information—who it’s for, where they are, how to get there. Wouldn’t it make more sense just to give you a phone number, so you can call them and warn them, instead of doing all this traveling?”
“Not a stupid question at all,” I reply. “And an idea that I had too, early on. I tried it once. But imagine this: You’re at work last week, and you get a phone call from a man you’ve never met, someone whose name is unfamiliar, whose voice you don’t recognize. He tells you to quit your job, pack your things, leave Key West immediately, and go back home to Ohio. What would you think?”
“Psyyyy-cho,” she answers.
“Exactly. A voice on the telephone is quick, but it carries no weight, even if I claim to be someone the person knows. Think about it: What was it about my message to you that held the most weight?”
“The fact that you showed up there. That you drove 1,200 miles to give that message to someone you’d never met.”
“There you go. This is why I have to be there. Why they have to look at my eyes and hear my words and choose to believe me or not, with me standing there in front of them.”
“So … what happened to the one you tried to call on the phone?”
It takes me several very pained seconds of looking away as I search for the right words to say. In the end, all I can come up with is “Nothing good.” It ends the conversation in a hurry.
For about an hour, the radio is the only sound we share. The memory of past failures still stings, and she realizes that she has touched a nerve. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but there is no easy way to dismiss what transpired without inviting more conversation about the past, and neither one of us is ready for that right now.
After that silent hour, she makes the decision to turn off the radio and change the subject to the matter at hand. “I keep thinking about Wyandotte, where we’re going,” she says. “I know I’ve heard the name before, which is strange, because you said it’s been abandoned for years, right?”
“Almost abandoned,” I specify. “Most of the people left there eighteen years ago. A number of families stayed for a while, but it got to be too much for them and they left too. Now only one family is left there.”
“What drove everybody away? You mentioned a natural disaster. Was it a fire, an earthquake?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Usually, I’m given exactly as much information as I need to find my subject and convince them that what I have to tell them is true.”
“Who’s your subject this time?”
“Mr. and Mrs. William Harbison,” I reply.
“And their house is going to collapse?”
“So I’m told.”
“God, that sucks. Well, maybe this will be the incentive they need to finally move out of town, just let it go.”
“You think so?” I ask with a knowing smile. “Let me ask you something: Why would you live in a town all by yourself after everybody else moved out?”
She thinks about it. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a family home for generations. Maybe they’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“But you’d agree that their insistence on staying isn’t just random or even casual, right? Something’s keeping them there.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So you see we may have a difficult task on our hands.”
Hour follows hour, and Rebecca’s first shift at the wheel ends, giving me a chance to drive again. I catch her looking over at me from time to time as I’m driving, but she’s remaining curiously quiet, especially given the look on her face. Eventually, as I make my way onto Interstate 77, I have to know. “What’s that look?”
She plays it very innocent. “What look?”
“The look you’ve been giving me for about ten minutes, every time you think I’m not looking at you. That sort of knowing half-smile.”
“Can’t a girl look at a guy?”
“Sure. But there seems to be something behind that look. Something you want to say, maybe?”
“I was just remembering last night,” she says. “The good parts, I mean.”
“They were good.”
She reaches over and takes my hand in hers. I make no effort to resist. “I guess I just wanted to thank you for being with me that way.”
“Well, you’re welcome. It was something I wanted too. I just … couldn’t be the one to ask.”
“That’s why I asked. Your hesitance caught me by surprise. It was …”
“Please don’t say ‘refreshing,’” I interrupt. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with refreshing.”
“Then how about surprising?” she asks. “Because that’s what it was. Guys aren’t supposed to be hesitant. They’re supposed to be sex-crazed animals who don’t give a damn about the girl’s feelings or needs.”
Her words sadden me. “Is this what you’re used to?”
She nods. “Too often, yeah. But that wasn’t you. From the start, you were so focused on me, on what I wanted and needed. Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. Just who I am, I suppose.”
“Well, it took me by surprise, and I liked it. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect it from you.” She hesitates a moment, then voices a question. “Tristan … last night wasn’t your first time, was it?”
I give an embarrassed laugh. “No, it wasn’t my first time. As romantic as that scenario is, I’m sorry to say that my chastity is long since compromised. Why would you think it was my first time? Was I that bad?”
“Oh, hell no. Far from it. There was just something in your manner—the respect you showed me. It …” Then it hits her, and a new look of wonder lights her face. “Oh my God …” she says quietly.
“What?”
“I just realized what it really is.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve never had sex before with someone you didn’t love.”
I search for words to dismiss the idea, but they don’t come. I want to deny it and I don’t even know why. It feels like an accusation, though I know that’s not what she intends. “No. I haven’t.”
My face falls, maybe with embarrassment, I’m not sure. But she sees it and tries at once to reconcile. “Tristan, you don’t have to feel defensive or anything like that. I just … didn’t know, and didn’t expect that to be t
he case. It’s just one of many pleasant surprises I’m finding out about you in this time together. I didn’t mean to force a confession out of you.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, half meaning it. “I just didn’t think it’d be that obvious.”
“It’s not obvious. I figured it out because I’m getting to know you. And I like the things I’m learning. The reason I had sex with you …” She corrects herself. “The reason I made love with you last night is because there’s something good and powerful in you that speaks to me. It makes me want to be near you. It makes me want to stay with you on this errand we’re on. I just hope I didn’t seduce you into compromising your principles by being intimate with me.”
“Rebecca, it’s … it’s not like that. You didn’t get me drunk and take advantage of me when I was passed out. I knew what I was doing. But now, knowing what you know about me, I don’t want you to be overwhelmed by what it all might mean.”
She nods in understanding. “That’s the thing. I’m still not sure what it all might mean. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of making up the rules as we go along. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or—hell—even today. For all we know, that house might fall on us too.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say vehemently.
“That’s very kind and very noble of you, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We still have a lot of hours of driving, and then a lot to do in Pennsylvania, I suspect.”
“Probably.”
“What are you going to do if they don’t believe you?”
“Try my best to convince them, I guess. And if that doesn’t work, when the time comes, I’ll grab the husband and you grab the wife, and we’ll physically drag them out of that house before it falls on top of them.”
Rebecca looks amazed at the forthrightness of my suggestion. “Jesus, can we do that?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“But isn’t that … I don’t know … altering history or something?”
“You watch too many movies,” I tell her. “This is why I’m there, to alter history before it happens. Okay, I’ll grant you that if I ever go back in time and change something, then I’ve probably broken the rules. But barring that, I think we’re okay.” I see an uneasy look on her face. “What’s the matter? Not up for manhandling anybody today?”
“I just wasn’t expecting it. I can manhandle. Pinned you pretty good last night,” she reminds me.
“That you did.”
As morning turns to afternoon, I become aware of the blue Honda sedan. It has been in the lane behind me for several miles, staying about four car lengths back, and staying in whichever lane I choose. I can see a single figure in the car, most likely male, but can’t get a good look at him. I keep an eye on him without being too obvious about it; I don’t want to worry Rebecca. Under ordinary circumstances, I would think nothing of it, but with everything that’s happened in the past three days, nothing is ordinary. I need to lose him without causing a fuss.
“You getting hungry?” I ask Rebecca casually.
“Yeah, I could eat,” she replies. “Drive-thru?”
“No, we’re making good time. There are some restaurants at the next exit. Let’s pick one and sit down like civilized people. What do you say?”
“I have no objection to civilized.”
“Great.”
I get off at the next exit without signaling. A check of my rearview mirror makes my heart speed up. The blue Honda is getting off as well. Man, it sucks being right sometimes. I still don’t want to worry Rebecca. I’ll proceed as planned to a restaurant, and if there’s going to be a confrontation, it’ll be out in the open.
I turn right, and as expected, the Honda turns right after me. “Any preference about where we go?” I ask.
“You pick,” she says. “I picked yesterday.”
I continue for about four blocks, giving the Honda a chance to prove me wrong by stopping at a gas station. He doesn’t; he just keeps going, either unaware or utterly unconcerned that I’m on to him. I stifle any fear I’m feeling and choose a destination—a Denny’s on the left side of the road. I signal this time and get into the left-turn lane, discreetly watching the driver of the Honda do the same thing. It is to be an epic showdown at Denny’s; not the stuff of legend, but it’ll do.
I choose a parking spot near the building and brace myself mentally for what’s to come. At this point, I can’t keep Rebecca in the dark anymore. “We may have trouble,” I say to her quietly.
Worry overtakes her expression. “What? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to take care of it. Whatever happens, I want you to stay safe. Come on, let’s go.”
She looks like she has a thousand questions, but there’s no time. We put the top up, get out of the car, and lock it. By now, the Honda is parked and its driver has gotten out as well. I don’t recognize him. White male, thirties or forties, dressed kind of business casual. I don’t see an obvious weapon on him, but all I can do is watch him out of the corner of my eye. It’s time to make a decision. The restaurant is crowded; there are families inside. Forcing this confrontation in there could be dangerous. It’ll have to be outside, but in view of the building, in view of the road. I’ll go almost as far as the door. It’s time. It’s time. It’s time.
We step away from the Sebring and make our way to the building entrance. Rebecca is just in front of me. She gets to the door and opens it for me, but I hesitate. Our pursuer is just a few steps behind, and it’s time to let him catch up. It has to be quick, and it has to be now.
Everything happens in a flash, a blur of motion. The man is a single step behind me now, and I turn. With coordination I didn’t realize I have, I grab him by the lapels of his shirt and push him hard against the brick wall just to the left of the glass doors to the restaurant. He is taken by surprise and doesn’t have time to put up a fight. His body hits the wall, and I am instantly in his face, demanding, “What do you think you’re doing?”
His answer is amazingly calm, given the circumstances. “Minding my own business. You should try it.”
I don’t share his calm as I continue my interrogation, to the horror of Rebecca, who can only look on in stunned silence. “Cut the shit. I know you’ve been following us for miles. Why? What do you want?”
Now growing tired of this, he moves swiftly, grabbing my wrists in a flash and holding them tightly. He makes no move away from the wall, but I realize to my embarrassment and fear that he is now control of the altercation. “I want lunch,” he says, still with that aggravating aplomb. “You’re the ones in the convertible?”
“That’s right. You followed behind us, you got off where we got off, and now you’re here. I want answers!”
“I was using you as bear bait.”
In response to my confused look, he explains, “You were driving fifteen over the limit, so I figured you had a radar detector. I wanted to speed without getting caught, so I paced you. Then I felt like lunch, so I came here.”
“So … you’re not following us?”
“No.”
“So I just assaulted an innocent person?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
I have to ask. “How can you be so calm about it?”
“Buddy, I’m a bail bondsman. First thing they teach us is to keep your head when a crazy person comes at you.”
“Yeah, about that …”
“So I figured I’d hear what you had to say, and then rip your heart out if it needed ripping out.” He releases my wrists and I take a step back.
“Look, I’m really sorry. I …” I pull twenty dollars out of my pocket. “Let me at least buy you lunch.”
“Okay.” He takes the twenty from me. “I think you’ll understand if I ask you and your friend to eat
somewhere else.”
“Of course. Again, I’m very sorry. I overreacted, and I’m very grateful to you for being so forgiving, and not … doing the heart-ripping thing you talked about.”
“Look, pal, I don’t know what trouble you’re in, and I don’t want to know. I’ve been in this business a lot of years, and I’ve seen some shit. You can imagine. I know that things aren’t always what they look like. Just don’t be too quick to jump on somebody because you think he’s your enemy. And don’t be too quick to trust somebody because you think he’s your friend. All right?”
“Thank you,” I say humbly.
“You folks be careful.” He looks over at Rebecca, giving her a look that seems to me to say especially you. She smiles apologetically at him as he enters the restaurant. At this point, I am aware that patrons inside the Denny’s are looking at me. It’s time to leave here. I get back in the car, and Rebecca follows silently. Without a word spoken, I start the car and get us out of this town, back onto the interstate, heading north.
Five full minutes pass with both of us staring ahead at the road, neither able to speak a word to start the very necessary conversation. Finally, she finds the words and the courage, and a question emerges, quietly and without accusation. “What happened back there?”
I am ashamed, so ashamed I can barely speak of it. Though she saw every moment of it, I still want to hide it from her, pretend it didn’t happen, anything. “I made a mistake,” is all I can say.
“You thought he was following us?” she asks. I nod. “So why did you want to confront him like that? He could have killed you.”
“I know that now. But back there, all I could think was that he could have killed you, and I couldn’t let him do that.”
“You were ready to risk your own life for mine? Why? Why would you do that?”
“I don’t … Please don’t make me answer that, because I don’t have an answer. I just knew I had to protect you.”
“Tristan, I don’t want you getting hurt over me. Please promise me you won’t take risks like that again.”
