You are the only one who knows my real reason for swerving off the road, but having you know yet still not believe makes it rather pointless.
Do me a favor, humor me and read the story again, this time just pretend you believe me.
It all happened so quickly. I was changing the radio station and switching lanes to exit into town. I took a small glance to my left, and then one to the rearview mirror just to be sure.
When I glanced in the rearview, the boy was there, with an absolutely clear look of terror on his face.
His fear was tangible, and it made me shiver down to my core. He said nothing, he just looked out his window and darted his eyes back and forth rapidly. He was waiting for someone, or for something.
I got more scared that I should have, probably, and overcorrected to my left, and well, you know the rest.
Find it in the paper if you want the more accurate details, but I know you won’t because you don’t seem to think it was newsworthy. I hadn’t a scratch, I was fine, I was lucky, it was an accident, blah blah blah.
So I left it at that, just like you said.
I was fine, just my car wasn’t. I mean, I really thought I was fine at that point. So did the doctors.
When I got home later that night I decided it was probably wise to make an effort to spend more time with my roommate instead of doing my own thing all the time, like I had always said I would. I never really liked her too much, though I never really had a problem with her either.
I think we thought mutually of each other, and we also both wanted a comfortable living situation in which we could split the bills and not be romantically involved with a guy at this point in our lives.
That night was fine for once. Actually, that night was fantastic.
I forgot why we had become roommates in the first place over the last few years of living our own lives. She was hilarious. She was responsible yet goofy, and she made me feel like I was a college kid again. We laughed and watched stupid girl movies and drank too much wine. Way too much wine.
Really, that may have been my last good night. I wish that I could say that last bit of good was with you. Oh well.
Now here’s where it all gets very messy, and where you leave me, and where I lose it.
Waking up the next morning brought on two major shocks;
- My roommate had left. Packed up and left. You still think I scared her off, but I am telling you, we had a great night. She wasn’t scared, she wasn’t upset in any way. But, she left.
- All of my photos were gone. Again, you said she took them out of spite, but why would anybody want my 20+ canvas prints of leaves and family and other hippy bullshit that had nothing to do with them?
All in all, these things won’t prove to you why I’m dying, but, you should still see how they all fit in together in the end.
I spent that day making calls to as many people I knew from her life, which unfortunately wasn’t many. I remembered her parents had Facebook and I asked on there, they said they hadn’t heard from her since the day before. I called her most recent ex, and he hadn’t seen her around in over a month. And that was all I knew.
I decided not to worry about it too much, she would call soon…
Stay tuned for more next week!