Jason and Alex stayed in a beautiful hotel; Alex relaxed in an extra large bathtub while Jason rubbed her back, calming her. She’d never met someone quite so mean in her life. The ‘apology’ aside, Jason’s mother was rotten to the core. In the morning they went home, both unwilling to forgive Anne for her behavior.
Anne went home to the empty house, cold and devoid of emotion. She wasn’t sure why she’d made such a scene and said all those horrible things. She didn’t expect Jason to come home that night, or call her in the morning. She doubted he’d ever forgive her. He wasn’t prone to forgiveness. Anne cried, alone, with no one to comfort her, because she didn’t deserve anyone. She fell asleep in a heap on the living room floor, too dejected to climb upstairs and get in bed. She was only trying to protect Jason from himself.
Chapter Five
Anne spent what was left of the weekend alternating from anger to regret. She couldn’t believe that Jason would let his girlfriend say such terrible things to her, but deep down she knew
that she’d been awful to make a
scene as well. She called Michael and Rose, looking for sympathy, but neither would answer their phones. Maybe they were just busy, but Anne had a feeling that everyone was upset with her behavior. The kids always seemed to side against her whenever there was some sort of disagreement.
She went to work on Monday, but had no patience for her secretarial duties. She didn’t like her job that much on a good day, bad days made it nearly unbearable. She filed paperwork with a vengeance, each paper slamming into the folder more firmly than the previous. She worked late, ignoring her coworkers as they slowly trickled out of the office. It was the beginning of November, and everyone was starting to prepare for Christmas. One of the office workers had even brought in little Frosty and Santa window clings to decorate around the front windows. Anne felt like scrooge because the urge to tear down the cheery little faces and put them in the paper shredder was almost too great to ignore.
Anne didn’t realize that it was nearly seven until her boss came back in the office, grabbing her forgotten purse. She looked at Anne in surprise as she walked into the office, insisting that Anne go home for the night. Anne, exhausted, walked to her car in mind numbing fatigue. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep when she got home, she had too much on her mind, but there wasn’t much else for her to do; she literally had nowhere else to go. She didn’t have friends anymore. There were a few women she knew and met up with on occasion, but she wasn’t close to them. She’d driven her good friends off sometime around the second or third year after the divorce. She could go to the mall or WalMart, but it was always embarrassing for her to go to the store late in the evening and wander through the aisles for an hour or two alone; the clerks all knew her and gave her questioning looks. She’d even tried going to a bar alone last year, but she’d barely walked in the door before realizing that she didn’t really fit in with the bar hopping crowd. Anne finally climbed in the car and started home, depressed and lonely.
She was halfway home when the deer hit the side of her car. She hadn’t even seen its eyes glare from the side of the road. Her senses, dulled from fatigue and stress, failed her momentarily, while the impact sent pain shooting through her left side. She screamed as her car careened, doing a 180. She tried to control the spin, but the roads were slick and she couldn’t slow down. It seemed like she spun forever before landing in the ditch on the right side of the road. Anne sat, stunned. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do at first. She’d never hit a deer in her life. She turned off the engine, though it seemed to be running fine. Anne pulled on the door handle, but the door refused to budge. She pushed harder, but she couldn’t break it free. She had a moment of panic before unhooking her seat belt to crawl to the passenger side door. She squeezed past the steering wheel and pushed at the door. It didn’t open. No surprise; she’d forgotten to use the handle in her panic. Anne made herself breathe more slowly.
Calm down
she told herself. She pulled on the handle and pushed at the door. It opened with ease. She climbed from her car, stepping down into the watery ditch.
Anne’s head ached and it was difficult for her to move the left side of her body. She barely noticed as icy water seeped through her shoes and slacks, soaking her legs up to her knees as she climbed out of the ditch to the road. She groaned morosely when she realized that it was too dark for anyone to see her or the car. She stumbled back down to the car, slipping and sliding the entire way to turn on the four ways. She tried to reach the flares in the trunk, but she wasn’t able to get around the car without practically climbing a tree. Since she was already wet and injured, she wasn’t willing to attempt the feat if it wasn’t absolutely necessary; she was hoping someone would drive by soon.
Anne scurried back up the ditch to the road when she heard the sound of a vehicle coming closer. She couldn’t tell what direction the car was coming from and in her haste to receive help; she bounded onto the road in a rush. The truck, it turned out, was heading directly for her. She actually stepped into the road, waving her arms frantically until the driver slowed down, pulling over about ten feet behind her. When she saw the driver climb down from the cab she almost regretted hailing him down for he was a formidable man indeed. He stood at least six feet tall, broad shouldered, and burly. He had a gnarled beard covering his face. The only feature she could discern from his visage was his faded dark eyes. She couldn’t make out the color, dark brown or black maybe. He looked gruff in his heavy flannel jacket, unzipped to show a filthy work shirt of some kind. His pants were caked with an unusual muddy substance that seemed clumped and dried onto the legs, and thick black leather gloves covered his immense hands.
“Thank you for stopping,” Anne said nervously. “I hit a deer,” Anne indicated her car in the ditch, as if the man couldn’t see it from where he stood, about five feet away from her. She was shivering from cold and fear as she said, “do you think you could pull me out, or call the police for me?” It occurred to her that she was completely at his mercy. He could choose to help her or hurt her and no one would ever know. At this particular point in her life she doubted any of the kids would notice she was missing, and her work would probably assume she was flexing her time in the morning to make up for working late. She would be missing for hours or days before anyone called the authorities.
The man looked from her to the car. He hadn’t said a word since he’d stopped. Anne jumped when he finally spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. “Get in my truck. You’ll catch yer death standing out here, soaking wet, in this cold.” He didn’t bother watching to see that she did as he bid, but started looking over her car.
Anne didn’t see where she had much choice but to obey the man. She was freezing. Her side hurt, she couldn’t feel her feet, and there wasn’t another car in sight. She knew the closest house was probably a mile away, and she doubted she’d be able to walk that far in her present condition. Anne limped past the man as he surveyed her car. He seemed to be judging the best way to pull her out. Anne didn’t think it should be that difficult, he had a big truck; all he had to do was wrap a cable from her car to his truck and go. Anne struggled to climb into the cab. She’d twisted her ankle on her trip back down the ditch, and putting weight on it was difficult.
Maybe it’ll stay this way and I’ll lose weight
, Anne thought wryly, heaving herself into the truck.
Merle started hooking tow cables to the woman’s car, careful that he wouldn’t pull on anything that might come loose or break. He wasn’t going to stop when he saw her flashers from a mile or so back, but when she’d practically jumped in front of the truck he didn’t figure he had a choice. The damned woman was soaking wet. He knew she’d catch pneumonia if he didn’t help her. It was late, and this particular road seemed empty in the evenings; there would be no other cars. He knew he looked frightening. The look on her face when he walked towards her told him that; like she wasn’t entirely sure he was there to help. He’d had a rough day at work. The rain had turned the cement into mud, and he’d taken a bit of a spill on the front stoop. Merle finished hooking up the car and connected the cables to his truck. He climbed in next to the woman.
“Thank you,” she said, her teeth chattering, “I’m Anne.”
“Merle,” he growled. He started the truck. “I need your keys,” he told her. She seemed to jump.
“I think I left them in the ignition,” Anne said, reaching into her pockets, clearly disorientated.
Merle didn’t say a word. He climbed out of his truck and made his way carefully back down the gully, using the tow cable to help balance himself. He climbed in the car from the passenger side and threw it in neutral. He didn’t even bother trying the driver’s side. He’d noticed that the door was caved in while he attached the tow cables. He closed his eyes for a second, resting in her car before heading back up the ditch. He was tired. He didn’t want to help some random, disheveled woman. She was overweight, her hair was totally disarrayed, and she had mud and gunk covering her clothes, which were obviously not appropriate for the present weather. He sighed. Once he got her car out of the gully he could be on his way. Merle climbed back up the ditch carefully, and pulled himself into the truck. He slowly worked the car out of its position, trying to make certain he didn’t damage it any further. When the car was fully on the road he stopped and looked at Anne.
“I really appreciate this,” Anne said, taken aback by his silence. She wasn’t used to people not talking with her.
“No problem,” Merle said before climbing out and unhooking the two vehicles. Anne nearly fell as she jumped down from the truck, her ankle swollen and sore. “Are you okay?” Merle asked, watching her struggle to remain standing. He could tell she was gripping the door handle with all her might to keep herself upright. He wrapped up his tow cables as he waited for her answer.
“I think so. I just fell on my way out of the ditch and twisted my ankle pretty good,” Anne answered, leaning against the truck.
He watched Anne in some bemusement, not entirely sure what to do. He didn’t want to look at her injury, but he needed some assurance that she could drive herself home before he’d feel comfortable leaving the scene. “Let me see,” Merle said finally, resigning himself to the task. He didn’t really want to look at her ankle, but he’d stopped to help her, and it was obvious he wasn’t done yet. Merle opened the truck door and turned on the overhead light before he bent down, painfully aware of the ache in his own back. He’d offloaded the truck today because some of his workers didn’t make it in; he could already feel the strain; at least a pulled muscle. He carefully pulled up her pant leg. Her ankle was swollen and badly bruised. “You need to put some ice on this,” he said, touching it gently. He didn’t think anything was broken, but he wasn’t a doctor. “I don’t know if it’s broken or not,” he told her, pressing on it a bit more firmly. The color returned quickly. “Can you make it home?” he asked, beginning to prepare himself for the possibility of driving the woman home.
“I think so. It’s the left one. I can manage with my right one just fine,” Anne assured him. She thanked him again before hobbling to her car. “What about the deer?” she asked suddenly, turning back to him.
“What about it?”
“Is it dead?”
“Probably.”
“Is there anything we can do for it?”
“Eat it, maybe. How long ago did you hit it?”
“Not long. Maybe five to ten minutes before you came.”
“I’ll see what I can do. You get home and put some ice on that ankle and drink something hot,” Merle said, eager for the woman to leave. He’d make certain the deer was dead, and maybe, if the meat was good, he’d take it home.
“Can I pay you or anything?” Anne asked, almost to the car door.
“No, just don’t hit anything else tonight.” Merle waited for Anne to leave before he started looking for the deer. He was grateful for the quiet night as he scanned the darkness.