A Destined Death (16 page)

“That’s the plan. I’ve never been drunk before,” I declared, grabbing the stick out of his hand. “I’ve never played pool before either.”

“Yer shittin’ me?”

“Nope. This is my first time in a bar too.”

With a laugh, he turned to a group of similarly dressed men near the pool tables. “Looks like we got ourselves a virgin here boys.”

They all laughed, hooted, and hollered playfully.

“Yep,” I declared, gulping down another shot. “It’s time to start living!”

I giggled foolishly while Joe taught me how to play pool. It took several tries but eventually I made a ball into a pocket that I had actually aimed for. “What else?” I asked anxiously, laying the stick across the table.

Joe's forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean, what else?”

“What else do you do in bars?”

“Oh, darts. Don’t worry, we’ll get you broke in right tonight. I actually feel sort of…honored,” he said with a chuckle.

He taught me how to play darts and foosball before he danced with me for my first dance in a bar. I leaned against him during the slow song. I felt guilty for pretending he was Draven but when I closed my eyes, it felt so much better to be back in his arms even after what he asked.

It seemed like the next minute, the wind whipped my clothing at eighty miles per hour. I knew that because the gauge around the black leather jacket told me so. He slowed down when I tightened my grip around his waist. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Joe called to me. He pulled off to the side of the road. When the motorcycle came to a stop, he lifted the visor up on his helmet and turned toward me. “We’re almost there.”

After mocking his movement with the helmet I wore, I stared at him, completely disorientated by my situation. “Almost where?”

“You said you wanted to go to Valley Fair.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did,” he concluded with a frown. “Don’t you remember?”

I calmed slightly when I realized my backpack hung on my shoulders. “Well, why did I want to go there?”

He thought for a minute before responding. “To live a little, you said.”

“That’s right. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before either. Thanks for that.”

“No problem.” He yanked down the shield on his helmet, turned around, and the bike took off again.

The fair had just opened when we arrived. Joe followed me everywhere and rode the rides with me. Under his tough, biker exterior, I found a fun guy who laughed, made jokes, and I enjoyed his company.

We rode one the rollercoasters where a heavy metal bar fastened each of us in. I had a blast until we reached the highest point and the car flipped upside down. The bar holding me released, and my hands slipped off it before I started to fall.

My whole life flashed before my eyes––mostly images of Draven––before Joe caught my arm in a strong grip. The horrified look on his face matched my own but he held on until the car tipped again and I was able to climb inside.

For the last minute of the ride, I hugged Joe in a death grip and thanked him repeatedly. My heart didn’t stop pounding until the car finally came to a stop. Even then, I felt badly shaken. The whole event happened so fast it seemed surreal in my mind.

Joe ranted about my bar to the people running the ride. It worked fine when they checked it. They shut down the ride and promised to investigate it further. I couldn’t help but feel like what happened was more than faulty machinery. Maybe death really did want me.

Anxious to be alone to think, I said goodbye to Joe at the gates. He refused to leave me there so I lied and swore to him I had a ride home. When he finally drove away, I walked out of the park and just kept walking.

For the first time, I seriously considered Draven’s premonition that I would die young. My mind wandered through past events, the kids in the underpass, the fall off the ladder. Why hadn’t I taken him seriously then? Had I taken him for granted? Had I just assumed he’d be there to protect me? Unsure of my true fate, I decided to create and fulfill a bucket list while I still could. I would travel the world and have some fun before I died, and I would write my novel.

When a trucker stopped beside me, I jumped into the cab. “Where you headed?”

The older man had a white beard and mustache, reminding me of my grandfather. “The east coast.”

“I’ve never been to the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Well, then,” he said. “It looks like this is your lucky week. Name’s Gene.”

I shook his hand when he reached over to me. “Hi, I’m Elizabeth.”

“So what are you running away from, Elizabeth? Boyfriend? Parents?”

“Oh, I’m not running,” I assured him. “I’m living.”

He let out a chuckle. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Gene treated me like I was his own granddaughter, and he seemed to appreciate the company. He told me so many interesting stories about his life as a trucker that my head spun. I took notes furiously, trying to capture the genuine feelings he used with his words that made them so powerful.

When we stopped at a truck stop the following morning, he offered me the bunk in the back of the cab but I declined the offer. Instead, I decided to go into the diner to start my bucket list.

“Your blood sugar’s getting low, you need to eat.”
I smiled, pretending Draven was talking to me. The tiny flutter in my heart didn’t accompany his words so I knew he wasn’t really talking to me.

A loud horn pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a semi sliding toward me with alarming speed. I stood in the middle of its path, I realized before I took my last breath. 

A hand quickly pulled me to the front of the building, and the truck skidded past, the accident avoided. Bending over, I panted and tried to clear my head. I’d almost died again.
Son of a bitch!
What in the hell was wrong with me?

“Are you all right?” A pretty woman gazed down at me with the same warm, sympathetic smile I’d seen on Joe. She wore jeans and a Harley T-shirt and she spoke with a strong southern accent. “You look a little lost.”

I nodded uneasily and thanked her before I went inside, kicking myself for not being more careful. I made myself eat a real breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast while I watched the woman out the window. She strode directly to Gene’s truck where the two had a conversation. They grinned at each other like two old friends.

A few minutes later, the woman stood by my table. “Do you need a ride, honey?”

“No thank you, ma’am. I’m riding with Gene to the coast.”

“I know,” she said, tossing back a strand of her long, golden red hair. “Gene thought maybe you’d come to your senses and go back home if I offered.”

I shook my head. “I’m not ready.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, sliding into the booth across from me.

“I’m Elizabeth.”

“Heather.”

After a quick handshake, I looked directly into her makeup laden eyes. “Heather, if you could do anything, what would you do? What would really make you feel like you were living?”

A wistful expression danced across her face. “If I could do anything, I’d go and see the Statue of Liberty. I’d travel, meet people, see what the world is really about, I guess.” She paused to shrug. “I guess that’s living to me. That’s why I became a truck driver. I still haven’t made it to see Miss Liberty though.”

“Do you want me to send you pictures?”

Her eyes widened in delight. “I’m half-tempted to go with you now, but yeah,” she said, smiling thoughtfully. “I’d really like that. You’re all right, Elizabeth.”

After getting her address, I slept in the reclined seat of the semi and awoke on the road with Gene. Bright-eyed and smiling, he seemed less apprehensive about me being with him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good actually. I think I was so tired I could have slept through anything.”

“You did too,” he said with a laugh. “You missed a whole state.”

“Sorry.” I took a swig out of my water bottle and then poured some onto a napkin to dab my face.

“You looked like you needed the sleep. Listen, I have to make a stop at a department store…I wouldn’t mind buying you an extra change of clothes. I think you’ll feel a whole lot better after you’ve cleaned up.”

I looked down at my three-day-old dress that I’d thought would make Draven jealous. The memory made me sad, but I tried to hide it. “I have clothes and money.”
Lots of money.
“I guess I just didn’t think about changing. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just thought you looked a little down, that’s all.”

“I’m fine. You don’t really need to stop, do you?”

“Oh yes I do,” he argued. “I ran out of deodorant, and I can’t be riding around with someone as pretty as you and smellin’ like the road.”

I smiled, appreciating his kindness.

I bought a digital camera at the department store and stopped at the bank to withdraw some cash. At the following truck stop, I showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I would have felt great too, had it not been for the gaping empty hole that remained in my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about Draven or how much I missed him. I couldn’t go back though. Not after what he’d asked.

I hid a check for a thousand dollars under Gene’s pillow in the back of the cab before he dropped me off on the Virginia coast. Again, I had to insist that I had a way home, making up some story that my friend lived there. I didn’t like lying but I figured that was a part of living in the real world. I sat on the beach until the sunbathers all went home and eventually it turned dark.

The huge moon hovered above the water like a balloon, and the waves rushed onto the shore filling the salty air with a peaceful sound. Briefly, I thought about making a wish so Draven could share the beautiful scene with me.

I quickly shook away the thought. I needed to accept the fact that love just wasn’t in the cards for us.

I woke up on the beach at dawn, grabbing my arms for warmth. The temperature had dropped considerably, and I felt frozen so I made my way to the shops on the other side of the beach. Huddled in a ball, I waited for them to open and bought a black hoody and some shades. Once warm, I picked a table at a sidewalk café and pulled out my notebook and pen to work on my novel.

I had trouble focusing on the paper because my mind decided on its own to mourn my loss. Even though I found Draven mysterious, magical, and immortal, I’d always hoped for love. Now that I saw that as impossible, I felt miserable as I settled on a tragedy for my life.

The heat returned by noon, and I pulled up my hood to keep the sun off. A teenager with a large sketchpad sat down next to me. The blond didn’t say anything at first. He just kept peeking over at me, his blue eyes full of life. His bright yellow T-shirt read:
Just do it!

I offered him a smile. “Hi. I’m Elizabeth.”

“Hi,” he shot, seeming both surprised and nervous. “Can…can I draw you? I mean, you’ve been sitting here for a long time but if you have to go now, that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I said, pulling my hood down. “What do you want me to do?”

“No, you can put your hood back up.” He opened his pad and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. “I really wanted to draw you just the way you were before I sat down.”

I pulled the hood back up, trying to remember what I was doing before he sat down. “How’s this?”

“That’s good. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Alex.”

After fifteen minutes of him drawing intently in silence, I said, “I’ve never been drawn before. That’s really cool. Thanks.”

He laughed. “It’s kind of a creepy request, isn’t it? I work in this little shop,” he said, pointing to an ice cream place. “When I saw you sitting here for so long, I took the rest of the day off. I’m an art student, and I don’t get a lot of volunteers.” He shrugged. “And besides, you looked lonely.”

I sighed inwardly at the reminder.

“That’s the look,” he said excitedly. “That’s the one I wanted to draw.”

It wasn’t hard at all to hold the expression. All I had to do was think of my life without Draven.

Alex continued to draw, glancing at my bag occasionally. “So where are you headed?”

“New York.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How are you getting there?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a good plan,” he teased.

I didn’t want to mention that I’d wasted too much time with plans so I smiled. “What do you suggest?”

“Bus. I can take you to the station when I finish.”

“All right. Thank you, Alex.”

When he finished, he smiled proudly and handed me the pad. “You’re really beautiful,” he said, blushing.

I laughed instead of crying like I wanted to do when I looked at the drawing. He’d captured my feelings perfectly, and I found the image disturbing. I returned it to him and thanked him by taking a picture of the artist with his art, and then he drove me to the bus station and wished me luck.