"Nothing Mom." I said, standing up. "I think I'm gonna hit the rack."
I was halfway up the stairs when it hit me. I realized why Darren Maxwell's name bothered me so much. He had the same initials as David Mitchell. The same amount of syllables in his name. I wondered if they looked alike. I wondered if I was just being paranoid, if the initials and the sports history were just a meaningless coincidence. Every time I started to convince myself that paranoia was all it was I would think about Beirut and about Nina sitting alone in the cafeteria, reading a book before she went off, alone, to medical school.
"Jesus, this is creepy." I muttered.
I lay in bed but it was a long time before I got to sleep.
I tried to call Nina twice over the weekend. The first time her mother not so politely told me that Nina did not wish to speak to me. The second time her Dad told me he would call the cops if I called there again. On Monday at school I tried to talk to her in class.
"I told you to leave me alone." She said quietly but coldly, in a voice that did not promise the opening of negotiations.
I left her alone.
Julie picked me up once again, for what I planned to be the last time. Though I wanted a job at central supply as much as anyone, I could not ride to work with her anymore. I didn't know if I was ever going to be able to bring Nina around again but it certainly wouldn't help for her to see me driving off every afternoon with Julie. I planned to tell her on the way to the hospital that this would be the last ride. But before I could, she blindsided me.
She was bubbly and exuberant as I climbed into the car and she roared off with much more enthusiasm than she usually displayed.
"You're in a happy mood today." I commented, trying to think of an opening, or closing line.
"Yep." She bubbled happily. "I sure am. You know why?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Look." She said, and waggled her left hand before my face.
I blinked in confusion, not following her. "Your hand." I said dryly. "What about it?"
"Notice anything missing?" She smiled, waggling her fingers.
And suddenly I did. The diamond engagement ring that she'd been so proud of, that she'd annoyed the living shit out of every member of the class with, was no longer on her ring finger. "Your ring." I said hollowly, knowing what the significance of it's absence had to be.
"Yep." She nodded, dropping the hand into my lap, very near my crotch. "I'm free. Absolutely free. I gave it back to him on Saturday night and told him I didn't want to marry him or see him anymore."
I took a deep breath. "Why did you do that?" I asked slowly.
"Because I don't want to see him anymore." She told me. She gave my leg a squeeze. "I've found someone else."
She'd found someone else? Oh shit. "And who might that be?" I braced myself.
She gave me a look that conveyed the message that she thought I was teasing her. "You, you hoser." She smiled. "What we experienced the other night was just, just incredible, wasn't it? I knew right then we had something special going. Didn't you just feel the electricity?"
"Oh God." I couldn't help but mutter. Could this week get any worse?
"Hey," She said, "Are your parents gone? I was thinking maybe we could cut ROP today and go over to your place." Her hand trailed upward until it was firmly in my crotch. "Spend the afternoon together?"
Slowly, patiently, I picked up her hand from my lap and put it back in hers.
"Julie." I started, and then was unable to think of anything to say.
"What?" She said, confused by my rejection of her hand and the serious tone of my voice.
I looked at the ceiling of the car for a moment, trying to think. Why the hell was she doing this to me? Didn't she understand THE RULES? She was supposed to enjoy our session and leave it at that. She wasn't supposed to break up with her fucking fiance because of it. She wasn't supposed to be feeling electricity or any of that romance novel crap. I had no experience with this sort of thing.
"Sweetie," She said, concerned. "What's wrong?"
Sweetie? Oh Christ. This was getting way out of hand.
"Look Julie." I said patiently. "I'm not your sweetie. I'm just Bill. Bill from class. We had a little fun together the other day, something we probably shouldn't have done, but I never meant for it to go any further than that. I never meant for you to break up with your fiance over it."
Her face turned deadly serious. "What are you saying?" She asked.
What was I saying? Hadn't I just said it? "What I'm saying," I told her carefully. "Is that I am not looking for a relationship with you. We just had a day of fun together."
"You don't want to go out with me?" She whispered, her tone conveying danger just under the surface.
"No." I said. "What happened between us just kind of happened. I didn't intend for it to go any further than that. Can't we just be friends?"
"Friends?" She nearly spat. "It sounds to me like you think I'm some sort of slut."
"No, no!" I protested. "That's not…"
"You take me over to your place and fuck me and you just want to end it like that? That's how guys treat sluts!"
"But…"
"I'm not no fuckin slut!" She screamed at me. "Did you think I was one? Did you think you were just gonna fuck me and then we'd forget about it the next day? How could you think that? I'm a Catholic Goddamit. I go to fucking church! Nobody treats me like a fuckin slut!"
"You're not a slut Julie." I protested. "All I was trying to say…"
She suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing her car to a screeching, smoking halt in the middle of one of Spokane's major arteries. I heard the screech of other brakes behind us as several cars nearly rear-ended her.
"Julie, Jesus, what are…"
"Get the fuck out of my car you asshole!" She screamed at me. "Get your fuckin ass out NOW! I don't ever want to see your fucked-up, lying face again!"
"Let's talk about…"
"GET OUT!" She screamed and I saw murder in her eyes.
I unsnapped my seatbelt, opened the door, and got out. Before I could close the door she peeled away, ripping it out of my hand, leaving me standing in the middle of the street in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. I looked around uncomfortably at the angry faces of the motorists whose progress I was impeding and I hurried to the curb.
"I think I could have handled that better." I muttered to myself.
I took a quick look around me, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. I was in front of a liquor store and three blacks were hanging out in front of it. They were in their early twenties or late teens and looked like gang members based on their garb. They were smoking cigarettes and drinking from forty-ounce cans of beer. They eyed me with amusement.
"Homey," One of them said to me sympathetically. "That was one pissed off bitch."
"Yep." Another agreed. "I heard her rap all the way over here. I was you Homey, I'd stay away from that shit."
"Sure thing." The other one put in. "Bitch done dropped your ass off in the hood. You'd a been good as dead she'd a done that shit at night. Lucky for you it's day, you only half as good as dead 'round here now."
They all laughed at that, shaking their heads at my predicament. I felt no fear from them. I'd worked for years in 'the hood' and had gotten good at reading the intentions of the inhabitants of it. Their jostling of me was for their own amusement. They meant me no harm. However, there were others around that would mean me some harm if I encountered them. I was no longer in possession of the safety my uniform provided or the portable radio that I'd once carried here that could summon every cop within five square miles in less than two minutes. I was in a delicate situation.
"Yeah." I said to them. "I do seem to be out of my element here, don't I?"
This cracked them up again. "You ain't shittin." One of them said.
"The bus stop around here somewhere?" I asked.