“When Peter was still here, he just rewrote everything that Ned turned in,” she says confidentially. “Adrianne’s been doing it lately. You having a good first day?”I try to walk back to the Motel 6 from the Herald-Trumpet. It’s only seven o’clock when I leave, and even though it’s been dark for a while, a small town in the early evening can’t be that dangerous and I really, really need the walk.
I rewrote Ned’s awful article. I briefly discussed my concerns with Edmund, who brushed them off and told me that Ned was a “great guy” who “took some getting used to.” I finalized tomorrow’s Metro section, re-edited everything three times, and went over every single mark the proofreader made.
It’s good. It’s as good as I can make it, at least, and that’s what I tell myself as I walk down the utterly empty Main Street between buildings so vacated they seem like they’ve never had people in them, even once.
I can make it. Quitting is for losers. I won’t let them get to me. I can be stronger than this, more determined. I can rise above an awful workplace and make something good of this time in my life.
We’d be eating dinner right now. Hedwig would be there and he’d be telling me about the day’s good forest gossip and I’d be talking about whatever Wikipedia research hole I went down that day, or maybe making him look at videos of cats riding Roombas because I’m basically positive Levi’s never seen a video of a cat riding a Roomba—
And there it is, I’m crying again. It’s freezing and this town is empty and I’m crying while trying desperately not to because I’m a little afraid that my tears will freeze to my face. At least today I’m wearing pants.
Then, suddenly, I realize I’m at the end of Main Street, where it turns into a two-lane road with no sidewalk and no shoulder that stretches off into the dark, under the freeway and toward the two motels on the other side.
I fight the urge to scream — I just wanted to take a walk on this stupid day is that so much to ask?! — then pull out my phone and request a rideshare.
The app tells me it’ll be here in twenty-five minutes.Fifteen minutes later, I’m still standing there when a white hatchback suddenly slams on its brakes right in front of me, then speeds up only to slow down a hundred feet away at the nearest open parking spot along Main Street.
I pretend not to notice it, but of course I notice it. I’m a woman alone on a nearly-empty street at night. I notice everything.
I notice when a man gets out of the car, backlit by the streetlamps, and starts walking toward me. I notice that he seems completely locked in on me and doesn’t turn his head even once to look into the dark store windows or at the cars driving along down Main Street.
I’m about to get murdered, I think to myself, staring dead ahead at nothing, determined not to look at him. If I look at him, I might look scared, and I can’t afford that.
This has been such a stupid day, of course I’m about to get murdered.
I decide that, if he gets too close, the best course of action is to start shouting at him, and if he doesn’t leave, the next thing to do is run into the street. If I run into the street, someone will almost definitely notice me.
He keeps walking. He gets closer. I realize that I probably should have run at least ten seconds ago, because now my heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty and my feet are freezing and I’m keenly aware of every single noise within a one-mile radius.
And then finally he’s too close, and I really wish my ride would hurry up but Kelly in the blue Civic is still not here, so I take a deep breath and I turn to face him and I shout, “FUCK O—"
I stop mid-off, my mouth still open, because now that he’s finally close enough for me to see and I’m finally actually looking at him I’m off-balance in a way that’s more metaphysical then physical, like reality’s just flopped on its side.
“…Levi?” I finish in a whisper.Chapter FortyLevi“I can fuck off if you’d like,” I offer.
I thought about what to say the whole way here: the flight from Roanoke to Philadelphia, Philly to Chicago, Chicago to Sioux Falls, and then the drive from Sioux Falls to Bluff City. I thought about it all that time and I came up with a thousand possibilities.
I can fuck off if you’d like wasn’t one of them, but June has always surprised me.
“I’d rather talk, though,” I say, and she shakes her head slightly, like she’s dazed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Actually, I assumed you’d recognize me.”