I pull over to the side of the road and shut off the car. Then I just sit there. It’s dark, and I’m tired, and I’m on the side of a road I’m pretty sure shouldn’t even exist anymore. It’s not even a highway. It’s just some side road I thought would be faster and have less traffic.
Lucky me.
Always making the smart choices.
A quick glance at my cell phone confirms what I already suspected: that I have no towers. I can’t call for a tow. I can’t do anything right now but sleep in my car or walk to the next exit. Something tells me it’s not safe to sleep on the side of an empty road in the middle of nowhere, though, so my choice is easy.
Walking it is.
Finally, I get out of the car and open the hood. More smoke billows around me, but I try to ignore it as I prop the hood of the car open. I’m going to be making a journey on foot, and I’m hoping that if I make it obvious the car broke down, the cops won’t give me a ticket for illegal parking before I can get a tow.
I take my backpack and pull it on. I also grab my wallet, keys, and phone. Then I lock up my car and start walking. There’s other stuff in my car, of course. There are plenty of things people can take and resell, but I don’t really care about any of that. Right now I just care about moving forward, about reaching my destination, wherever that might be.
I’m going to need to call Hope as soon as I can to let her know I won’t be making it in to see her, but I think she’ll understand, and I think everything will be okay. I hope everything will be okay. I need everything to be okay.
I start walking.
As I move through the da
rkness, I realize I should feel afraid, but I just feel annoyed. Why can’t a single thing go right for me this week? Hell, why can’t a single thing go right for me in my entire life? Do I really deserve this? Have I really been such a terrible person that I deserve to have a million and nine things go wrong for me?
I want to say I’m not.
I want to say I’m not that bad and I don’t deserve it, but you never know.
Maybe I was a really terrible child or something and this is Karma’s way of getting back at me.
As I trudge along the side of the highway, I wonder how long it’s going to take to actually get my car fixed. Realistically, Honeypot is an hour away by car. I can’t afford to have my car towed there and fixed in Honeypot. I’m sure Hope would spot me the money, but I don’t want to be a burden. Asking for help is already hard for me. Asking her to pay for a tow? I won’t do that.
No, there’s got to be a town closer than that. I’m sure there are several rink-a-dink little places here and there that have mechanics. The biggest problem right now is that I didn’t take the highway. It’s at least half a mile to my left and right now, I’m just going straight. I’m just going to keep moving. I’m just going to keep walking until I find something, anything, anywhere.
I reach an intersection and I take note of the street names so that when I do find a mechanic, I can tell him exactly where the car is. It’s dark, but the stars are so bright I can see where I’m going.
“You don’t get views like this in the city,” I mutter, and keep walking. It’s strange to think how much my life has changed in the last week. It’s strange to think that a week ago, I was just a normal person living a normal life. I had a normal boyfriend and a normal job and a normal future.
And then Jeremy decided I wasn’t worth protecting.
He decided I wasn’t worth fighting for.
I wonder how people survive break-ups and still move on to find someone new. Isn’t it strange? I suppose it’s kind of like how women go through childbirth, but then continue on to have another child. It hurts, but it’s worth it. The pain is awful, but soon the memory fades, even just a little.
In a month, will I still feel so broken?
In a year, will I still feel so sad?
I’m still crying as I walk and now, strangely, I have the feeling I’m being watched. I wasn’t worried before, but now I’m starting to get a little nervous. This is Colorado, after all. It’s known for wild animals. Hope told me she saw a lot of wild creatures when she first arrived. Hell, she even saw a bear. Like, up close.
I shiver as I think about running into a bear out here alone. I’m not terribly out of shape, but I don’t think I’d be able to out-run a bear. Even if I wasn’t completely tired and worn out from my week, from the drive, I don’t know if I could face a bear. I’d probably faint from fear.
“There’s nothing out here,” I say aloud. I stop walking and turn in a circle, searching the darkness. There are fields on either side of the road. One of them has a lot of trees, but they’re spaced far enough apart that nothing is hiding. I would be able to see a bear.
I think.
There’s nothing.
“You’re overreacting,” I say to myself. “There’s nothing here, Amy. Just focus. What do you need to do?”
I start moving again as I run through a mental checklist and continue talking to myself. It’s a nervous habit. Ever since I was little, I’ve talked to myself when I’m scared or overwhelmed. It’s probably really silly, probably really dumb, but it’s always made me feel like I could handle things.