Infinity + One
Page 40
I took his phone too. Then I counted out $2000 and laid it out next to his wallet, so he couldn’t miss it. I’d given him half of the money I had left. The motel had provided three sheets of stationary and a pen with the motel chain on it, as if people still sat and wrote long letters to their loved ones back home. Still, I was glad it was there, because I had a letter to write, and very little time to do it.
Meet me in St. Louis, Louis, Meet me at the fair. The words to the old song tripped through my brain. My high school had done the musical, Meet Me in St. Louis, the fall of my sophomore year. I’d tried out for the part played by Judy Garland and had every song memorized a week after auditions. I’d gotten the part but never ended up being in the play. Jackie Jacobson had ended up taking my place. The Nashville Forever audition had been the same day as opening night, so I’d had to back out. I put down my pen and left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. I was back on the interstate, reading road signs as I listened to Blake Shelton do his thing, hoping that Indianapolis was easy to find. I flipped down the radio and greeted my friend, Clyde.
“Bonnie Rae, turn around and get your ass back here with my Blazer.”
“I’m driving to St. Louis, Finn. I left you some money. You can rent a car and meet me there. Or . . . you can call the cops if you want to, but I think it might be a little hard to explain everything when I’m not there to back you up. They might think you have me tied up somewhere.”
The anger coming through the phone was palpable, and I winced and rushed ahead when he didn’t speak.
“I’m calling Bear. I’ll tell him to straighten things out with the police. Okay? I’m going to have him overnight me the things I need, just like I told you. But he needs an address to send them to, Clyde. Can you tell me where your dad lives? I’ll meet you there, with the Blazer. I’ll hand it over, get my things and be on my way. Deal?” My voice squeaked at the end, undermining my tough girl play.
Finn hung up on me.
I kept on driving, both hands on the wheel, holding on to the Blazer like it was my only friend in the world—a stolen best friend. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon but I felt like I’d been up for days, the pressures of the last 36 hours creating a time warp where time felt stretched and surreal, like I’d lived it all before and would live it again, over and over until I got it right. Whatever “right” was. “Right” felt like a very relative word at this point. Since the moment I’d walked off the stage in Boston, I couldn’t think of one single thing I could have done differently. Finn Clyde was certainly wishing he’d let me fall into the Mystic River at this point. But me? I didn’t feel like I’d had much choice in the matter.
I didn’t die on the bridge. Finn Clyde saved me, and then he kissed me. And I had to keep moving, because the minute I stopped, the momentum that kiss had given me, and the life that kiss had breathed into me, would be snuffed out like everything else. What Finn couldn’t understand was if I called Gran and turned my life back over to her, I might as well just find another bridge.
The phone vibrated against my thighs where it sat nestled between them, and I grabbed for it, flipping it open on a breathless hello.
“Write this down,” Finn snapped, not returning my greeting.
“Can’t you just text it to me?”
“I’m on a motel phone, Bonnie,” he roared.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” I scrambled for the purse I’d purchased at Walmart, but the only thing I could find was the red lipstick I’d kept from Gran’s bag—no pen or paper.
“Bonnie?”
“Uh, okay. Go!”
Finn clipped out the address, and I wrote it on the window with the lipstick as he did. Not bad. I could read it, and I wouldn’t lose it.
“Call Bear.” Click. Finn was not happy.
I called Bear, and I managed to make it to Indianapolis. Finn was right. It only took about three hours. But by the time I got there I was so tired I found a Wendy’s, used their restroom, and bought a salad and a couple of bottles of water. I ate in the car, afraid someone would recognize me, even in my pink coat and beanie. It had happened before. When I finished, I locked the doors and crawled in the back seat, falling asleep parked in the far corner of the Wendy’s parking lot.
I awoke to chilly darkness tempered by street lights and the comforting sounds of nightlife. The blankets around my shoulders smelled a little like Finn, and I wondered how far he was behind me, and what he would say to me when I saw him again. I thought about that kiss, and felt slightly devastated that there wouldn’t be another one. Not now. No more Finn kisses. No more Finn smiles. No more Finn.
I crawled into the front seat and started the Blazer, cranking up the heat and drinking the second bottle of water.
It took me several seconds to realize that Finn’s phone was buzzing again, and I snatched it up gratefully, feeling incredibly alone now that darkness had fallen and I was, well, alone.
“Finn?”
“I have been calling you for three hours. Where are you?” Finn still wasn’t happy.
“I’m in Indianapolis. I had to rest my eyes for a minute. That minute lasted a few hours.” I still sounded tired, even to my own ears, and I muffled a yawn. “Are you still at the bugs-r-us motel?”
“No. I’m on the road. Finally. I rented a car, and I got one of those little throw-away phones, the reloadable kind, from Walmart. My mother’s probably calling my phone. Don’t answer it. I’ll leave a message on her home phone and tell her I’m okay, and that I didn’t kidnap anyone,” Finn snapped.
Meet me in St. Louis, Louis, Meet me at the fair. The words to the old song tripped through my brain. My high school had done the musical, Meet Me in St. Louis, the fall of my sophomore year. I’d tried out for the part played by Judy Garland and had every song memorized a week after auditions. I’d gotten the part but never ended up being in the play. Jackie Jacobson had ended up taking my place. The Nashville Forever audition had been the same day as opening night, so I’d had to back out. I put down my pen and left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. I was back on the interstate, reading road signs as I listened to Blake Shelton do his thing, hoping that Indianapolis was easy to find. I flipped down the radio and greeted my friend, Clyde.
“Bonnie Rae, turn around and get your ass back here with my Blazer.”
“I’m driving to St. Louis, Finn. I left you some money. You can rent a car and meet me there. Or . . . you can call the cops if you want to, but I think it might be a little hard to explain everything when I’m not there to back you up. They might think you have me tied up somewhere.”
The anger coming through the phone was palpable, and I winced and rushed ahead when he didn’t speak.
“I’m calling Bear. I’ll tell him to straighten things out with the police. Okay? I’m going to have him overnight me the things I need, just like I told you. But he needs an address to send them to, Clyde. Can you tell me where your dad lives? I’ll meet you there, with the Blazer. I’ll hand it over, get my things and be on my way. Deal?” My voice squeaked at the end, undermining my tough girl play.
Finn hung up on me.
I kept on driving, both hands on the wheel, holding on to the Blazer like it was my only friend in the world—a stolen best friend. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon but I felt like I’d been up for days, the pressures of the last 36 hours creating a time warp where time felt stretched and surreal, like I’d lived it all before and would live it again, over and over until I got it right. Whatever “right” was. “Right” felt like a very relative word at this point. Since the moment I’d walked off the stage in Boston, I couldn’t think of one single thing I could have done differently. Finn Clyde was certainly wishing he’d let me fall into the Mystic River at this point. But me? I didn’t feel like I’d had much choice in the matter.
I didn’t die on the bridge. Finn Clyde saved me, and then he kissed me. And I had to keep moving, because the minute I stopped, the momentum that kiss had given me, and the life that kiss had breathed into me, would be snuffed out like everything else. What Finn couldn’t understand was if I called Gran and turned my life back over to her, I might as well just find another bridge.
The phone vibrated against my thighs where it sat nestled between them, and I grabbed for it, flipping it open on a breathless hello.
“Write this down,” Finn snapped, not returning my greeting.
“Can’t you just text it to me?”
“I’m on a motel phone, Bonnie,” he roared.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” I scrambled for the purse I’d purchased at Walmart, but the only thing I could find was the red lipstick I’d kept from Gran’s bag—no pen or paper.
“Bonnie?”
“Uh, okay. Go!”
Finn clipped out the address, and I wrote it on the window with the lipstick as he did. Not bad. I could read it, and I wouldn’t lose it.
“Call Bear.” Click. Finn was not happy.
I called Bear, and I managed to make it to Indianapolis. Finn was right. It only took about three hours. But by the time I got there I was so tired I found a Wendy’s, used their restroom, and bought a salad and a couple of bottles of water. I ate in the car, afraid someone would recognize me, even in my pink coat and beanie. It had happened before. When I finished, I locked the doors and crawled in the back seat, falling asleep parked in the far corner of the Wendy’s parking lot.
I awoke to chilly darkness tempered by street lights and the comforting sounds of nightlife. The blankets around my shoulders smelled a little like Finn, and I wondered how far he was behind me, and what he would say to me when I saw him again. I thought about that kiss, and felt slightly devastated that there wouldn’t be another one. Not now. No more Finn kisses. No more Finn smiles. No more Finn.
I crawled into the front seat and started the Blazer, cranking up the heat and drinking the second bottle of water.
It took me several seconds to realize that Finn’s phone was buzzing again, and I snatched it up gratefully, feeling incredibly alone now that darkness had fallen and I was, well, alone.
“Finn?”
“I have been calling you for three hours. Where are you?” Finn still wasn’t happy.
“I’m in Indianapolis. I had to rest my eyes for a minute. That minute lasted a few hours.” I still sounded tired, even to my own ears, and I muffled a yawn. “Are you still at the bugs-r-us motel?”
“No. I’m on the road. Finally. I rented a car, and I got one of those little throw-away phones, the reloadable kind, from Walmart. My mother’s probably calling my phone. Don’t answer it. I’ll leave a message on her home phone and tell her I’m okay, and that I didn’t kidnap anyone,” Finn snapped.
