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I was released from the hospital
that afternoon. Despite the fact that
AJ had taken care of all my bills, they were still wary of keeping
someone
with no medical insurance -- I was unemployed, after all.
I left the hospital with
a police escort. I had no other way to get to the
police station to file a report and retrieve my belongings. The
officer was
very nice ... he made friendly chatter at me, though I finally figured
out that
he really wanted to know what a nice girl like me was doing traveling
with
a dangerous-looking guy like AJ, and why he wasn't still there to help
me.
I wasn't in the mood to feed small-town gossip, so I kept mostly silent.
The police report was more
painless than I'd feared. Both the driver of
the truck (a local farmer) and I admitted partial guilt - the officer
in charge
simply filed the necessary paperwork and left us to work the rest out
on our
own. The farmer simply shrugged off my attempts to give him a
copy of
my insurance card. "No need," he said. "I actually escaped
with just some
dents on my front end, no big deal. Besides, your young man already
offered me money - I told him no, too." He did, however, insist
on giving
me his insurance information, which I gladly accepted. My car
was
effectively totaled - it would cost more to fix it than the little
Escort was
worth.
I had definitely picked the
right person to hit - the farmer generously
offered me a ride to wherever I was going. As a matter of fact,
when he
found out I was going to the local budget motel, he offered me his
spare
room. "The wife and I have extra room, ever since our baby went
to college
last year," he told me. "It'd be no trouble if you wanted to
stay there while
you figure everything out." It was a generous offer, but one
I refused. I
needed time to think.
When I was finally alone
in my hotel room, I sat on the bed and stared
at myself in the dresser mirror. I looked fairly normal, aside
from the dark
circles under my eyes - I'd hit the side of my head, so all bruising
was under
my hair. It hurt like a bitch to brush it, though. I was
dressed in the same
t-shirt and jeans that I'd been wearing when the accident happened,
washed
and pressed thanks to the nurses at the hospital. I looked to
the side - every
item I owned in the universe was piled next to the bed. Two suitcases
full
of clothes and toiletries, a small crate of CDs, my CD player (broken
in the
accident), two romance novels I'd been reading before I left Kansas
City, a
package of Ho-Ho's I'd kept in my car for emergencies, and the parking
pass
from my old job that had been hanging around my rear view mirror.
That
was it. No more car, no apartment to go home to, nothing permanent.
I
was, in essence, homeless.
That wasn't entirely true
- I could always go home to my parents in
Wichita - but anything I had ever worked for as an adult was gone.
Depression set in before I could even think about it.
Blinking at my reflection,
I pulled AJ's note out of my pocket. The
phrase "love at first sight" kept popping out at me, scaring me half
to death.
I wanted desperately to believe that someone out there loved me ...
it was
hard, though. I'd been nothing but neurotic for the few days
we'd been
together. He'd met me at the absolute worst point in my life
... how could
he love me? Did I love him? Jesus, how did you love someone
after only
knowing them three days? I couldn't make sense out of the jumbled
emotions that were twisting my insides in knots.
I stared at his cel phone
number. New York. What would happen if I
called him and told him I wanted to come? Would he regret having
asked?
How would I get there? What would it be like, hanging out with
a pop
superstar in the biggest city in the world? It sounded overwhelming.
Sliding back on the bed,
I picked up the phone. "Just call him," I
muttered to myself. "He asked you to, anyway." I made my
fingers dial the
number.
After five rings, a recorded
message answered. My heart skipped a
beat to hear AJ's raspy voice, even if it wasn't live. "Hey,
I'm not by my
phone, leave a message and I'll call you back."
"Hi, it's Tori." I
could hear my voice trembling, and steadied it. "I'm
out of the hospital, at a hotel. If ... if the invitation's still
open, I think,
maybe, I'd like to come to New York. Butifit'snotdon'tworryaboutit,"
I said
in a rush. "Anyway, give me a call ..." I gave him the
hotel number and
hung up.
Hours passed. I watched
every boring show Pennsylvania network
television had to offer, all the while watching the phone. The
longer it
stayed silent, the harder the butterflies in my stomach fluttered.
He wasn't
going to call. Yes, he was, he was just busy. Give him
time. I already gave
him time. Maybe I should just try something else ... My brain
warred with
itself, giving me a larger headache than the concussion.
At 10PM, I picked up the
phone again. This time, my fingers dialed
the familiar 316 area code. It was automatic.
I got another recording.
"Hi, you've reached Don and Elizabeth
Reynolds. We're not home right now, so leave us your name, number,
and a
brief message, and we'll get back to you as soon as possible!
Have a good
day!"
"Mom ... Dad ... it's me.
I'm in Pennsylvania now, and, well ... I need
some help. I'm in a hotel - call me." I gave them the number.
I turned the TV down to a
whisper and lay down, pulling the blankets
over my head. Maybe I'd have a clearer head in the morning.
I woke just after sunrise,
feeling stronger. I'd had strange,
unrecognizable dreams in the night ... I'd been there, with AJ, and
Steve,
and though I didn't remember what happened, I woke up knowing that
my
life in Kansas City was effectively over - and I was okay with that.
Even if
I went back, to tie up loose ends, it wouldn't be permanent.
I'd outgrown it.
I'd also decided, somewhere in the night, that I would let the phone
decide
my immediate fate. Whoever called first, be it AJ or my parents,
would get
me.
God, I love moments of clarity
like that. They make life so much
easier.
I busied myself around the
hotel room, folding clothes, watching talk
shows, just waiting for the phone to ring. The butterflies were
still there,
but not as intrusive as before.
As lunch approached, and
my phone remained silent, I began to get
annoyed. "Thanks, guys, nice to know someone loves me," I told
it. "Fuck
it, I'm going to find some lunch. I'm starving."
I picked up my purse and
walked to the door. No sooner had I put my
hand on the doorknob than ...
RING!!!
The butterflies went crazy.
