Under the Table(54)
“Got that right. I’m already sorry. Sorry I met you.”
Derek took out Zoey’s suitcase, his anger and voice ramping up more with each word. “What the hell makes you think you’re so perfect? You think anyone else would go through what I did to get you to come home? You’re not even worth it.”
Then, after taking a few steps and a windup, Derek launched her suitcase down the embankment. He stomped back to get into his car, but right before he did, he bared his teeth and pointed a finger.
“Good luck!” he shouted from across the roof in an attempt to be heard over the passing traffic.
He got back into his car and rolled down the passenger window. Like an idiot, she took a step over to the car and peered in. “And just to set the record straight, I didn’t come to New York for you. I went there for Ruth.”
She could read his lips as if she couldn’t hear him loud and clear. By the end they had curled up in a sneer. Even if it was a lie, there was truth behind it. She backed away from the car, standing straight up, looking off into the horizon. Even when she didn’t care one whit about him, he still managed to hurt her.
With the tires screeching loud enough to be heard over the muffler and kicking up dust, he peeled away, accompanied by the sound of a car horn blaring as he merged. She saw his hand thrust out the driver’s side, middle finger up. Whether it was directed at her or the honking driver was immaterial. He had managed to kill two birds with one stone.
Zoey watched his car, and the finger, until it was out of sight. Then she half stepped, half slid her way down the steep embankment, scooping up what she hoped was her own toothbrush as she passed it. Her suitcase had opened up upon landing, likely with some unzippering help from Derek before he heaved it. As she gathered up her remaining possessions from the shrubs and weeds, she began to laugh again. Never had she seen karma work so quickly.
“This is nothing less than I deserve.” She pulled a pair of her panties out of a thorny bush and contemplated the ironic significance while chucking it back in the suitcase. “I never made an impulsive decision that didn’t end up kicking me in the ass.”
It became a game, retrieving her scattered garments, balling them up, then shooting them in the direction of the open suitcase. She wanted to take her time, because as soon as she climbed back up the small hill, she would have to get back to deciding what she was going to do next. There were only a few hours of daylight left. If she didn’t find a way off the highway, she was going to be in deep trouble. She seriously doubted taxis picked up from the side of a toll road, especially when you couldn’t tell them exactly where you were. Then she spied her magic bag, open with at least half the jars of spices broken in the impact, sprinkling a dust of their own on the ground. All her laughter came to an end and her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed.
How had it come to this? Only hours ago she was making love on a golf course with the man who made her feel like the most cherished, beautiful woman in the world. Now she was battling bees for what was left of her toiletries. Was there a part of her that secretly deemed her worthy of only drama and failure? She had stayed with Derek long past their relationship’s expiration date. She was having trouble remembering why she married him. Had she gone to New York for adventure, or to try and watch over her sister, or for something else entirely? And what about her business? She had been so gung-ho when she started it. So much so, she curtailed all other activities to make it a success, then threw it all away to go back to Ohio.
“Heeeeyyy!” Zoey turned toward the sound coming from the highway.
Zoey squinted through the sun up the ditch. It was a woman, standing on the shoulder. At least it sounded like a woman. It was hard to tell. All she could make out for certain were a baseball cap and sunglasses. Her hands were planted on her hips. The backdrop, an eighteen-wheeler.
“You okay down there?” the figure asked.
“Yeah!” Zoey called back, hustling to gather up the rest of her things.
“Need any help?” Zoey’s savior took a few steps in making her way down the embankment.
“No, I got it.” Zoey zipped the suitcase closed and started dragging it back up the hill.
When Zoey reached the shoulder, she stood the suitcase up and brushed the dirt off her butt and the backs of her legs. She took a seat on the suitcase to catch her breath, finally able to take it all in. It was a woman, and a petite one at that. She was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt that upon closer inspection read keep calm and carry bacon. A woman after her own heart. The brunette hair under the cap was in a ponytail. She looked to be near to forty, with a cautious smile.
“Thanks for stopping,” Zoey said, wiping the sweat off her brow with a dirty hand.
“I was driving by when I saw that guy make the throw. What a dick.”
“Yeah. Soon-to-be ex-husbands can get pretty touchy.”
“He’s lucky I can’t stop on a dime, or he would’ve been staring down the barrel of my forty-five. I got his plate number when he passed me before I turned around. You want me to call the cops?”
“Hell no,” Zoey replied. “Believe it or not, this was the best-case scenario. With any luck, I’ll never see him again. Ever.”
“Well, all righty then. Come on, I’ll give you a lift to the next rest stop. Name’s Phyllis.”
Phyllis motioned for Zoey to stand up, and she took the suitcase to store in the big rig’s lower storage compartment. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman.