While I Was Away(82)

“So it's almost six,” she said, feeding him the snack while she glanced at her watch. “We can swing by my parents rental?”

“Not even gonna give me a chance to freshen up, are you?”

Adele shook her head, fed him a couple more chips, then brushed the crumbs off her hand before replying, “my parents won't be there, don't worry, they're visiting some retired friend of my dad's way out in Pomona. My brothers are there packing up stuff to ship out in the morning, I've been texting them.”

“They know we're coming?” Jones asked, glancing in the rear view mirror as he passed a slow vehicle on their right.

“I told them we'd be stopping by. Ocean asked a million questions. August requested beer. Oh! Let's bring them pizza!” she clapped her hands together. “Food is like gold to those guys, they'll love you forever if you walk in the door with food and pizza.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he chuckled, putting on his turn signal to get back in the slow lane. “And I hope they like me, because I plan on sticking around for forever.”

“Flirt,” she snorted.

“We can swing by – look out!”

His warning actually came too late – Adele shrieked as a car streaked by them. Jones had been in the act of sliding into the right lane when a tricked out Honda Civic had come out of nowhere. It was going so fast it was little more than a white blur, and had been close enough to rip off her side view. They both swayed in their seats as Jones jerked their car back into the left lane.

“What the shit was that? Where did he come from?” he shouted. She couldn't answer for a moment as her body had flashbacks of an accident her brain couldn't remember. She pressed her hand to her chest, over her wildly beating heart, and was thankful to feel the seat belt strap slanting across her.

“Jesus, how fast do you think he was going?” she asked in a shaky voice. Before Jones could answer, though, there was the sound of squealing tires behind them. His eyes darted to the mirrors while she turned in her seat. “I think he ran someone off the road back there!”

“Way too fast, over a hundred. Christ, it's rush hour, what is he thinking? He could – oh fuck, OH FUCK! HOLD ON!”

Adele didn't have time to hold on. She didn't have time to do anything. She turned back around at the same time Jones slammed on the breaks. The tires screamed against the pavement – another sound her body seemed to remember quite well. She thrust herself back in her seat at the same time Jones threw his right arm across her front, trying to hold her safely in place as their car lost control.

Silly man, when an angel is called back to heaven, you can't hold them here on earth.

The white Honda Civic was performing magic, flying over the cement median, leaving a trail of fairy dust and sparks behind it. Apparently, the driver had side swiped a mini-van before plowing into the back of a tiny economy car. The tinier vehicle had acted as the perfect ramp, sending the Civic on its journey to the other side of the highway.

But gravity isn't such a fan of magic, it seemed. It wouldn't let the Civic complete its trip, pulling the back end down so the tires were caught on the median. Inertia whipped the small Honda back into their lane and while she watched in absolute horror, it slammed into the side of their car.

Funny how she couldn't remember her first accident at all, because as this one was happening, she was sure she'd never forget it.

Someone was screaming while their car played pinball with L.A. rush hour traffic. The front of the vehicle was sent into the neighboring lane and was struck full force by a pick-up truck, which sent them into a wild spin. The screaming kept on ringing through the air as they did a one-eighty. It probably would've been a full three-sixty, if it hadn't been for the mini-van – the side swiped one from moments (seconds? Hours? What was time anymore?) earlier – coming back to claim its revenge.

It slammed into the front panel of Adele's car, maybe a foot from where she was sitting. For one frightening moment, she locked eyes with the terrified looking woman behind the van's steering wheel. Just one moment, though, because in the next Adele was somewhat airborn. The sedan she and Jones were in groaned and rolled onto its side. It dragged along the concrete for an agonizing couple seconds, sending sparks flying through the interior of the car, before it groaned again and rolled onto its roof. Then it finally came to a stop, gently rock back and forth.

And not once, in that entire time, did Jones drop his arm from her chest.

“Oh my god!” Adele realized it was her doing all the screaming. “Oh my god, are you okay? Jones? Jones!”

They both looked at each other. He had a nasty gash on the left side of his forehead and it was letting out a lot of blood, but other than that, he seemed okay. He shook his head and finally let her go so he could press both his hands against the roof above them.

“Don't move too much,” he instructed her, sounding a bit winded. “You could have injuries you don't know about. And don't tense up – there could be more cars coming.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she sobbed, copying him and bracing her hands against the roof. “How could this be happening? Again!?”

There was an awful silence between them for a moment. Horns blared, someone outside was crying, and she was pretty sure she could hear a fire crackling somewhere. But then Jones chuckled, and she turned to him again, wondering if he was delusional.