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Waiting
The night was growing dark and the traffic, which had been so heavy when they'd arrived, had become nonexistent. It was chilly, and she'd been waiting in the little car for over an hour now. He still hadn't come back. She hugged her thin jacket closer to her and sighed. She'd always thought that Chattanooga was in the South, and the South meant warm. But Louisiana had been chilly and damp, Georgia had been just plain chilly, and now Tennessee was cold. Not that she minded cold, usually. She thought of a quote she'd read once: "There's no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing." "Amen!" she muttered, and shivered. She could start the car and let the heater warm her up, but she was nearly broke and didn't want to waste the gas. He'd buy gas as soon as he got back, and pay for the motel room, too. He'd gone to the Western Union office to pick up the money one of his friends was sending him. They'd already gone through all the money they had, and jobs hadn't been as easy to come by as he'd been led to believe. She could have worked, of course. At the very least, as a go-go dancer in one of the sleazy clubs she'd see along the interstate. She had a month or two before she started showing. She'd gotten good tips as a bartender, and she was sure she'd be able to get good tips as a dancer, too. There was a trick to it, but she'd mastered that some time ago. All she needed to do was to hide her disgust, to wear a mask of pleasant acceptance. If she tweaked the mask a little, made it look a little more engaged and interested, guys would stuff the big bills into her bra and G-string. But he'd forbidden it, and since she wanted to make this relationship work, she'd abandoned the idea. She loved him, loved the way he made her feel. She wasn't ready to give up yet. He'd find a way to earn a living, and he'd take care of her. He'd promised. Shivering again, she gave in and started the car. After a few minutes, blessed heat poured from the blower. She let it wash over her for ten minutes or so and then shut the engine off again. This was getting a little frightening. He'd been gone so long, and he'd left her out here knowing how cold it was. "Stay with the car," he'd told her, "This isn't a great neighborhood and we can't afford to let anyone steal the car." It was her car, and she felt the same way. But the streets were deserted now. Who was there to steal the car? She stared across the street to where he disappeared for a few minutes, then made her decision. She snatched the keys from the ignition, locked the car doors, then got out and locked the driver's door with the keys. Jamming them into her jacket pocket, she ran across the street and around the corner to the Western Union office. When she saw that the office was dark, she stopped in mid-stride, the shock threatening to make her stomach lose its contents right there on the street. She walked slowly to the door, where the sign said "Hours: 8:00 to 5:00 daily." They'd gotten there about ten minutes to five. Feeling the panic rising within her, she looked around frantically. Then she saw it, down the street on the opposite side. The Greyhound terminal. In a stunning second of realization, she understood. He had gotten his money, bought a bus ticket and had left her in Chattanooga alone with a quarter of a tank of gas, no money, an overdue bill for motel rent. Where he'd gone, she couldn't guess. All she was sure of was that he had left her there waiting with his baby inside her. Props to the CHPercolator List for the prompt |
