That Night
"Can you come get me? I've just been a wreck."
It was just after two in the morning, I had a final exam at eight, and the ring of the phone had awakened the
whole house. College is a lot of things, but mostly it's real life minus the sharp edges. Sometimes however,
you catch a corner and you've just got to deal.
For quite possibly the first time all semester, I was in bed to sleep at eleven. My roommates and I had served
as the stewards at an apartment that invoked shades of a kind of Grand Central Station, with classmates and
friends dropping by at all hours of the day and night. Our parties lasted all night and our cookouts legendary.
But this was the week that would make or break a semester, so all was quiet until that phone call.
I sprang from the bed, fully awake in seconds. I asked her where she was and nothing else. I told her I was
on my way and that everything would be okay, the things you're supposed to say. I put on some shorts,
grabbed a t-shirt, grabbed my keys and my wallet and all but ran out of the house.
The night was warm, as nights in Florida are as summer approaches. I broke into a sweat almost immediately,
a combination of the high humidity courtesy of the gulf and worry. My car started on first turn of the key
and as I weaved out of the parking lot I mentally plotted out the fastest route to where she said she was,
and how fast a young black male could drive before the police took an interest. I went through town, the
lights generous as moved along at a good clip. Traffic at this hour was nearly non-existent in this small
southern town so I had time to think and so my mind played back the sound of voice, the fear I heard.
She didn't own a car.
I was halfway there when that occurred to me. I had just passed my favorite Chinese restaurant, with it's
buffet sixty items long and that little yellow cake with the chocolate frosting for dessert. The road ahead
sloped away on a long hill that let the car almost glide effortlessly through the darkness.
I'd met her four months ago on my couch. She'd come with her friend who was seeing one of my
roommates and we'd clicked, so the next night she'd shown up alone. On her fourth visit as one am rolled
around I finally stood up and said I had take it in for the night. She shrugged and casually asked which one
was my bedroom.
I got stopped by a red light at an empty intersection and was tempted to run it. My engine purred in the
dark for a few minutes until I finally pushed through the long slow blink. I had the window open and my neck
was starting to hurt I was so tense. I sped down that empty stretch of pseudo highway towards the
perimeter road and the park beyond.
The park closed at sundown.
I made the turn onto the two lane blacktop, an even lonelier stretch of road that the one I had turn off of,
and somewhere out there in the darkness were the state prison and another lonely road I needed to turn on
to find her. I knew she was out there wondering how this all was going to turn out. I got nervous and leaned
forward peering ahead desperate not to miss the turn.
I had bought a new bed. We spent many day on that bed, just talking. She lovingly fed me broccoli and
cheese as we lounged naked in the middle of lazy afternoons on that bed, and I hated broccoli and I hated
cheese. We had fallen asleep many a night on that bed, her arms around me and smooth feel of cocoa skin
that hid beneath baggy jeans and oversized shirts that would litter my bedroom floor. Without her I tossed
and turned, but with her there I slept like a stone.
The road into the vast expanse of parkland was narrow and twisting, a series of deep curves with no
illumination. She was around the second curve.
I swear that for a second my heart stopped beating, even though this thought had struck me back at the
Chinese restaurant and again as I'd run the light. A cool demeanor came over me, one whose origin I still
wonder about today. I stopped in the road and got out, she was already running towards me. She clung to
me in a way I'd never felt, even after all those nights we'd spent.
The tow truck had the car righted already. The roof was collapsed in on one corner, the windows shattered
and the front fender was now in a wheel well on one side. It was a gray car, not too old or too young, and
oddly none of the tires had flattened. I studied it for a moment, then looked at the tow truck driver watching
me, the lights on his white truck with the red trim and my headlights the only illumination in this dark patch.
"Hey man, the ambulance has already been here." He spoke loudly but didn't yell. He was more to middle
aged fellow, a little unshaved but he'd already figured out the situation and so his take on me was the
expectation of even more trouble. I stood there, her body pressed against me, shaking and sobbing, looking
for comfort. I nodded to no one, looked up and the sky and even as I put my arms around her as if by
reflex, I could feel the numbness wash over me. "Can you get them to the hospital?"
"Sure."
I got her into the car first, then went back and got him. He didn't look good, the paramedics had swaddled
half his face in bandages so that he looked like a mummy breaking out of fresh wrappings. He tried to
introduce himself but I didn't get the name he slurred through swollen lips, and he looked scared. Not of
what had happened but of me, the one eye as intent on my actions as that of the tow truck driver who
stood a mute guard.
I got back in the car and for the first time that night noticed the radio was playing. Suddenly she was so
small, a tiny frail figure in the passenger seat, gazing at me for solace. I turned the car around.
She was a scholarship student, full ride complete, but she was nonchalant about it. And I was hustling to get
a few extra bucks in pocket each month doing odd jobs, temping and selling blood plasma. One night out
she surprised me, her usual jeans and disguises gone, her hair done and wearing a skirt. My mouth hung
open at the transformation. She had taken the time for me, and she was glorious. I would carry that vision
of her forever. And now we were here.
She started talking in the car, rambling on worried about the car and what the owner would do when he
found out, worried about her scholarship, worried about everything. I glanced in the mirror at our silent
passenger, who stared right back with his single visible eye. I wasn't sure if he was scared I was going to pull
over and finish off what the accident had begun or he was just dazed by the events of the evening. In either
case he looked alert, focused.
"I want to go to your house, take me home with you," she started chanting, between fears of the
scholarship loss and what the owner of the car might do to her. I wondered briefly who was this yet third
party on this affair. Or was I the third party? My cool came back as I pulled into the emergency room drive.
I pulled up to the doorway, trotted in and got help. It must have been a slow night, as the room was empty
and they clambered to get what they needed. By the time I had gotten back and had my male passenger
out of the car they were there with the wheelchair. He looked up and thanked me and was whisked away.
That was the last time I ever saw him.
She didn’t want to leave my car. She begged for me to just take her to my house, to let her sleep in my
bed, and I begged her to stay and get checked out. I reassured her that everything would be okay, my
mind on automatic. Once she was in the room with the nurse she calmed down and after they started taking
her blood pressure I went out into the empty waiting room. I called her girl, the one who had stopped seeing
my roommate long ago and let her know what happened. Her friend told me she was on the way, so I went
back to her.
The preliminaries done, the nurse sent us to the waiting area. There, this woman whom I felt deeply for, with
whom I shared my bed took my hand and pleaded with me not to leave her. I sat there, so hurt, I couldn’t
find the warmth.
She wanted to leave. For the first time since I known her I saw her in a state of disrepair. I had seen her
transformed, seen her playful, and had hoped to one day be her comforter, but circumstances or fate had
given me an ugly turn. We sat there together until her girl came in, sleepy eyed but there. When she came
over I told her that the patient needed to stay and get checked out.
It was almost four now. And I did have a final in the morning. Her girlfriend looked at me with sad eyes, as
though she knew the story. She clung to my arm, and asked me not to leave once more. I don’t remember
if I kissed her goodbye, hugged her or just said I’ve got to go. Whatever I did was wrong. It was all so
surreal at that moment. At my car, I stood with the door open for a few minutes looking back at the
hospital, as though trying to freeze the moments in my memory, then started the long slow drive back to
my apartment.
"Can you come get me? I've just been a wreck."
It was just after two in the morning, I had a final exam at eight, and the ring of the phone had awakened the
whole house. College is a lot of things, but mostly it's real life minus the sharp edges. Sometimes however,
you catch a corner and you've just got to deal.
For quite possibly the first time all semester, I was in bed to sleep at eleven. My roommates and I had served
as the stewards at an apartment that invoked shades of a kind of Grand Central Station, with classmates and
friends dropping by at all hours of the day and night. Our parties lasted all night and our cookouts legendary.
But this was the week that would make or break a semester, so all was quiet until that phone call.
I sprang from the bed, fully awake in seconds. I asked her where she was and nothing else. I told her I was
on my way and that everything would be okay, the things you're supposed to say. I put on some shorts,
grabbed a t-shirt, grabbed my keys and my wallet and all but ran out of the house.
The night was warm, as nights in Florida are as summer approaches. I broke into a sweat almost immediately,
a combination of the high humidity courtesy of the gulf and worry. My car started on first turn of the key
and as I weaved out of the parking lot I mentally plotted out the fastest route to where she said she was,
and how fast a young black male could drive before the police took an interest. I went through town, the
lights generous as moved along at a good clip. Traffic at this hour was nearly non-existent in this small
southern town so I had time to think and so my mind played back the sound of voice, the fear I heard.
She didn't own a car.
I was halfway there when that occurred to me. I had just passed my favorite Chinese restaurant, with it's
buffet sixty items long and that little yellow cake with the chocolate frosting for dessert. The road ahead
sloped away on a long hill that let the car almost glide effortlessly through the darkness.
I'd met her four months ago on my couch. She'd come with her friend who was seeing one of my
roommates and we'd clicked, so the next night she'd shown up alone. On her fourth visit as one am rolled
around I finally stood up and said I had take it in for the night. She shrugged and casually asked which one
was my bedroom.
I got stopped by a red light at an empty intersection and was tempted to run it. My engine purred in the
dark for a few minutes until I finally pushed through the long slow blink. I had the window open and my neck
was starting to hurt I was so tense. I sped down that empty stretch of pseudo highway towards the
perimeter road and the park beyond.
The park closed at sundown.
I made the turn onto the two lane blacktop, an even lonelier stretch of road that the one I had turn off of,
and somewhere out there in the darkness were the state prison and another lonely road I needed to turn on
to find her. I knew she was out there wondering how this all was going to turn out. I got nervous and leaned
forward peering ahead desperate not to miss the turn.
I had bought a new bed. We spent many day on that bed, just talking. She lovingly fed me broccoli and
cheese as we lounged naked in the middle of lazy afternoons on that bed, and I hated broccoli and I hated
cheese. We had fallen asleep many a night on that bed, her arms around me and smooth feel of cocoa skin
that hid beneath baggy jeans and oversized shirts that would litter my bedroom floor. Without her I tossed
and turned, but with her there I slept like a stone.
The road into the vast expanse of parkland was narrow and twisting, a series of deep curves with no
illumination. She was around the second curve.
I swear that for a second my heart stopped beating, even though this thought had struck me back at the
Chinese restaurant and again as I'd run the light. A cool demeanor came over me, one whose origin I still
wonder about today. I stopped in the road and got out, she was already running towards me. She clung to
me in a way I'd never felt, even after all those nights we'd spent.
The tow truck had the car righted already. The roof was collapsed in on one corner, the windows shattered
and the front fender was now in a wheel well on one side. It was a gray car, not too old or too young, and
oddly none of the tires had flattened. I studied it for a moment, then looked at the tow truck driver watching
me, the lights on his white truck with the red trim and my headlights the only illumination in this dark patch.
"Hey man, the ambulance has already been here." He spoke loudly but didn't yell. He was more to middle
aged fellow, a little unshaved but he'd already figured out the situation and so his take on me was the
expectation of even more trouble. I stood there, her body pressed against me, shaking and sobbing, looking
for comfort. I nodded to no one, looked up and the sky and even as I put my arms around her as if by
reflex, I could feel the numbness wash over me. "Can you get them to the hospital?"
"Sure."
I got her into the car first, then went back and got him. He didn't look good, the paramedics had swaddled
half his face in bandages so that he looked like a mummy breaking out of fresh wrappings. He tried to
introduce himself but I didn't get the name he slurred through swollen lips, and he looked scared. Not of
what had happened but of me, the one eye as intent on my actions as that of the tow truck driver who
stood a mute guard.
I got back in the car and for the first time that night noticed the radio was playing. Suddenly she was so
small, a tiny frail figure in the passenger seat, gazing at me for solace. I turned the car around.
She was a scholarship student, full ride complete, but she was nonchalant about it. And I was hustling to get
a few extra bucks in pocket each month doing odd jobs, temping and selling blood plasma. One night out
she surprised me, her usual jeans and disguises gone, her hair done and wearing a skirt. My mouth hung
open at the transformation. She had taken the time for me, and she was glorious. I would carry that vision
of her forever. And now we were here.
She started talking in the car, rambling on worried about the car and what the owner would do when he
found out, worried about her scholarship, worried about everything. I glanced in the mirror at our silent
passenger, who stared right back with his single visible eye. I wasn't sure if he was scared I was going to pull
over and finish off what the accident had begun or he was just dazed by the events of the evening. In either
case he looked alert, focused.
"I want to go to your house, take me home with you," she started chanting, between fears of the
scholarship loss and what the owner of the car might do to her. I wondered briefly who was this yet third
party on this affair. Or was I the third party? My cool came back as I pulled into the emergency room drive.
I pulled up to the doorway, trotted in and got help. It must have been a slow night, as the room was empty
and they clambered to get what they needed. By the time I had gotten back and had my male passenger
out of the car they were there with the wheelchair. He looked up and thanked me and was whisked away.
That was the last time I ever saw him.
She didn’t want to leave my car. She begged for me to just take her to my house, to let her sleep in my
bed, and I begged her to stay and get checked out. I reassured her that everything would be okay, my
mind on automatic. Once she was in the room with the nurse she calmed down and after they started taking
her blood pressure I went out into the empty waiting room. I called her girl, the one who had stopped seeing
my roommate long ago and let her know what happened. Her friend told me she was on the way, so I went
back to her.
The preliminaries done, the nurse sent us to the waiting area. There, this woman whom I felt deeply for, with
whom I shared my bed took my hand and pleaded with me not to leave her. I sat there, so hurt, I couldn’t
find the warmth.
She wanted to leave. For the first time since I known her I saw her in a state of disrepair. I had seen her
transformed, seen her playful, and had hoped to one day be her comforter, but circumstances or fate had
given me an ugly turn. We sat there together until her girl came in, sleepy eyed but there. When she came
over I told her that the patient needed to stay and get checked out.
It was almost four now. And I did have a final in the morning. Her girlfriend looked at me with sad eyes, as
though she knew the story. She clung to my arm, and asked me not to leave once more. I don’t remember
if I kissed her goodbye, hugged her or just said I’ve got to go. Whatever I did was wrong. It was all so
surreal at that moment. At my car, I stood with the door open for a few minutes looking back at the
hospital, as though trying to freeze the moments in my memory, then started the long slow drive back to
my apartment.
Sometimes the stories are too real. This my recollection of one night long ago. It's pretty much a true
story, at least from my point of view. I fairly certain if she ever reads this, I find out I remembered it
wrong.
story, at least from my point of view. I fairly certain if she ever reads this, I find out I remembered it
wrong.