Unlikely Protectors

Jolie pressed down on the gas pedal. All the way. Nothing. NOTHING!! She felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel. Bright headlights in her rearview mirror flooded her eyes. Oh please, oh please, oh please. Her car sputtered along. There was no place to pull over. No place safe. Not with that truck bearing down on her. Oh please, oh please.

A long, angry honk shook through the car, and she screamed. This is NOT my fault. What could she do? Even if she did know what was wrong and how to fix it. She was not pulling over. She was out in the country, if she screamed, no one would hear her. She used both feet on the gas pedal and pushed as hard as she could. NOTHING! She jiggled the gear shifter. Nothing. Please.

Another honk. She leaned forward in her seat, willing the car to keep going, to go faster. Please go. Please.

The speedometer read only ten mph. The truck stayed on her bumper. Its angry lights spilled into her car. She could hear its roar. It drowned out the sound of her own sputtering engine. “Why don’t you just pass me?” Her throaty holler could barely compete with the noise.

There was no oncoming traffic. The truck’s lights filled all her mirrors. She couldn’t tell if there was a line of cars behind her.

Oh please. Oh please. Her leg continued to push on the accelerator. She didn’t dare let up and try depressing it again. What if she lost what little momentum she had? Another long, angry honk blasted into her ears. “STOP!” She wiped sweat from her eyes. “Just a little bit farther.” Just a little bit farther.

The Oak Tree Inn was around the next bend. She willed the car to make it.

When she drifted into a parking space, the truck followed her. She tried to stifle the fear that caught in her throat, but a little girly squeak still leaked through. She swallowed back a full-fledged scream. All she had to do was swiftly exit the car and get into the bar. She had no time to still her breathing, no room for fumbling with the door handle.

With a man’s voice raised in anger behind her, she entered the Inn. Without missing a beat the bar tender looked up, “What can I do for you, Jolie?” No greeting. He remembered her name, just like that. What kind of look did she have on her face? Maybe it was only the obvious danger of the hollering man behind her. She could see in the bartender’s eyes that he’d taken in everything.

“Do…do… you have a phone?”

Matt moved from behind the bar. “Sure,” he placed his arm around her shoulders, “right back here.”

When she finished making the call, she found herself shakily trying to mount a barstool.

“Beer?”

“No.” She fiddled with her fingers twirling them and squeezing them between each other.

“Sure?” Matt didn’t look at her with pity or judgment. He didn’t ask questions. The truck driver was gone. She risked a glance toward the window. She hoped Matt didn’t notice. It embarrassed her that she couldn’t manage to make the fear go away. There was no truck in the parking lot.

“I don’t drink.”

Matt smiled. “You gave it up? Good for you.”

Jolie smiled back. She hadn’t given up alcohol, she just didn’t like it, but what could she expect from a man who knew her because each day of elementary school they’d endured together the punishment of no recess; he was naughty, and she never finished her school work.

“How ’bout a soda?”

Jolie nodded. “Okay.”

She tried to ascertain, without really looking, if everyone in the bar was paying attention to her. She’d had a noticeable entrance. She wasn’t comfortable being the center of attention but no one caught her eye. For that, she was relieved. They all seemed to be either looking at the TV or talking to somebody. Most were men but they weren’t eyeing her.

Matt brought her a tall glass of ice and Coke. He’d grown into a hulking man. She untangled her fingers and reached a still shaky hand for the glass. Matt held up a hand, “Here,” he plopped a straw into the glass for her.

“Thanks.” Her voice came out so low he probably didn’t hear her. She leaned in and took a sip while she squirreled her hands away in her lap under the bar. “Um, Matt?” He looked up from filling someone else’s glass. “Do you think I, um, could … Think it’d be okay if I left my car overnight?”

“Whatever you need.”

Jolie didn’t know if he had the authority to allow her to use the Inn’s parking lot but she didn’t ask. Her ride came. She placed her money on the bar. “Thanks.”

Matt slid it back to her. “Not tonight.” No one else heard him or saw what he did. He shook his head when she resisted. Then she followed his narrowed-eyed gaze to the door where her boyfriend stood. She scanned the room. It hadn’t quieted, but she noticed several looking out of the corner of their eyes toward the door. Matt wasn’t the only one she recognized from the no-recess days.

She knew these boys and they’d had her back. Unlikely protectors. She’d save her tears of relief for home, for when she was alone.