Why you left me poking around at the roadside vegetable stand, while you slipped back into the car and drove to Lord knows where, I have no idea. But as I was looking for stuff for a salad for dinner to make later at your mom’s, a small tingle crept across the back of my neck, causing me to shiver.
Looking up, I saw the space in the gravel parking lot where your father’s Impala had been only moments before. Seeing that and what I took to be just a speck of brown dust kicked up from the turning of your wheels made me squeeze the two hot house tomatoes I had in my hand, nearly turning them into ketchup with my bare hands.
Now I would have to find out how to get back home.
Who could I approach? At the edge of the stand, an elderly couple fiddled with a giant orange squash. Closer, a young woman in a blue warm-up suit wearing white earbuds was fingering some cucumbers. I couldn’t be certain, but it was my guess that the man running the cash register didn’t speak much English. I didn't feel like telling complete strangers that you had ditched me on the side of the road. I may have sacrificed my self-respect with you, but that doesn't mean I had to give it up for everyone I came across. Reflexively, my palms hit my pants pocket, serving only to remind me that I’d left my cell phone in the car.
You bastard.
I set the tomatoes down as a phantom cell phone vibration made my thigh tingle.
I made my way out from under the wooden roof. The whoosh of an F150 doing at least 80 on that dusty two-lane road brought me back to my senses.
I know you too well by now to think you’re heartless.
It must be something else.
I started walking; I figured I could make our apartment in a couple hours, which was just enough time to pack before dusk. DFP
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