Meds? What’s he talking about? “Huh?”
“You must be on some kind of meds for whatever mental illness you have. You want me to walk all the way back down that fuckin’ ditch just to get your bag full of clothes and more stupid shoes?”
The nerve of this man! “Excuse me, but my laptop is in there, and it has all of my work on it, which I need for my meeting—”
“There’s no way in hell you’re getting to that meeting this weekend. Just sayin’.”
“I still need my things! I’m not leaving my personal stuff in the middle of nowhere out here!”
He lights up a cigarette, takes a long drag, and stares off into the woods. I start to see this is a pattern with him when he is thinking. “Fine!” he finally yells. “Just sit there and try not get into anymore accidents, okay? And don’t touch anything.”
I make a face at him behind his back as I watch him trudge back down the hill to my car. I am acutely aware of the humongous dog in the back seat breathing down my neck. I do not want to be alone in the truck with this animal, or his owner, or both of them. I can’t understand how this day went so wrong so fast! I should be at a posh hotel right now soaking in a nice hot bath and ordering room service, not sitting in a blizzard with this psycho and his obscenely huge dog. I snap down the sun visor and flip down the mirror so I can keep an eye on the dog behind me. I can see he is watching me in the mirror with his tongue hanging out. He seems to be smirking at me just like his master.
After what seems like eons later, I see Sasquatch walking back up to the truck, the snow swirling around him. He opens the truck door, throws my bags in, and gets in behind the wheel.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Are you sure you don’t want a latte? Maybe I could walk to Starbucks in this blizzard for you and get you a coffee?”
Actually, I could totally go for a nice hot White Mocha right now with some whipped cream and those little chocolate curls they put on top for the holidays.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I say to him. “Let’s just go.” I just want to get away from this sarcastic asshole and find a way to get to my hotel or back home as soon as possible. And now I really want White Mocha like yesterday.
He starts his truck and the engine roars. “My cabin is just about two miles up the road.” He turns the heat up higher. “Once we get there, we can call a tow truck for your car if the phones are working.”
“And what if the phones aren’t working?”
“Then I guess you’ll have to hang out until they are working or until they plow the roads enough for me to drive you to town.”
I let out a big aggravated sigh. “This day sucks.”
He nods his head in agreement. “A wicked lot.”
The snow is coming down so hard and fast, we can barely see out the windshield. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen such a bad snowstorm. I’m kind of glad in a twisted way my car got stuck because I can’t even imagine trying to drive myself in this snow right now.
We drive slowly in awkward silence, and suddenly, a deer jumps out from the woods on the side of the road right in front of the truck. I scream as Sasquatch swerves and the truck starts to slide and spin, gaining speed. He throws one arm across my chest to hold me against the seat as he tries to regain control of the truck, but it’s not working. I scream again as the truck flies off the road and into the woods, crashing downhill and plowing down small trees until it finally comes to a halt wedged amongst a bunch of larger trees on the side of a hill.
“Fuck!” He slams both his hands against the steering wheel. “I can’t fucking believe this shit!” He turns to me. “And why the fuck wasn’t your seatbelt on?”