plate number for my insurance company to find him and his insurance company.
I watch as he locates what he’s looking for, a small notebook and a pen. He’s writing in the notebook as he comes toward me again, balancing it on his hand. He rips the notepage off and hands the paper with frayed edges to me. “You can do whatever you like, but I’m hoping you’ll let me pay you directly for the damage. I’ll pay for a rental car, too, if you need one while your car is being repaired.”
I glance at the paper in my hand. He’s written down a name, Ryan Miller--his name, I assume--and a telephone number. I look up at him. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”
He runs his fingers through his hair again. Dark cowlicks wave in all directions.“I have insurance, but this is obviously my fault, and I’d prefer not to have my rates raised.”
I study him closer. His hair and clothes are a mess, and he is a bad driver--or at least a distracted one--but beneath it all, I realize he’s a very good-looking guy. He has high cheekbones, a straight aquiline nose, and a shadow of a beard. His tired eyes are an odd golden shade of brown beneath dark slashes of brow. He appears exhausted and annoyed with himself, but earnest enough. “We can try it your way,” I offer, knowing it’s easy to contact his insurance company if he’s being less than honest.
“Good. Thanks,” he says, looking relieved.
“Are your insurance rates high from being in a lot of accidents?” I inquire.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Not yet. Although the way things are going, that’s a real possibility.”
I eye him inquisitively.
“I’m pretty sleep-deprived these days,” he explains. “Some friends and I have been trying to get a business off the ground and, well, it’s a lot of long hours.” He shrugs as his voice trails off.
“Maybe you should stay off the roads until you can get a good night’s sleep?” I suggest. “You might find yourself in more than a fender bender next time.”
“Other drivers sharing the road with me would certainly be better off.” He grins. “Well, I’d better let you be on your way. I’ll stay a few hundred yards back this time. In fact, I’ll give you a five-minute head start.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I say, feeling a smile forming.
“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll wait to hear from you.” He starts to turn away and stops. “Wait, what’s your name?”
I hesitate, remembering Bryn’s serial killer comment from earlier. Then I figure offering my first name probably isn’t too risky. “Andrea.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Andrea.”
“He said ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you’?” my sister Laura asks me later on the telephone.
“Strange thing to say when I’m going to be calling to get money for the accident he caused.”
“Maybe he likes you,” she offers.
“Maybe he had no idea what he was saying. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. I was tempted to offer him a ride so he wouldn’t get back behind the wheel.”
“I can’t believe you were in another accident. You’ve got some bad car karma going on.”
I’m sitting on the floor in my living room--the telephone tucked between my neck and shoulder--surrounded by papers, attempting to organize my software feature data for work. Perhaps if I were more organized, I would be less confused by the conflicting information with which I had to work. This endeavor is made even more challenging by Tiger, who is leaping onto the scattered papers, enjoying the crunching sounds he’s producing. I grab him off the papers and pull him onto my lap. His green eyes peer up at me in adoration as his purring reflex kicks in. But then he remembers the papers and squirms out of my lap. Crunch, crunch, crunch….
“What is that noise?” Laura asks.
“Tiger is helping me finish some work.” I try to gather up the now wrinkled papers.
“Has Tiger decided to try his paw at marketing?”
“I wish. It really is time for him to go out and get a job. Something that doesn’t require opposable thumbs.”
Laura laughs. “So tell me--what happened with Derek?”
I groan into the phone.
“Was it that bad?”
“It was beyond bad.” Then I proceed to describe our afternoon together.
“Ooo that’s disgusting!” she squeals. “And he made a move on you in the middle of all that. How could he be so clueless?”
Thinking about that smell and those bugs again makes me just want to change the subject.