barely stand still as I watch. He moves as if he has lead in his shoes.
“God damn, can this day get any worse?” I say, under my breath.
It’s as if the cosmos heard me. My phone rings in my pocket. Dying for anything to distract me from this horrible wait, I answer it without even looking at who’s calling.
”Hey, baby,” Felicia says.
“Hey. Are you on your way?”
“Um. Actually, I'm in trouble and I need your help. I’m stranded. I have a flat tire.” The sound of cars passing in the distance lets me know that she’s telling the truth. Felicia can be a bit dramatic sometimes, so you never know. Fighting back a sigh, I find out where she is and tell her I’ll be on my way as soon as possible.
“So, I have you already paid for and you should be good to go,” the tow truck driver says. “Great,” I say, all but snatching the keys from his hand. I feel like such a dick, but I’m really wound up, and not in a good way.
“Is there anything else you need?” I ask, massaging the keys between my fingers.
“No, that’s it, let me just move my truck and you can be on your way.” I watch as Tommy makes his way back to the truck, a feat that should only take all of ten seconds from where he was standing on the sidewalk to his open door. He slides his feet as he moves, the sound of his shoes dragging along the asphalt causing me to cringe. And then he stops in front of his open door and looks at his phone. I swear to God I almost yell at him.
I quickly move to my car and start the ignition, hoping this triggers him to move his old ass out of the way before I have another reason to be late to my meeting. Finally, he slides into his vehicle and pulls away. I back out of my spot and speed out of the complex.
“God, I hate cars,” Felicia says, standing in front of her white BMW. Clearly, I was wrong. This day could get worse and it just did. Felicia and I have been arguing for the last week about the most random stuff. Another telltale sign that this arrangement we have needs to come to an end soon. I have fourteen minutes to make it back to Prof. Satchi’s office and have been wondering if I should insist she leave her car and let me come back later to fix her flat or if I should do it now like a good boyfriend. I shake out my hands, cramped from the death grip I’ve had on the steering wheel the entire ride over here.
“Holy shit, what did you do?” I say, looking down at her car. It’s definitely more than just a flat tire. “Did you hit something?” She looks down at her nails as she takes something imaginary from beneath one of them, not looking at me. I reach through her opened back window and grab my bag from her back seat, ensuring my ID tag is in the front pocket where I left it.
“Well, I did get a little close to the curb before I left the salon, but the car did fine until I got here.” Her rim is completely bent and will need a tow.
“Okay, fine. We gotta go. I have to be at school.” I slide the ID card into my front pocket and walk past her toward my car. She huffs, rolling her eyes and opening the door to the front seat. I take one last glance at the vehicle, wondering how the hell she made it out of the parking lot of the salon, much less down the street before her tire exploded. It's ridiculous.
“So tonight, I think we should go to the movies. Oh, and check out that new bar, Genk’s, It's a jazz bar that a few people in my lit class were talking about. Apparently they have half-off drinks and I could sure go for a Margarita right about now.”
“We can't tonight,” I say, pulling into traffic and speeding down the road toward the entrance to the highway. I only have to go down three exits, drop her off at home since she clearly can’t drive herself, then spin around and head back to the school. I should still get there right on time. I hope that Professor Satchi won’t be upset about that. Lord knows