Margot breathed softly as she slid the cool key into the ignition. The dashboard clock illuminated the car, making her squint severely. 11:03 p.m. it read. She placed one hand on the back of the passenger seat and took one last glance around the cramped backseat of her tiny two-door. A paper bag filled with snacks sat on one seat adjacent to a faded, pink adidas bag stuffed with clothes. On the passenger seat were the sheets of paper, still warm, printed with varied maps and instructions from a multitude of internet navigational sites.
She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her worn-out sweater. It was cold, its plastic absorbing the temperature of the night air, as she turned the key all the way forward and felt the engine rumble, shaking her seat, while simultaneously pressing the five on her speed-dial. Thirty seconds, no answer. She wasn't disappointed; she had expected, maybe even preferred it this way.
Beeeep. "Hey baby, it's Mar. Work looks like it's gonna be pretty busy so I probably won't get off tonight. I already called Lex and he's gonna drop Jo off at school tomorrow so," she looked around as she paused, thinking of what to say next. "So, I'll call you sometime tomorrow night and talk about rescheduling. I love you."
She pressed the end button and set her phone in her lap. She shifted into reverse as a few strands of her dark hair fluttered into her eyes. It was not until Margot was at the end of her road that she remembered the task she had forgotten to take care of earlier.
"Shit," she breathed to herself, scavenging her lap and seat for her phone. She dialed another number while reaching over to turn the heat up.
"North Atlanta County General Hospital, can I help you?" an unenthusiastic southern drawl answered.
"This is Margot Rush, I'm calling in to say I'm taking a personal day tomorrow. I'm scheduled from six to four for walk-ins."
"Alright, I'll document it. Thank you."
The line was dead before Margot could reply. She sighed as she thought about the flak she'd receive from the others upon return to the hospital on Wednesday.
Oh well, I'm not going to turn back she said to herself. The ride as she left town was smooth. None of the stoplights had been red and traffic was light this late at night. Margot reached over to pick up one of the papers. Twelve hours and seventeen minutes, the bottom read. The evening was to be boring, seemingly endless, but the nervousness in Margot's stomach now wasn't from the thought of the drive. It was from the thought of the destination.
She breathed deeply and stared straight ahead onto the dark road through her deep, oceanic blue eyes. The blue was thoughtful and so dark that a passerby would never be able to distinguish the color from a muddy black. Margot had a simple beauty. Her skin was bright ivory and clear. It glowed in the moonlight. Her hair was dark and hung down to the middle of her back with soft curls at the bottom and wispy baby bangs circling her jaw. Her face was long, with thin lips and deep set eyes behind strong, dark brows. She was thin, with a short torso and lanky legs. Margot had never been much of an object of desire, tending to be more of an introverted tomboy when she was young. She took time to grow into her looks, though, and this made her wise regarding the charm she now possessed.
She was fidgety and desperately scanned her interior for a distraction. Finding nothing, she reached out a thin finger for the radio dial. Full-volume static came on. She made a sour face and quickly turned the volume down, consoling her ear. She flicked the switch, searching for something palatable.
She blew quickly past the girly pop and heavy rap stations and settled on something a little more classic.
Her eyes closed briefly as she started onto the quiet highway filled with tiny bright lights and listened to the music from her speakers.
Under the boardwalk
Down by the sea, yeah
On a blanket with my baby
Is where I'll be
The next part is what goes into the memory of the summer house which I posted the beginning of in a blog a while ago. I'll post it again when it is edited.
And my next book is about Russian whores.
You tease. Flashing a little upper thigh and walking away.
ReplyDelete