Page 46 of Check Me Out

There are books here that Joe could browse. Or he could doze on the comfortable loveseat in front of the fire. Hell, he could leave the room—he’s not a prisoner—and go back to the hotel without the damned dental floss.

He walks to the windows instead.

There are two of them, each roughly four feet square. They’re next to each other with a foot or so of wall between them, and they’re covered by heavy Roman shades the same green as the wall.

Joe is petrified at the idea of peeking through one of those blinds. Literally petrified: he can’t move his arms or legs and can’t even blink. Maybe he’d have more courage if Han were here.

It’s time for Joe to find some bravery on his own.

“The alarm blared and I turned it off and didn’t get out of bed right away,” he says aloud to the empty room. No, to himself. “I spent a good five minutes considering calling in. And then I got up. Showered, shaved, brushed, dressed. Brewed coffee and filled my travel mug. Not the one that looks like a camera lens that I like way better, but the boring gray one that I think looks more professional. I got in my car.”

His terror hasn’t lessened but he manages to take a step closer to the windows.

“I didn’t take my suitcase because I wasn’t going on a trip. Just into the office. I had meetings all day.” He remembers how, as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street, he was thinking about the difficulty he’d have in staying awake during those meetings and how he was going to need way more coffee.

“I got on the freeway. Traffic was crawling, of course. I struggled to keep my eyes open. Turned on the radio and tried to find good music, but all I could find were obnoxious morning shows. Does anybody really enjoy those?”

He takes another step and is now almost within reach of the window. His heartbeat is deafening in his ears. He doesn’t want to continue. He wants to sit down on the loveseat, wait for Han to return, and kiss him senseless when he does. But he knows it’s time to act.

“It was miserable driving like that. A couple of times I almost rear-ended someone because it took me a while to notice they’d stopped. Even when we got going faster, I was fighting myself. I knew I shouldn’t be driving like that. What if I caused an accident and killed someone?”

The sirens were much louder now and the pain was returning, now deep and heavy rather than sharp. Joe feels so tired that he can barely keep on his feet.

“My coffee mug was less than half full. I went to take a big swig… and the top fell off. I’d been so exhausted that I hadn’t screwed it on right. The coffee—it was still pretty hot—poured onto my chest and lap. I panicked. Fumbled the cup. Glanced up and saw brake lights in front of me. Yanked the steering wheel to the left….”

He’s at last able to take the final step to the window and raise his arm. He grasps the bottom of the nearest blind, lifts it, and peers through the glass:

the sickening crunch of metal

screams

pain

the world spinning and upside down

more pain, so much that he can’t possibly bear it

metal screaming too

blackness

shouts

sirens

red and blue flashing lights

pain so thick, so heavy he can’t breathe, can’t imagine anything but pain

oh god im dying

oh god im alone

oh god

Joe jerks his hand away from the blind, releasing it, and then collapses to the floor. He huddles back against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes squeezed shut. He’s on a business trip and really tired and disoriented from jet lag, and that’s all. Han will come with his dental floss, Joe will go back to the hotel, and in the morning he’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

He knows this isn’t true.

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