Page 63 of Who I Really Am

Marco

We’re not exactly in a rush, but I don’t like parking along a freeway, albeit a relatively lightly traveled one. Still, I wait until Annalise seems ready to move on, yet even then she balks a little when I open the door for her. I remember when I was having my panic attacks, claustrophobia wasn’t my issue per se, but when the attacks struck, I needed to move, my instinct almost to outrun them. As if.

I touch her shoulder. “It’s alright. Just tell me if you need to stop. Only, promise me if we do, you won’t run out into traffic. That would be bad.” I flash her a grin.

Well, the dirty look is better than what I’ve been getting, and I’m happy to think she’s still got some spunk left in her. And at least she gets in the truck.

It was a panic attack, I know it was. Had to be. If I’m wrong? What if I’m wrong and it happens again out here in the middle of nowhere and it’s her heart or something equally critical? Tripp would never forgive me.

I thump the wheel. So help me, I don’t care what Tripp thinks. I’m going to have to remember that. The real problem isIwouldn’t forgive me.

The silence as the miles tick off isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but the day is growing long, especially after the night I had. When I ask if music is okay, I get a mumbledsure.I don’t know if it’s asure, it’s goodor asure, because I don’t have the energy to argue.

I opt for the former but leave the volume only high enough to be heard above the road noise.

∞∞∞

My stomach growls. Annalise must be hungry too, but when I suggest stopping, she shuts me down. A healing body requires sustenance, however, so I push a little myself, taking silence as my answer when she tells me to do whatever I want, she’ll stay in the truck, thank you very much.

Not doing that, but when we get another thirty miles down the road, I make an executive decision. “We should stop for the night.”

“No! I just want to get there.”

Interesting, sincethereis a place she’s never been with people she knows even less than she knows me. More, I can’t help but wonder how this little-rich-girl is going to take to her waiting accommodations. “You do realize we’ve got nearly four hundred miles to go?”

Her eyes bug. “But we’ve been driving all day.”

I click my tongue. “The Lone Star State is a big ’un. Haven’t you ever been out this way?”

“Not really.”

“Well, city girl, you’re about to see more nothingness than you ever knew existed.” I find a rhythm with my fingers on the wheel and bust out in an affected bass an old song about the vastness of Texas.

She squint-glares at me. I don’t blame her. When I was thirteen and my voice was changing, my mom ordered me to quit singing in church. Things never improved.

Bringing her thumb to her lips, she starts gnawing. I guess picking wasn’t doing enough damage. Her hands are shaking again. The lady needs food and sleep, lots of it for an effective recovery.

“Keep your eye out for a motel.”And make it cheap.

“No! We need to keep driving.”

“We?” I draw one eyebrow down in a scowl, but I’m only funning. Mostly. “Sorry, but after the night I had, I’m teetering on the verge of unsafeas it is.”

“At least you didn’t have nurses and lab techs coming in, turning on lights and sticking you with needles all night.”

“No, but I bet your hospital bed was a whole lot more comfy than the cot in my cell.” I was not planning on telling her about last night, but I’m beginning to hear mildly labored breathing again.

She gasps, gapes. “You were in jail last night?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my gosh. What happened?”

Now, see. This is why Annalise is my favorite Walker. With her it’swhat happenednotwhat did you do.

“Well, let’s see. I believe the charges were vagrancy and suspicion of DUI, plus a warrant for unpaid parking tickets. Oh, and grand theft auto too.” I roll her a look.

She folds her arms, huffy. “You’re teasing me.”

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