The Exit

I hit the unlock button of my RAV4 repeatedly, getting increasingly more angry at every non response. "Fuck", I whispered loudly as I looked back into the hazy darkness that loomed pregnant with damp. Yellow flutters of pollen floated from the trees lingering in my peripherie, then down onto the moist grass. It felt nostalgic and familiar...as though made of some warm fairy snow. Even in desperate panic the beauty of it haulted my gaze on the placid water of the lazy farm pond. It seemed to gaze calmly back at me turning yellow as the little pods collected on it's surface. It was beautiful and still like a hypnotic painting.

I could hear him waking up even though it was more than a few hundred yards away where I'd left him. The sound of struggle has a tension to it, it bends the air and rustles the leaves. He was bound by bungee cords and unconscious when I'd made a run for it but i imagined him now, raging against his bonds. It quickened my pace. His mouth was gagged, his wrists bound and his legs tied so tight that I doubted he had circulation. I knew if I didn't kill him chances were he would escape ...I just needed to get to my car and I'd be free. I'd had bungee cords in my purse in anticipation of lashing the large peice of furniture I'd met him to acquire to the roof of my SUV.

"Free Antique Armoire", the add on craigslist boasted. It was exquisite. Victorian carved detailing still in pristine shape, no rot and few dents. It was a flippers dream....and for free?! Unbelievable. This should have served as a warning to it's validity. But as I learn every lesson, I learned this too the hardest way I could.

The contact info was a phone or text go ahead with the number attached. I texted obediently but when I didn't hear back immediately I impatiently called the same number hearing no answer nor voicemail prompt. The line just abruptly seemed to cut off without warning. I tried again and again getting more and more frustrated and jealous of whomever must be tying up the line stealing my precious piece. I glanced up at the time posted "only 6 minutes ago", "how could anyone have called faster?" "It has to be another flipper, this is an irresistible deal", I thought aloud. There was something strange about the number listed, the way it rang and cut off after only 6 rings made me think of a pay phone or party line. I turned back to my computer and scanned the ad again for any overlooked details. There! At the bottom just before the disclaimers read the address in small font. The map above had a red balloon marking it but when I clicked on it, it gave only approximate location. The anxst in my belly grew as the thought of someone snatching this away from me became unbareable. "Fuck it" I thought to myself. I grabbed my keys and a diet Coke from the fridge and headed out the door..."on second thought I'd better get a snack" I thought. The drive was relatively far and who knew how long it would take to load the thing up. If the guy answered...Josh I think it said...while I was on the road I'd have a head start on getting there and hopefully a head start on anyone else interested. If he continued to be unreachable I could stop at one of the many thrift stores along the route of small towns and country fill up station communities to find a new project or just head out to the address and knock on the door. People who posted their address rarely minded.

As usual, it took me several trips back into my house to fully supply myself with whatever imagined necessity of inumerable potentialities before leaving. I got in my car with a sense of finality and excitement for what lay ahead. I loved the open feeling of the beginning of an adventure. Who knew what lay ahead for me? Who knew what person I'd become along the length of my journey. We are a culmination of our life experiences and I was an absolute weirdo...this, one of my favorite philisophies, promised well for interesting futures.

I adjusted my rear view as I backed slowly out of my driveway and then "Shit!", slammed on my breaks as the blur of a person crossed my vision. The car met a thump and I blanched at the thought of having hit someone. "So much for adventure", I thought as visions of emergency rooms and police flashed through my head. "Yo snappy do", a deep voice jeered from out of sight.

I placed my car in park and hurried from my seat poised for horror as the prospect of a mangled cyclist loomed in my mind's eye. I looked down at my victim and laughed..."Joe!" I kicked his downed body at the leg and offered my arm to help my old friend up. "You dick!" I exclaimed. "You fucker!" "I thought I'd really hit someone." "Well, technically, you did", he said sheepishly looking down at his torn pants leg and skinned hands and knees. "Oh hush up you baby," I patronized, "you did that on purpose." "Did what?", He incredulously exclaimed the question. "Got run down by a madwoman?" I began to rib him more but stopped my words on my breath as I took into account his sad demeanor and slumped shoulders. His body was legitimately injured and when I stretched my neck to peer around him, I saw his grounded and bent bicycle. "Ohh.." I let out while my attitude shifted to that of apology and care. "Are you injured anywhere else?", "Can you bend your arms and legs?" "Your knees and toes?". "I'm so sorry" I lamented with as much sincerity as I could muster.

"No. I'm ok", he said not without adequate self pity. "I was coming by to see if you had a spliff you wanted to spark." He said this as though in possession of said weed. "Ummmmm ..." I was conflicted by my growing sense of being used by various droppers by in my life, my love for chatting with Joe and my desire to score this armoire. "I'm down." I said fervently, "but later". "I've got a killer deal I'm poaching off of Craigslist and I've got to hightail it to Bastrop like now to get it.