Miss Me; When I'm Gone (editing)

CHAPTER 4 (Blair)

Blair

This day could not get any more humiliating. Travis had turned up the radio for the rest of the ride to the hospital. He hadn't said another word I knew he was either angry or frustrated. I was keeping him from a woman, but id tried to let him go. He just wouldn't listen to me.

Once we were at the ER, he got me a soda, while we waited, even though I told him I didn't need one. By the time they took me back for the stitches, we had said all of five words to each other. I wanted to tell him to leave again and that id get a cab, but I was afraid he'd snap at me. Id didn't know this man. I had no clue what he was capable of.

When they had given me a shot, Travis had held my other hand and told me to squeeze if I needed to. What did that even mean? Was he trying to ease the pain? It was just a shot. When they had stitched up my gash, which needed five stitches, he'd continued to hold my hand. He had told me jokes. They were corny, but I'd laughed.

I didn't think anyone had ever tried to make me laugh before. I knew it wasn't the first time I'd ever been told a joke that wasn't about me. In school, I had heard enough jokes, but I had been the butt of them all.

Now he was pulling up in front of my apartment. He hasn't spoken to me during the entire drive. He'd looked like he was going to say something more than once, but he stopped himself. Eventually, he'd turned up the radio again, and I knew that meant he was done talking to me.

I couldn't be hurt over his silence. He had put off his date or girlfriend to take me to the hospital and get stitches. During the whole thing, he'd been so nice-more than that, actually, he had been kind. But now his mind was on his sweetheart, the girl who was waiting for him.

I had been called "babe", "sugar" and "hot mama" in the past, which still makes me cringe. I had also been called other less desirable names, but never "sweetheart." I wondered what that must feel like. To have someone speak to you that way and mean it. To know he wasn't going to hurt you. When he parked the truck, I knew I had to thank him again, and send him on his way.

"Thankyou again for taking me, and for the soda, and for... for, um, holding my hand, I really appreciate it. I'm sorry if I ruined your day. And ill be back to clean up on Sunday. I don't have another house booked that day and you're leaving then...right?"

Travis sighed and looked at me.
"Yeah, I'm heading home Sunday. At least that's the plan right now. But don't worry about the house until your hand is better. De won't be back for another month. She's in Italy."

Italy. Wow. I couldn't imagine going somewhere like Italy. I wondered what this De looked like. If she was his sister, I imagined she was beautiful.

"Okay thanks." I said again, unable to stop thanking him. I grabbed my backpack and opened the truck door.

"Wait. Let me help you down," Travis said, stopping me. He had done this every time I got into or out of the truck. It was as if he didn't think I could just hop down on my own without hurting myself. But then again, after what he had witnessed today, he probably thought I was a klutz.

He was in front of me, holding out his hand again for me to take. I let him help me, because I was sure it was the last time I'd see this man. He didn't realize it, but he'd given me hope. And he'd shown me that not all men were evil. I bit my tongue from thanking him again. Instead, I just nodded and headed for my apartment; 1C.

"Blair," Travis called out, stopping me in my tracks. I turned to look back at him. The sun was setting behind him, and I was sure nothing had ever been quite that perfect in all of history.

"You didn't ruin my day," was all he said before opening his truck door and climbing back up. I wanted to watch him drive away. But I didn't.

The next morning, my hand was throbbing. But I took the antibiotic and pain medicine the doctor had given me and got ready for work. I had another house to clean that day in Miami Place. Owen had gotten me this one, because he was friends with the owners. I wasn't about to let him down and call in sick. Owen was standing outside my door with two to-go cups of cappuccino, smiling.

He wasn't just nice, he was gorgeous. And he knew it. It was odd that I didn't think of him as a regular guy, though. He was more like my very first girlfriend. I'd told him that once, and he cackled with laughter. He also had a cappuccino machine in his apartment. I was beginning to love that machine.

"Good morning, gorgeous. Here's your wake up juice," he said, handing me the cup. I started to reach for it with my bad hand and stopped myself. I used my good hand, but Owen's eyes were already locked on my bandaged hand.

"Girl, what the hell happened to you?"

I sighed, hating to remember the mess I'd made yesterday.

"I fell while cleaning a window and broke a mirror on the way down, and sliced open my hand."

I didn't want to give him details. I help up my bandaged hand.

"Five stitches. The owner's brother gave me a ride to the hospital."

Owen winced. "Ouch. You sure you can clean a house today? That's got to hurt."

"I'm fine. I'll be a little slower, but you can bet I won't be standing on chairs anymore to clean windows."

I joked. He didn't grin, just shook his head.

You are one piece of work, Blair Louize. Come on lets get your hot ass o the Carter's. I also have a number for you to call. Jessica Stevenson is a close friend of mine, and she's interested in hiring a new house cleaner. The one she has now is retiring, and she wants someone young. She's got a little tike. It was getting hard for their cleaner to handle his messes. Kid's cute as a button though." I took the number he handed me.

"Call her, she's a doll. You'll love her."

Another job I was getting without using the agency. This was good. I got to keep all the income from clients I found on my own.

"Thankyou Owen," I said tucking the number into my pocket.
"I'll call her once my hand is better. I don't want to show up at her house with a bandaged hand."

Owen grinned, and his angel face showed even brighter.

"She's actually Karleah Peterson's sister-in-law, for all intents and purposes.

That didn't really make sense. What did he mean for all intents and purposes? I figured it didn't matter. Besides I really liked Mrs. Peterson. She was there often when I cleaned, because she had a baby, so I had spoken to her several times. She always tried to get me to stop and gave lunch with her. I was sure I'd be happy working for her sister-in-law too.
"I have to work a fundraiser benefit tonight at the club. I won't be done until one in the morning. Wish you'd take a cab home. Especially with that bum hand of yours. After cleaning at the Peterson's, you're going to be tired. And probably hurting."

We had this discussion everyday when he had to work late. He always wanted me to take a cab home, but we lived only eight miles from the club, right outside Miami Place and back a few roads inland. I had walked to school, the library, and the grocery store my entire life. I was used to walking to get to places. If I wanted to go somewhere, I had to walk.

I could probably afford a car now, but I couldn't pass the written test. I had asked my mother to help me once, and it had been a terrible mistake. She'd made sure I understood that lazy, stupid people shouldn't drive cars. It was dangerous to everyone else. I had tried twice now to read the study guide for the written test, but it was no use. The words never made sense to me. Which was how I knew that my mother and stepfather and all the kids at school had been right; I was stupid.

I had to be. My brain didn't work the way everyone else's did. I am twenty-two, and still go to the library and get picture books and tried to read them.

"I bet Karleah would give you a ride after work, if you'd just ask her. Hell I'll ask her. People don't get any sweeter than Karleah Peterson."

I was not asking her to drive me home.

"It's okay. I'll think about calling a cab. I promise."

I said to him, knowing that I would think about it but wouldn't do it.