Backed Redux … Chapter 4

I woke up to the car swerving and Seth yelling at a fellow driver. Outside, was white-out conditions, and we were travelling at about 20 miles an hour. “What’s going on?” I asked.
           
“I’m calling it,” Seth said. “Next exit we get to, I’m stopping at a hotel. I was hoping to drive through this but it’s ridiculous. And some idiot just tried to run me off the road.”
           
A lifetime of living in Cleveland and I had never gotten good, or comfortable, driving in snow. I was glad Seth was behind the wheel because I would not have gotten as far. “Thank you for not making me take over,” I said.
           
“Nobody should be out in this shit,” he said. Signs appeared for an exit one mile in the distance, but I didn’t recognize the location.
           
“Where are we anyway?” I asked.
           
“Just outside Cedar Rapids,” he said. “Should be plenty of options.”
           
Of course he was right. As we crept along, more signs indicated there were also fast food restaurants, a local diner, and gas stations at our exit. Seth pulled into the first hotel we came to. The parking lot looked full, however, and as I watched him walk in, I was not hopeful about our chances for a room.
           
Several minutes later, he returned and backed out of the spot without a word. “Any luck?” I asked.
           
“Huh? Yeah, but we have to pull around back for the closest entrance.”
           
“Oh.”
           
We grabbed our suitcases but nothing else, I noted, and went inside. Our room was on the second floor, but close to the entrance. There were two double beds for which I was grateful. Seth threw his duffle on the far one. “Do you care which bed you get?” he asked.
           
“Huh-uh,” I replied. I hovered on the far side of my bed, near a round table with two chairs, and chewed my bottom lip.
           
“What?” he asked.
           
“I guess I’m waiting to see what you’re going to do,” I said with a shrug.
           
“Oh, I see,” he said as he approached me. A wry grin appeared, and he placed his hand on his back pocket. “Can I still trust you?”
           
“Sure.”
           
“Tell me.”
           
He stood directly in front of me now, every intimidating inch of him. “I promise,” I whispered.
           
“What are you promising?” he asked.
           
“Jesus,” I muttered. “I promise I won’t try to get away or sabotage you or whatever else you suspect me of. Happy?”
           
“Very,” he said and stepped closer. His eyes twinkled. “In fact, I thought both of us could use a little help relaxing.”
           
I tried to back up, certain there must be a misunderstanding, and ran into the table. “What are you saying?” I asked.
           
“Come here,” he said and pulled me up for a kiss. I stood on tiptoes while the rest of me melted away. This was what I had wanted for the past year, what I had thrown away because what? He wouldn’t open up to me? It all seemed so silly and inconsequential.
           
And then his hand moved up to my neck and grabbed my hair. I snapped out of my revelry and right back into the present. “No … I can’t,” I said as I pushed him away. “I’m sorry.”
           
Seth blinked at me, even less sure of what to make of my outburst than I was. “No problem,” he said and turned toward the bathroom. I wondered if he was going to jerk off in there.
           
“I’m sorry – shit,” I called after him. “I thought I wanted it too. I – ”
           
“It’s not a big deal,” he said before he disappeared behind a closed door.
           
Hanging my head, I collapsed on my bed, palms first. “What the hell, brain?” I muttered. All I was sure of was that I had started to panic, and didn’t know why. He hadn’t forced me, hadn’t acted like the pleasure wouldn’t be reciprocated. It had been a hellish day – why not relieve some of the pressure, right?
           
By the time he returned – and it wasn’t long, certainly not long enough for anything elicit – I was sitting on the edge of the bed facing him. I chewed my bottom lip again.
           
“You alright?” he asked.
           
“Sure,” I nodded. “I’m sorry though. Honest – ”
           
“My god,” he said as he sat down across from me. “You were barely this apologetic after trying to steal my money. Turning down sex is hardly in the same league.”
           
“There can be similar consequences though,” I told him.
           
He removed his sweater and tossed it over by his duffle behind him. “Not from me,” he said.
           
“Thanks,” I said and surprised myself at the sentiment. He shouldn’t be getting cookies for not raping me, I thought. Even if it was the second time in less than 24 hours.
           
Seth ran a hand through his hair, then turned down the blankets. “Something else on your mind?” he asked.
           
“A lot of things,” I admitted. “Mostly that I feel like I already had a nap and now I’m not that tired.”
           
“Turn on the tv if you want,” he said and tipped his chin toward the flat screen that sat on a dresser in front of the beds.
           
“Are you one of those people who can sleep through anything?” I asked.
           
“If I fall asleep while it’s on, I’ll be fine,” he replied and picked up his phone from the nightstand between us. “Just keep in mind that I will want to be up and out of here early.”
           
“Gotcha.”
           
He sat back against the headboard and dialed a number. As he waited, he drew his arm up over his head, and I admired the lines of his body. Lines I could have been exploring myself if my brain hadn’t sabotaged me.
           
“Hey, Nat,” he said. “Can you do me a favor and check on Paul’s flights for me? … Oh really?” He laughed at something this Nat person had said. “That’s great … keep me updated alright? … Thanks.”
           
He snapped the phone shut and met my eyes with a big, goofy grin.
           
“Who was that?” I asked.
           
“Nat?” She’s one of the people I met with this morning. Paul is, as she put it, in ‘layover hell’,” he said. “Stuck in Chicago due to weather and they keep delaying the flight by an hour or two at a time, so he’s not going anywhere.”
           
“You mean we’re actually ahead of him?” I asked.
           
“For now,” he said and shut off the light that shone over his bed.
           
I did the same with my light and never did bother with the tv. Instead, I crawled under the blankets to contemplate the day’s events. It had certainly been the strangest roller coaster ride of my life, and I had a lot to sort through.
           
Before drifting off, however, I realized what had really gone “wrong” with Seth earlier. My eyes snapped open and I stared at the ceiling. All the things I had wanted Seth to do to me – and had started to picture him doing – he had already done for real. He’d choked me, slapped me, and tied me up. On any other night, that would have been foreplay.
           
But now I couldn’t separate the fantasy from the reality. He hadn’t been playing the night before. Hell, he hadn’t been playing earlier in the day. My thoughts spiraled as I replayed the events of the trip and our arguments so far.
           
And I wondered what the new day would bring.
…
            My eyes blinked open at the sound of Seth closing the zipper on his duffle bag. He was already dressed, and the bathroom light illuminated him from behind. “Hey,” I croaked. “What time is it?”
           
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It faced his bed more than mine. “Just after 5,” he replied. “The storm is past and I want to get on the road.”
           
It occurred to me then that he might leave me in the hotel. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Okay.”
           
“I’m going to clear off the car – they’re supposed to have a continental breakfast downstairs too, so I’ll grab us some bagels and coffee for the road,” he said. As he spoke, he grabbed his overcoat from the nearby chair and heaved his bag over his shoulder. “I want you ready to go when I get back.”
           
“Okay,” I yawned.
           
Seth placed his hands on his hips and regarded me an extra second. “This might be a good time for a ‘yes, Sir.’”
           
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” I told him. “Oh, and can you see if there’s a vending machine instead? I’m not really a coffee person.”
           
“What do you want?” he asked.
           
“Anything brown and caffeinated,” I replied.
           
“I’ll look,” he said and opened the door to leave. I didn’t even have time to thank him.
           
As I stood and stretched, I found muscles screaming that I hadn’t even realized existed before. The mental stress, along with the physical action of the previous day, had taken a toll, and I looked forward to being under the hot spray of the shower.  
 
Thank all the gods that no one – especially Seth – could hear the sounds I made in that shower. I must have sounded like I was having an orgasm. I took somewhat longer than what seemed reasonable, sure I could simply put my hair in a ponytail and throw on whatever was on top in my suitcase.
 
It's not like I had to look good for anyone.
 
But I also took the time to think. Some of the same thoughts that had swirled around the day before returned under the steam. So much had already changed. I didn’t really miss home, I realized. I missed the familiarity of my usual routines, and the imaginary ideal of what ‘home’ could be. But that familiarity hadn’t made me happy and my routines were taking me nowhere.  It was time to take my chances somewhere else. I leaned against the shower wall and cursed myself for every mistake I’d ever made. I tried to cry but seemed to be out of tears.
 
Instead, I stepped out of the bathroom, grateful Seth hadn’t yet returned, and felt more vulnerable and fragile than I could ever remember feeling before. If he looked at me sideways, I was sure I would break down.
 
When the door opened again, I was wearing jeans and a bra, but was otherwise packed and ready. Seth nodded toward my suitcase. “Wear the same top as yesterday,” he said.
 
I took a step back, away from him. As if that might save me from his wrath. “Why?” I asked, my voice shaking.
 
“Because I said so,” he said as he walked past me. He turned on the bathroom light, presumably to make sure we hadn’t left anything, then returned to me and drew a bottle of pop from his coat. “Oh, and here.”
 
“Thanks,” I said and cracked the cap. “Are you going to handcuff me again?”
 
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe I just need you to know it’s an option.”
 
“Right,” I muttered. The sweatshirt had landed on top of everything else in the suitcase. I threw it on, replaced it with the one I had been planning to wear, and zipped it closed. Only then did I realize he had already taken his duffle to the car and that he had brought back bagels for us. He grabbed those from the table, and we were off.
 
But once again, I could barely eat. So I tore off bits of bagel and nibbled.
 
“You get paid today, right?” Seth asked. “Is it direct deposit?”
 
I’d been so deep in thought, I’d barely heard him. “What? Oh, yeah. On both counts,” I said.
 
“What time does the money usually arrive in your account?” he asked.
 
“Well, it’s usually there by the time I get to work,” I said with a shrug. “So, sometime between midnight and 8 a.m.”
 
Seth nodded. “Okay. That might have to wait until after we find Paul then.”
 
He seemed to speak more to himself than to me, and I eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not actually going to get any of that money, am I?” I asked. “I mean from my paycheck, that is.”
 
“Of course you will,” he said. “But we know where that is. And it will still be there in a few days’ time. The same cannot be said for my money. The reason we’re on this little adventure, remember?”
 
“Of course,” I muttered. And just as I had suspected, that was all it took. I began to cry quietly, staring out the side window.
 
“Did something happen while I was out of the room earlier?” Seth asked.
 
“No,” I said as I wiped my eyes. “I was just thinking. Probably overthinking actually. About what I would normally be doing at this time of day, and how I’d normally be looking forward to the weekend.”
 
“Do you think this is what I want to be doing with the next few days?” he snapped.
 
Even I knew the answer to that one, but I couldn’t say it without far more sarcasm than he would appreciate. “At least you know what you’re doing though,” I said. My voice rose as I continued “You know where we’re going and what to do. Me, I’ve just given up my entire life and everything that’s familiar to me. I’m in unchartered territory for me! But you don’t care about that do you?”
 
Another mirthless chuckle. He was really good at those. “I actually care far more than you would think,” he replied. “But I also understand why that doesn’t appear to be the case. And to prove that, I need to know something.”
 
“What?” I asked.
 
“I’m not normally one for hypotheticals. I find them pointless,” he explained. “But let me ask you this – what would you have done if you had gotten that call from Paul that you were expecting? Or the text, or whatever? Would you have contacted me? Warned me somehow or, heaven forbid, fess up? Because I’m betting that wasn’t on your to-do list.”
 
None of that had occurred to me. I had had no plan at all. “I – I don’t know,” I said quietly.
 
“Did I really seem like that easy of a mark to you? That I wouldn’t come after one or both of you?” he yelled. “Was I somehow supposed to be okay with losing this much money?”
 
“What do you want me to say?” I yelled back. “Huh? I didn’t know how much it was. Otherwise, I don’t have a good answer, alright? I didn’t think this through, alright? What more can I say?”
 
“You really need slapped more often,” he said. “As to your real question, what I want is for you to behave like a goddamn adult and take responsibility for what you’ve done. You want to blame Paul and say he ran away with this idea, great. But you gave him the idea, Dani. You. He didn’t come up with this by himself. That’s all on you. And until I get some inkling that you give a shit about any of that, it’s going to feel like I don’t give a shit about you.”
 
He didn’t need his knife to cut me, or his fists to wound me. The tears were instant and overwhelming. There was no blinking these back or pretending. All I could do was turn toward the window so he couldn’t see me.
 
“Do you think you’re the first person to cry in my car?” he asked. “Because I assure you that you’re not.”
 
“God, I don’t care!” I yelled. Or tried to yell. My voice cracked and I couldn’t get any volume through the tears. More frustrated than ever, I simply hung my head. After several minutes, I somehow managed to pull myself together. “I just – it’s too much, okay? It’s all just too much.”
 
“Please tell me you’re talking about the guilt and shame,” he said.
 
“Fuck you,” I muttered and continued sobbing. But it quickly became apparent I would need his help. “Shit – pull over. Please, I – ”
 
“What is it?” he asked as he slowed down. Thankfully, we were in the right lane already and there weren’t many cars on the road. There wasn’t even daylight yet.
 
“I’m going to be sick,” I told him.
 
He pulled over to the shoulder, and I had my door open before he’d come to a complete stop. All the contents of my stomach ended up on the gravel.
 
From the corner of my eye, I could see Seth reaching for something in the back. Only when I sat back up, still catching my breath, did I see him hold out one of the bottles of water. “Feel better?” he asked.
 
“Not really,” I breathed.
 
He settled back in the seat, and something about his posture made him look like he thought we were in for a long wait. I took a swig from the bottle. “No, I mean … my stomach is fine. It’s … it’s the rest of me. I don’t think there’s anything left anyway.”
 
“I’m surprised there was that much,” he said.
 
I took another drink and nodded my agreement. “Seriously, we can go,” I said. “I don’t want to hold you up.”
 
“You sure?” he asked.
 
“Yeah.” As he put the car in gear and prepared to re-enter the highway, I couldn’t help staring at him in awe. “How do you do it? Are you bipolar or something?”
 
“What does that mean?”
 
“I mean, one minute you don’t care and the next you’re being legitimately kind,” I said. “What gives?”
 
“I don’t believe in being inhumane,” he said. “I’m only cruel when the situation calls for it.”
 
Hard to argue with that. “Thanks for this, by the way,” I said, holding up the bottle.
 
“I hate that aftertaste,” he replied.
 
“Me too.”
 
“Get some rest,” he told me. “I’ll be asking you to take over later.”
           
With one last, extended swig, I finished off the bottle, then laid my head back. I was out within minutes.
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