Red Flags

It's a relief when Rachel and the other girls decide they've stayed at happy hour too long. For almost 4 hours Hanna had listened to them tell her she should be dating more, not tying herself down to one guy so quickly, especially since her divorce from Jason isn't even final yet. Susan had even dared suggest that perhaps Scott, newly sober as he was, wasn't the best choice for Hanna during this time in her life. "I'm just saying," Susan had sad softly, her voice trailing off, "you are in a bit of a party mode these days, now that you have your own place again. If I were in Scott's shoes, well, dating someone who is out drinking most nights a week would be a big red flag for me."

Emma had been a bit kinder. "Look, you really should spend some of this time finding yourself again. What does Hanna like to do? What does Hanna want? You know? Wouldn't it be great to have some time for yourself before you turn 40?"

Hanna had forced herself to not get upset, to not roll her eyes, to not share what she was really thinking which was Hanna doesn't want to waste time on herself.

Awkward goodbyes and reassurances that she was leaving right behind them as soon as she finished this last drink and that yes, yes, she was find to drive out of the way, Hanna reaches for her phone. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up. Hanna silently pleads for at least the fifth time this evening, having snuck in other calls during trips to the bathroom.

"You've reached Scott's phone. Leave a message and," Hanna clicks the Stop button and slams her cell phone on the bar.

It's fine, it's fine. He's just busy with his family and catching up with people. He's not mad at me. God please don't let him be mad at me.

Desperate to stop the intrusive thoughts and untie her knotted stomach, Hanna catches the bartender's eye and forces her brightest smile. "Another double gin and tonic, please."

The young man keeps his expression blank as he reaches for the Tanqueray.

So maybe I'm a little older than you, and I look tired today, but would it kill you to flirt a little for a bigger tip? Hanna examines her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, sighs and quickly grabs her fourth drink of night. "Thanks," she says, smile much less bright than a moment ago.

Ding! Hanna eagerly grabs her phone at the text alert.

Hanna, I can't talk now. I haven't seen my parents in almost a year and I really just need this time with them. And honestly, I just don't want to talk to you right now. Please just give me some space and I will call you next week when I'm back in town. I hope you had a great happy hour with the girls. Get some rest.

Hanna skin prickles, her face flushes and she feels her heart speed up. Before she can talk herself out of it, she responds. Fine. Maybe just don't bother calling me. Enjoy your family time, if that's even who you are with.

Fuck! Instantly filled with regret, she dials Scott again. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please just fucking pick up already and let me fix this. "You've reached Scott's phone and I will call you back as soon as I can."

"Hey, hey baby," Hanna stammers nervously. "I'm sorry about the tone in that text. I just miss you and I'm so sorry about the other night. I hadn't eaten and that last drink just hit me hard and well, I'm sorry. I love you and I want to be with you and I know we can fix this. Have a great time and call me next week. I love you."

Okay. Okay that was good, Hanna, that was good. Now put your phone back in your purse and just relax and go home after this drink. And DO NOT call him tomorrow. It's going to be okay.

Ding! Did you seriously just call me again? I'm putting my phone away for the night. Please, let's just both use this time to get our own heads on straight, okay? I'm serious Hanna; I'm not going to do this right now.

"You look like you could use a shot," says a deep voice next to her, "or maybe several."

Hanna groans. That is the last thing I need right now. That and some random guy trying to hit on me. She looks up and notices the deep voice is attached to handsome face with a not-entirely-insincere smile.

"Have a shot with me, beautiful," says the voice again, "and tell me all your troubles."

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Several hours, many drinks and more than a few moments of his hand on Hanna's thigh later, the voice his name is Brian, Hanna, try to remember that, excuses himself to use the restroom before the bar closes. How is the bar closing already? What time is it? Shit I need to get home. Head swimming, Hanna uses the time to try Scott again. I don't care....do not care if you pick up or not or if I never talk to you agian. "You've reached Scott's phone, leave a message and I will call you back as soon as I can." Embolded by the drinks and Brian's attention, Hanna leaves a message this time, but she's not sure what she says. The sounds of other bar patrons clumsily saying their goodbyes and the juke box fill her ears. The bartender removes the empty glasses, wipes up Hanna's most recent spill of the night.

Suddently the voice, what was his name again? is back, deep and gorgeous, wet and irresistable in her ear. "Are you ready to go, beautiful? I don't have my car here, but my house is close, you're good to drive us?"

The young bartender glances nervously at Hanna, who expertly avoids eye contact with him, so now you want to pay attention to me, and instead grabs Brian's hand. "Of course let's go baby," she slurs.

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Someone is snoring. Someone is snoring in Hanna's dream because Hanna lives alone and Scott isn't at her house tonight because he's out of town. Oh shit, Scott. That isn't Scott. Hanna sits up in a panic. This isn't my bed, this isn't, oh shit. The man what was his name, why I am here? next to Hanna rolls over, his back now to her, snores punctuating the stale air. Fuck. Why, why didn't I just leave the bar when my friends did? Why do I always stay out so late? Panting, Hanna looks down and is slightly relived to see that while she is naked from the waist up, she is still in her jeans. Thank god, thank god. Okay, I have to get out of here now. Now now now now.

Fumbling in the dark in the strange room, Hanna finds her shirt and bra on the floor. Head pounding, she leaves the bedroom and stumbles into a cluttered, equally unfamiliar living room. Purse. Where is my purse and my keys and my phone oh god...Scott...where is my phone? Hanna hears more snoring and sees a large dog sleeping on an oversized couch, her purse and its contents strewn next to the intimidating canine. Trembling, she stuffs everything she sees into her bag and creeps toward the door. Shoes. Where are my shoes? She glances around the room but doesn't see the cute new heels she'd worn for the first time that night. The dog begins to stir. Shit. Panicked, feet bare, she eases out the door as quietly as possible, pulling it tight behind her.

Shes inside her car in seconds, hands and torso and legs all trembling as she turns the ignition and grabs for her phone. What time is it, it's still dark, how long was I there? Three missed calls from Scott. Crying she plays the first voicemail as she drives away, tires bouncing off the curb she had parked on. "Hanna," he sounds worried, okay, that's probably good right, "Hanna where are you? I'm sorry about the text earlier, okay, but this is just a lot right now. I'm worried about you. Please call me back."

The next voicemail sounds worried, but also angry. "Hanna. For God's sake where are you? You were slurring in that last message and I could hear people in the background. I thought you were just going to a short happy hour tonight. Please call me."

Panicked, Hanna calls him back, "Heeyyyy, uh, sorry so late, I uh," as she's trying to organize her thoughts why does her voice sound so thick? Hanna's phone dies.

Fuck! Why why why am I too stupid to remember to keep a charger in my car? Hanna throws the phone in the backseat, crying harder now. It's okay it's okay it's okay I will be home soon and can charge it then. Where am I? Several uncertain turns later, she sees an entrance ramp that looks familiar. Aha, I-70! Just a few miles this way and I will be home. Her stomach knots again. Why did I go home with that guy? It's okay, it's okay Hanna, you didn't sleep with him. You got lucky this time. You probably don't even have to tell Scott you can just say you got a little buzzed and took an Uber home and fell asleep. Hanna reaches for the radio to distract her and is scanning stations when she hears the first honk.

Wow that car was really close to me! Slow down! You shouldn't drive that fast at night. Then another car, and another car pass her, honking repeatedly, the third one veering into the other lane moment before almost hitting her head-on. What's going on? Why are they so close, why aren't they on the other side of the... Hanna looks across the meridian and sees two lanes of cars going the same direction as she is, which means...Shit oh shit oh shit exit I need an exit I need to get home I need ....

Hanna hears the sirens first, then sees the police lights, first approaching her from the front, then in her rear mirror. Flashing lights heading towards her, going the wrong way down the highway just like her, like dozens of red flags come to seek her out.