The Stranger

The Stranger

The rain pounded incessantly on my windshield. The dark of night surrounded me as I struggled to concentrate on the road before me. I reached for the knob of the stereo, and increased the volume. I did this with hope that the noise would keep my heavy eyelids from closing. As I approached the hazy red light before me, I cautiously came to a stop. At first I thought the sound of the screeching brakes was coming from my blaring speakers. I did not comprehend the actuality of the sound until it was too late.

The vehicle struck me from behind and I was jolted forward. It took me a few seconds to realize what had occurred. I was in some state of shock, though not for the reasons one might imagine. I truly had no thought or concern for myself or any bodily damage I may have. Instead, I was distraught over the condition of another body...the body of my boyfriend’s brand new, beautiful blue pickup truck. I couldn’t even cry. All I could do was sit there, staring at nothing at all, sure of the death that would surely be mine once the owner set his eyes upon it.

It took me a moment to ascertain the presence of someone...standing, knocking loudly on my window. Slowly, I rolled it down, ready to express my sincere grief and pain to whoever had done this damage. But then...I saw her face. And try as I might, I could not protest. There was something about her, something which fascinated me. “Hi”, she said, as though I had nothing to fear. “Sorry about your truck and everything. Honestly, I just wasn’t paying attention, I guess.” I still had not uttered a single word, but she went on. “Really, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” Her large, hazel eyes gazed quite innocently into my own. “Obviously, you must be seriously shaken up about this, but you’re fine, right? Let’s pull over. I happen to know the perfect place, somewhere you can breathe easy.” I had no idea why I found myself following someone whose name I did not even know.

Soon, I was seated across from her in the corner booth of a small cafe. She asked the waitress to bring coffee and two slices of warm apple pie, without even consulting me. Normally, that would have bothered me. But with her, I didn’t mind. She lit a cigarette and leaned back against the cushioned seat. I think at this point I finally relaxed and could take all of her in.

It was lighter inside so I could examine her features. She was about my same age, maybe a little older. Her face was bright and child-like, her skin, smooth and soft-looking. She seemed almost angelic, though I knew she was not perfectly so. Her short, wavy blonde hair was still slightly wet from the rain, but it was cut as loose and carefree as she was. She had a girlish smile to match, and it told her life story. Through it, I could see she was trying to make a point with the world and everyone in it. She wanted nothing but to be free. That’s what she wanted all her life. Isn’t that what we all want? My thoughts were interrupted as the waitress poured our cups with steaming black liquid and set the pie dishes between us.

I had done some talking up to this point, but it was more gratifying for me to listen and to watch. I was intrigued by her words, yet still incredibly distracted by her appearance. I could not help but analyze her. The lacy white shirt she wore was dangerously low cut, but she was comfortable with that, I knew. Around her neck hung a beaded, grade school style necklace that spelled out “Daisy”, but I was sure that wasn’t her name. It was just indicative of her light-heartedness.

I had imagined that she was somehow wiser than I. This is not to say she was more intelligent in the matter of books, or schooling, but rather in the area of life itself. How could she be telling someone she didn’t even know everything about her? I only pondered that question for a moment, and then I continued to listen intently. From her pouty, rose colored lips came the details of an unimaginable childhood. There had been abuse...physical abuse. A year of alcohol and drug rehab when she was only 13 years old. She sought legal emancipation from her parents at 15, married at a young age, and subsequently divorced. She had been through so much, I thought. How is she so decidedly happy, and determined to stay so?

My question was answered as her story continued. She was now holding a cherry flavored lollipop as she explained her current successes. She never specifically stated what it was that got her to the career she now found herself excelling in. Though the road was not entirely free of bumps and obstacles, she could see over and around them. Sure, there was a history of alcoholism in her family, but she wasn’t worried…

I think her mention of worry suddenly reminded me of the accident of which I had entirely forgotten. Though I regretted the idea of leaving her presence, I told her I must excuse myself and make a quick phone call. As much as I was dreading it, I had to tell my boyfriend what had happened. It was getting late and I knew he would start to worry. Sadly, that was the last I saw of her.

When I returned to the table, she was gone. She left behind her not a trace, or so I thought. Then my eyes fell upon the little black notebook. My first instinct was panic...thinking she must have left it behind by accident. You could tell simply by looking at it that it was made of the finest leather. I quietly picked it up, running my fingers over the smooth, rounded corners and the tiny gold heart engraved on the front. I opened it up and read the words she had written: “I told you not to worry about the truck.” Tucked behind the bookmark ribbon was a small, folded piece of paper, or so I thought. I slowly opened it to discover that it was a personal check, covered with a bright, yellow daisy design. I could not believe what I was seeing. She truly must have added an extra zero? I was holding a check written in the amount of $20,000. I was in complete and utter shock. Was this actually happening? A fender bender and a rainy evening...in the corner booth of a cafe with a captivating woman...had come to this?

I will never see her again, but the image of her face remains impressed forever in my mind. I can’t say that my life has changed significantly since that day, but I know that I have. I am carelessly unconcerned about worries and trivial circumstances which others choose to fret their entire lives over. My mind is open to new horizons that I had never before seen, because I was afraid of them. She brought me out of the darkness, and gave me a new found determination. I realized that night that I may not be able to control everything in life, those restraints are far too exhausting. I can confidently say that I too, like the stranger, want to be free.