A Blind Eye Read Free

T-shirt, and the fall evening was cold.
    I shrugged off my jacket and held it out to her. “Here.”
    After a pause she said, “What?”
    Stupid me. I stood up and draped it around her shoulders.
    She slipped her arms into the sleeves and pushed them up to expose her hands. She looked even smaller, lost in my big jacket.
    I skimmed the menu, trying to decide what I was in the mood for. “Do you know what you’re having?” I asked without glancing up, falling back on the standard restaurant question when you needed to make conversation.
    â€œI’ll have what you have,” she said.
    Her menu lay untouched on the table in front of her. This was harder than I thought.
    â€œWhat do you like? They have a little bit of everything. Pasta, hamburgers, chicken, and sandwiches. Or breakfast stuff, if that’s what you want.”
    â€œIs it expensive?”
    â€œNo. Anyway, my dad’s paying, so you can get whatever you want. He’s loaded, and I’m sure he won’t mind.” I grinned.
    I spent his money all the time, and he never said a word. A couple of years ago, I stole his credit card. He didn’t say anything. When it expired, I found a new one sitting on the kitchen counter. I figured it was his way of giving me money without having to be in the same room with me. He kept me as far away from him as possible, and with my own card, I’d never have to bother him with financial needs.
    Right before I left, I’d taken five thousand in cash from his safe. I’d never done that before.
    â€œI want something with chips,” Scarlett said.
    It took me a second, but I got it—she meant french fries. “Okay, that doesn’t really narrow it down because you can get fries with pretty much anything. Are you thinking hamburger or a steak? But I’ll tell you, this probably isn’t the best place for a steak. They have fish ’n’ chips?” She was so thin, maybe she only ate salad. Fries and a salad.
    â€œA burger’s fine.”
    The waitress brought our drinks. “Are you ready to order?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger.”
    â€œAnd you, miss?”
    â€œI’ll have that as well.”
    The waitress looked at her, I’m sure calculating her size versus where she would put a double bacon cheeseburger. She must have decided it wasn’t her problem because she finally nodded and made for the kitchen. More food, more tip.
    â€œSo, Scarlett,” I said as I took a sip of soda and set my drink to the side, “tell me where you want me to take you.” But where she was going didn’t interest me nearly as much as what she’d told me in the car. I redirected. “I mean, what were you doing, sneaking into a stranger’s car?” She must’ve been pretty desperate. “You know, something a lot worse than getting left for five minutes on the freeway could have happened.”
    â€œI know.” She shrank into the depths of my jacket.
    â€œWhen did you get in? At the gas station or the cemetery?”
    â€œThe cemetery.” Only with her accent, it came out like “symmetry.”
    She put a hand on the table and searched for her hot chocolate. The waitress had set it too far away. I moved the mug to the middle of her paper place mat, rotated it so the handle was on her right, and placed her hand on it. Her fingers were icy cold. She wrapped both hands around it.
    â€œWhy did you hide in my car?”
    She blew on her mug of chocolate. “Dunno. I needed to get away, and yours was the only car I heard.”
    â€œSo you thought you’d just secretly ride with a stranger to whatever unknown destination he was going to?” Her plan had serious flaws.
    â€œI thought I could hide and then get out at the next stop. Didn’t figure it’d be the middle of the motorway, did I?”
    â€œHey. That wasn’t my fault. I