Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [71]
I decided to drive by Dan’s house, and then I would head to the airport. Now that it was light out, I could see, rather than simply sense, the desert spreading around me. I passed sandy hills with occasional outcroppings of flat-roofed houses nearly camouflaged into the landscape. Sproutings of barely green tufted sagebrush and washed-out khaki-colored trees lay below the peaked outlines of the craggy brown mountains in the distance. I began to understand Dan’s article and his concept of uncommon beauty.
A woman on an old, low-rider Harley drove next to me for a while. She wore black-fringed chaps and a helmet painted in a black-and-white cow pattern. She looked to me like a woman who knew herself, knew her place in the world, but then what did I know? I was judging her by her appearance. Once, I had heard two summer associates at the law firm talking about me in the bathroom. I had frozen inside the stall when I heard my name, scared that it was Paige or one of her crew ready to skewer me, to start some nasty rumor, but it had been very different. The two women, whose voices I soon recognized, were very kind, complimenting my clothes, my work at the firm, even commenting that I seemed to have so much confidence. It was that last comment that depressed me. Sure, I was glad that I presented that image, but sometimes I felt so alone, not confident or proud, and the saddest thing was no one seemed to recognize it. Maybe Maddy, maybe my dad sometimes. But I knew the bigger problem was me. I wasn’t letting anyone in on those occasional not-so-proud moments.
As the woman in the chaps rumbled past on the motorcycle, I noticed a green four-door about two car lengths behind me. It was in the same lane as the motorcycle, but as the motorcycle sped away, and the car had an opportunity to pass me, as well, yet it dropped into the lane behind me, keeping a reasonable distance. I sped up and began passing cars, but the green four-door stayed with me, always a short distance away, making it impossible to see the driver by looking in the rearview mirror.
Soon, I reached the Albuquerque exits. I turned off at the first one, even though it wasn’t where I planned on leaving the highway. The green car did the same.
I drove to a gas station and quickly pulled up to a pump. The green car slowed as it approached the station, then sped up again. I got out and stood by my car, pretending I was studying the gas prices, but behind my sunglasses, I watched the car drive a short way down the road, pull into a parking lot, turn around and come back toward the station. The car’s left blinker went on. It was about to turn into the station, but a number of passing cars in the other direction forced it to wait.
It was the opportunity I needed. Paranoia or no, I was going to lose this guy. I jumped back into my rental car and sped away from the tanks, back down the road, making my way toward the highway exit. Roaring up the ramp, I kept shifting my gaze to the rearview mirror. No sign of the green car, but I felt hot and flushed all over. I cranked up the air-conditioning, ignoring the decreasing speed limits into the city. I kept my foot on the gas until I was sure the car hadn’t followed me.
Finally, I found the exit I had originally intended to use. By then I had cooled down and I felt foolish. I began paying attention to navigating my way to Dan’s house.
If Santa Fe was a hamlet posing as a city, Albuquerque was a metropolis. There were Western designs on a few of the buildings and some American Indian decorations, but mostly it seemed like many other cities. Skyscrapers, winding byways, ghettos.
Dan’s house was easy to find with the directions Sharon had given me. I’m not sure what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. A large, aluminum-sided house painted gray-green