“Hey,” I say casually, climbing out of my car.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“So… I’ve been meaning to ask you… how low can you go?”
“What?” I don’t get it, and he cackles in response.
“How low can you go?”
Oh-my-god! Is he serious? He wants me to suck his dick!
“Oh-my-god Mike!” I shout while pushing at his chest. He laughs, puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me down. Oh God. Flashbacks. Bad flashbacks, of Robert. This can’t be happening again.
He’s not acting like himself. Is that beer I smell on his breath?
“Come on, let’s go for a scenic birthday drive.” A silly grin stretches across his face. I try and shake my thoughts from my head and convince myself that I am overthinking.
I climb into his Jeep and buckle my seat belt, Mike roars the vehicle to life and immediately presses play on CD player. He grinds the shifter in to gear, slams on the gas pedal and screeches out of the parking lot without even looking for oncoming traffic.
“Jesus, Mike!” I shout, and see he’s snickering. He pulls his Yankees ball cap down further on his head and grips the wheel tighter. Is he trying to scare me? If he is, it’s not working. All I’m feeling right now is anger. Is this how he reacts to getting turned down for a blow job?
A few minutes in to the drive and he’s still not speaking. All I can hear is the sound of Garth Brooks coming through the speakers singing about thunder rolling. His speed is accelerating by the minute. The back roads he’s taking to god-knows-where are narrow and winding.
“Where are we going Mike?” I ask, my voice now a bit shaky. I suddenly have fear flaring up in my chest. I had Mike in my senior English class all those years ago, but it hits me: I don’t know this guy at all. I don’t know what he’s capable of.
His voice breaks into my thoughts.
“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”
He was right. Less than one mile later he turns right in to the drive of Orange River Park. It’s a popular area for paddling and fishing. Long hiking trails lined with hundreds of pine trees make for a romantic walk on a summer night much like this. My gut is telling me that romance is not Mike’s plan – maybe it was, but before I turned down his blow job request.
As we pull down the dirt entrance I notice there are only two other vehicles here, which is pretty quiet for this time of year. Mike pulls into a parking spot, shuts off the engine and gets out of the Jeep. He doesn’t say a word, so I decide to follow his lead and get out as well. When I walk around to his side of the Jeep I notice he has the seat pushed forward and he’s reaching for something. Seconds later he slams the door shut and starts walking towards the hiking trail with a can of beer in his hand. I’m almost tempted to stay back at the Jeep to see how long it takes him to notice I’m not following him, but I don’t.
About a quarter of a mile in to the hiking trail I notice a large man who appears to be in his early forties down the small embankment fly fishing. I smile to myself remembering all of the times I’ve gone fishing with my dad and asking him why he never fly fishes. His answer was always the same, “it’s stupid.”
I see Mike walking toward an old wooden picnic table on the grass off to the side of the trail, so I continue to follow. He sits on top of the table, rests his elbows on his knees and cracks open his can of Budweiser beer. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday,” he tells me, then takes a big gulp of his beer.
“I didn’t expect a gift. Is that what your attitude is about?” I retort.
“Attitude? I don’t have a fucking attitude Hillary.” He wails at me. Moving a few steps closer to stand directly in front of him, placing my hands on my curvy hips I laugh out loud at his response. He’s joking right? Is this the beer talking?
“Did you miss the last fifteen minutes of our conversation at Dawn’s to here? Driving like an asshole? Driving while intoxicated with me in the vehicle without telling me? Was this your way of saying happy birthday, but requesting a blow job first?”
I hear a gasp as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I turn my head and see a young twenty something year old mother walking the trail with her toddler son, and she covers his ears.
“Sorry,” I say harshly to the woman as she walks by.
My annoyance is now increasing by the minute. Jumping up from the picnic table Mike chugs the last of his beer and crushes it to the ground.
“If you weren’t acting like such a tease I wouldn’t have expected a blow job,” he says.
I stood in complete shock with his admission. I take a couple of steps back and turn away from him and notice the fisherman and the young mom watching our argument. I calmly and quietly step back to him. My voice comes out like a hiss. “Mike, there are people around. Let’s keep this conversation civilized, okay?”