Hana . . .
There was no time to wait, no time to search. Nia had to escape; she did so out the front of the club, avoiding Mr. Clean at all costs, and hailed a cab. They circled like ugly, orange sharks, and she secured one, got in.”The University, McCann, please.”
The cab sped off down the waterfront street, and Nia looked back at the continual centipede wriggling into the club. The blinking green Johnny’s sign quickly vanished in the distance, further shrouded by the mist coming off the Sound.
She returned face-front to watch the turban in the driver’s seat and the flash of multi-colored city sights flying by: lights, buses, small groups of people meandering on drunk to the next dive bar, to the next hole in the wall. You could tell their vice by how they dressed: the stoners in their plaid, the easy in their short skirts, the hipsters in their skinny pants, ready for it all. It was too much for her, all of it. Her neck hurt, so did her below.
What was I thinking? I’m just like them now. I never wanted to be just like them.
You won’t, an unknown voice answered, and she realized it was in her head. .
Nia covered her ears.”Go away, go away,” she said.
“Excuse me?” said the driver, turning his head slightly to reveal his long black-grey beard.
“Not you, not you, sorry,” she said.
Twenty-four hours, the voice said.
“Twenty-four what? Twenty-four hours to what?” Nia shouted.
“Do you want me to pull over?” The driver asked.
“No, just go . . . go,” Nia cried in the backseat and pulled her hood over her face so she could hide in the dark, hide from her mistakes, hide from her guilt. “I’m nothing,” she whispered.
The freeway whizzed by and before she knew it, the cab had stopped in front of McCann—the tall, sixties-styled dorm set.
“Forty-two dollars,” said the driver.
“Forty-two dollars? What’d you take the long way or something? I don’t have that. I have a twenty.”
“Forty-two dollars,” he said again. “I’ll wait for it.”
“Oh frick,” said Nia opening the door and hurrying over to the gloomy, grey building. She punched in the code and entered the building, only to bump into him. Of all the people in the world why’d it have to be him—her personal stalker.
“Nia, what are doing up so late? You’re usually in bed by now. Nice scarf.”
“Andy, I need twenty-two bucks.”
“For what?” The tall, awkward, blond lank, happily pulled out his wallet. It was exactly the moment he’d been waiting for—she owed him now.
“The cab, he’s back there, can you go? I just need a shower. I need to go.” She handed him her crumpled twenty.
“Why, something happen?”
Nia looked down, “I . . . Andy . . .” She sighed. “Just don’t ask. You win, okay? You win.”
“Score!” said Andy pulling down a fist. “I’ll meet you for breakfast then in the morning. I’ll come by.”
“Fine,” Nia pushed past him. He wore the same awful, dated, nineties Hip-hop jacket that he’d found at the second-hand store—someone must have told him it looked cool. It just didn’t.
The stairs up seemed endless; she drudged down the long hall to the very last room on the left. The door was unlocked. We forgot to lock it, oh no! “He was probably in my room,” Nia said. “Oh Andy, I can’t think about this right now.”
Stripping down to nothing, she slipped on her black robe and matching slippers and hit the communal showers. It was empty, a bleak white—exactly what she needed. She let the hot water and thick steam wash away her pain and anguish from the wild night out. I’m not a virgin. She faced into the shower jet. I was saving myself for Mr. Right. Who am I kidding? I don’t believe this. He used me and I let him. I fell for it. I fell for his looks . . . oh . . .
What was it about him? She didn’t know. In fact, she still wanted him even after what had happened. But he’s dead; I killed him! I’m a murderer and a slut. The wound at her neck didn’t hurt as much as her below did, even though it looked worse: three ragged holes. She considered a trip over to campus health then decided otherwise.
“STDs,” she whispered. “We didn’t use anything.” She slunk down to the shower floor and brought her knees up to her chest, washing vigorously with the pink bar of soap. “I’m such a fool. Hana, I’m a fool. Even you would have told me to use a condom. Why didn’t I? Why?”
She dried off, retreated back to her dorm, and slipped under the covers still damp. The ill thoughts trailed on as Nia fought to sleep, wondered about Hana, the club, Johnny . . . and more Johnny.