“Looks like we’ve got an accident with injuries at the West 10 exit, folks!”

Fred Foley seemed almost giddy from his vantage point in the News Five chopper. Jeff could see it hovering and swooping ahead while the rotors beat their way into the background noise of Foley’s traffic report. It caught morning sunlight while the traffic below lay in shadows in the landscape.  

“Come on!” Jeff shouted. He looked at his watch as traffic slowed from a crawl to a stop, then ran a hand through his short, brown hair. His exit was still several miles away. When would these idiots learn to drive?

“It’s a nasty one, folks!” Foley continued. “We have a tractor trailer jackknifed in the middle of the southbound lane with two or three cars involved as well!”

“How does a semi jackknife in perfect weather?!” Jeff said, hitting his steering wheel with an open hand. He had a meeting in 25 minutes he couldn’t miss. Checking his watch again, he clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on the center console.

“Crews are on the scene but sit tight because it’s going to take a while. Keeping you informed from above, this is Fred Foley, News Five!”

Jeff envied Foley’s immunity from the terrestrial problems every commuter faced on the ground. With so many thousands packed onto this ribbon of asphalt at the same time every day, accidents weren’t really a surprise, they were simply an annoyance to get rid of as quickly as possible.

Jeff rolled down his window to let in the cool air and noticed cars slipping by to his left. Groups of two, three and four people laughed and smiled in the carpool lane, sipping their coffee, certain of reaching work on time. Apparently the accident left a hole for the privileged to slip through. One guy waved insolently from an open passenger window as he cruised by, eliciting a barrage of fingers from several cars. Someone up ahead stood up and threw a breakfast burrito.

The driver of the next car in line, wearing an uneasy expression, had a mannequin riding shotgun. Jeff had seen him pull this stunt before and opened his mouth to yell in protest but a smug grin settled over his face when he saw the patrol car next in line waiting for a place to pull the offender over.

“Finally got that punk,” Jeff said, pleased that this morning gone awry had allowed him at least a small pleasure.

Johnny Cash sang, “I fell in to a burning ring of fire…” on the radio and Jeff joined in to occupy his mind, reaching deep for the low notes. Turning the radio up, he moved his head to the music, then kept beat on the steering wheel with one hand.

Still singing, he glanced up when the lane to his right moved ahead a single car length. He stopped short when he saw her.

Jeff guessed she was in her early-twenties, like himself. Her delicate facial features held his gaze, and her full lips parted slightly as she regarded him with something like disdain. Or maybe amusement. Dark brown hair fell to her shoulders, slightly wavy and contrasting with a flared white collar beneath a black suit top. She seemed so familiar to him, although he knew he’d never met her. It wasn’t a physical familiarity, it was something else, something he picked up in her eyes and countenance. He definitely hadn’t met her before, but he decided in that instant that he needed to.

She raised her eyebrows quizzically and Jeff reached for his coffee mug, holding it aloft it in an embarrassed toast he hoped would cover the memory of his antics performed a moment before. As he grinned at her, a horn blared behind him. Reflexively, he slipped his foot to the gas and lurched forward, then hit the brakes again.

What was she driving? He hadn’t seen anything but her face. Craning his neck, he caught a Toyota emblem on the front grill. A blue Toyota. Looked like a Corolla.

The car behind him honked again, as if the twenty feet they were able to travel mattered. Pulling ahead, he reached into the glove box for a pen and piece of paper.

“BRO,” Jeff said, slouching in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. Carl, who shared his cubicle, pulled himself away from his computer and spun his chair.

“What.”

“I’m in love,” Jeff said.

“With what?” Carl said.

“A girl, what do you think?” Jeff said, sitting up straight.

“Got a name?” Carl said.

Jeff shrugged.

“A number?” Carl said skeptically.

Jeff held up a slip of paper and Carl leaned close.

“That’s a license plate number,” Carl said, crossing his arms.

“Better than nothing,” Jeff said.

(cont'd from the print edition)

“What is she?” Carl said. “Some old chick at the DMV? A mechanic? Who gives out license plate numbers?”

“She didn’t give it to me,” Jeff said, slipping the paper into his breast pocket.

Carl thought for a moment. “So, you’re stalking women on the road and recording their license plate numbers.” He shook his head and turned back to his computer. “Get some help, man.”

“I saw her on the way in this morning when I was stopped for that wreck.”

“The one that made you miss the meeting you were supposed to speak at?” Carl jabbed, peering over his shoulder for a reaction.

“No, the one you fish your clothes out of every morning,” Jeff said.

Carl spun to face him and looked down at his own clothing—unpolished shoes, short slacks that revealed mismatched socks, a baby blue pin-striped shirt and an orange tie with a bold crease through it.

“Ok, you got a point,” he said, shrugging. “This tie went through a whole cycle caught in the dryer door.” He clasped his hands. “So, what’s your plan with this new interest of yours?”

JEFF SCANNED the traffic for a blue Corolla both that evening and the following morning, but didn’t see her. He chided himself for falling into these infatuations so easily.

“This is stupid,” he told Carl. “Like high school. Next thing you know I’ll be asking you to find her and slip her a note for me.”

“It would be the last you saw of her,” Carl said with a suave grin.

“Yeah, you could turn anyone off,” Jeff said. “I think I’ll just forget that chick.”

The next day, he saw her glide by as he took the West 10 exit.

“I have an idea,” he said to Carl as he burst into the cubicle. “Do you know where I can get some poster board?”

“You saw her again, didn’t you?” Carl said, sipping a mug of coffee. “I thought you were going to let this one go? Since you already had such a hold on her and all.”

“Posterboard,” Jeff said.

“You’re a freak,” Carl said, shaking his head. “Lacy has some stashed by her desk. Just take some, she’s not here yet.”

Jeff returned a moment later with several sheets and took a pair of scissors from his desk. Cutting a section off, he wrote, “Hi I’m Jeff,” in big, black letters. He stepped into the passageway outside the cubicle and turned to face Carl through its narrow entrance.

“Can you see this from there?” he said.

“Those letters are as big as your head. Of course I can see it.” Carl said. An amused expression lightened his face. “So, what exactly are you going to do? Write to her as you drive?”

“No, I’d probably kill myself doing that. I have to write them beforehand,” Jeff said.

He thought for a moment and wrote, “Can I meet you?”

“Better think of something smoother than that,” Carl said, clicking in disapproval. 

Jeff wrote on another piece, “Let’s carpool,” and on another, “Your number?” Looking at Carl, he shrugged. “Maybe she’ll think it’s cute and feel sorry for me. I’m cool with pity, as long as it works.”

I feel sorry for you,” Carl said. “And I was just thinking. How do you know she’s not married?”

TWO DAYS later, he saw her again, and this time he was ready. His digital camera lay in the passenger seat atop several pre-made signs and a couple blanks in case he decided he needed to risk writing on the run. He spotted her car about fifty yards ahead and worked his way forward, finally moving in behind her in the lane to her left. Reaching for his digital, he inched forward and looked for her hands on the wheel.

“Dang,” he muttered. She drove with the bottom half of the wheel. He held his position while irritated drivers behind him tailgated and peeled around to his left. Suddenly her hand rose into view and he lunged forward, snapping a picture as she tossed her hair over one shoulder.

She glanced over at him, then did a double-take. Jeff dropped the camera and pretended to be digging in the center console, hoping she hadn’t seen it. Then he looked up, feigning surprise, and waved. She accelerated.

Keeping pace with her, he flipped up his first sign. “Hi I’m Jeff.”

The sign filled the entire window and he had trouble gauging her reaction, but risked as many sidelong glances as he could. He flipped the sign over to say, “I’d like to meet you,” then grabbed the one with his phone number and held it up.

She immediately produced a hands-free set and fastened it to her ear, then dialed a number, holding her phone in plain view.

Jeff stared in incredulous, sidelong glances, swerving several times. She was actually calling him! He fumbled with his own hands-free set and flipped his phone open to take her call. His exit was coming up, but he didn’t care. He would drive with her to wherever she worked, meet her in person and maybe even hit things off.

When he looked again, she was already talking and her lips clearly formed the words, “stalking me.” She had turned her face toward him and enunciated them with deliberate care.

“No!” Jeff shook his hand and spoke aloud as if she could hear him. He let his foot relax and slowed, falling behind. Who was she talking to? The police? He veered behind her, cutting off a black Audi, and coasted onto the West 10 off ramp.

“SHE THINKS I’m stalking her,” Jeff said, plopping down in his chair.

“So do I,” Carl said.

“But what’s the worst they can do? Tell me I can’t pass her on the freeway?”

“Did she call the police?” Carl said.

“Maybe,” Jeff shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. But check this out.” He took his camera from his pocket and showed Carl the screen. The picture had turned out better than he expected.

“That’s the boss’s daughter!” Carl said.

“What!?” Jeff hissed, bolting upright. “Are you sure?”

Carl grinned. “No.”

Jeff slouched in his seat and exhaled. “Don’t mess with me like that.”

“She looks pretty hot,” Carl said. “But who’s to say she doesn’t just plump out beneath that window? She could be a toad, dude.”

 Jeff ignored the comment. “Zoom in on her hand.”

Carl did and shook his head. “For your sake, I wish she had a fat diamond on that finger.” He looked away and reconsidered. “For both our sakes, actually. You’re putting me through a lot here.”

THE NEXT morning Jeff held up his, “Let’s carpool,” sign, then asked if they could meet. The morning after that, she had her own sign. Jeff saw her press it up to the window as soon as she saw him approaching. Eager to read it, he maneuvered alongside.

“ON,” was written in huge, red letters, and there were a couple vertical lines before the “o”, like an upside down exclamation mark.

“I knew I should have paid more attention in Spanish class!” he said. The sign took up the whole driver’s window except for a small opening that must have allowed her to see the side view mirror. What was this exotic beauty trying to tell him?

“On.” He explored the word aloud, pronouncing it in many accents. “You’re on. I turn you on. Yeah.” He grinned, then considered possible foreign meanings. And why wasn’t she looking at him? He frowned, but remembered that Carl spoke a little Spanish. He picked up his phone.

“Bro, she’s talking to me!”

“You’re kidding,” Carl said. “What’s she saying?”

Jeff glanced at the sign again, just to make sure it was really happening and said, “I think it’s Spanish. Man, she must have a hot accent.”

“What is she saying,” Carl said, more slowly this time.

“It’s just two letters,” Jeff said. “’o’, ‘n’. With a sort of upside down exclamation mark before the ‘o’. Can you translate that?”

Carl was silent for a moment, then burst into howls of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Jeff said, peering at the sign again.

Carl struggled to settle down. “Yeah,” he said, still chuckling. “I know what it means. And it’s not Spanish.”

“It’s not?”

“Nope,” Carl said. Hilarity bubbled just beneath the surface of his voice and threatened to burst. “It’s another language called upside-downish. It says, ‘n’, ‘o’, buddy! NO!”

Jeff hung up on gales of laughter he could hear from an arm’s length away.

“I THINK she’s leaving for work at a different time to dodge me,” Jeff said. “I haven’t seen her for a week.”

“I’d dodge you, too if we didn’t work in the same cube,” Carl said, typing at his computer. His fingers pattered over the keys and he hit enter with finality, then spun.

“I’m sure she’s not leaving any later,” he offered. “Then she’d be rushed. Try leaving ten minutes earlier, and if you see her, here’s what you do.”

IT WORKED like Carl said, and for the next three days Jeff held his eyes on the road and didn’t give her so much as a glance. He yawned, sipped coffee and sang to whatever was on the radio. This change in attitude would draw her in, piquing her curiosity as to what had changed, hopefully instilling some sense of intrigue in this man who had suddenly given her such a cold shoulder.

One morning she held up a sign that finally drew Jeff’s eyes her way. It said, “Thanks.”

“What do you think that means?” he asked Carl in the office.

“Probably, ‘Thanks for laying off, freak.’” Carl said.

Jeff snorted. “You’re a jerk.”

“What, you want me to lie?” Carl said. “Ok,” he slipped into a falsetto. “Thanks for making every morning wonderful. I look forward to seeing the inevitable approach

 of your red Ford Focus in my rearview mirror, and your kind, though homely face sends shivers…”

“Shut up,” Jeff said and turned around to

work.

FOR THE next two weeks, Jeff avoided her. He left at different times and never drew near when he saw her car. He didn’t know what to do next. Until one Friday morning when traffic slowed to a crawl.

“We’ve got a two car accident with injuries in the southbound lane just north of exit 149!” Fred Foley exclaimed. “The right lanes are completely blocked, the left and carpool lanes are open. Expect delays until crews get this mess cleaned up!”

Jeff sighed as he crept along. Wasn’t it the same every day? Sometimes the accidents were in the northbound lane, sometimes in the southbound; sometimes near his route, sometimes farther away. Today he thought about it differently, however. An accident with injuries wasn’t just a statistic or an annoyance, it changed people’s lives. And sometimes ended them.

“Frickin’ Fred Foley,” Jeff said, turning the radio off.

And then he saw the flashing lights ahead. He saw a car overturned and another at an odd angle on the shoulder. As he moved slowly forward, merging to fit through the bottleneck and gawking with the other drivers, he gained a better view of the overturned car. Its top was crumpled, the driver’s side smashed. It was a blue car, a Toyota. And the license plate number he had memorized weeks before stared him in the face.

Jeff veered toward the shoulder once he had passed the wreckage and road cones and leapt from his car to find himself fifty yards from the scene. He ran several paces toward the accident as medical personnel loaded a patient into an ambulance, but stopped when he realized what he was doing.

What right did he have to approach her? He didn’t even know her name. He watched, shoulders slumped, as the ambulance leapt forward, siren screaming. It plowed into the serpentine body of traffic winding toward the city. The roar of vehicles streaming past at full speed in the northbound lane filled his senses. In the southbound, motors accelerated after navigating the morning’s inconvenience.

A morning breeze tugged at his tie and ruffled his hair as Jeff turned and plodded back to his car. It was still running, and his door was open.

“I’M SORRY, bro. That sucks.” These were Carl’s condolences, and he was, for once, sincere. Jeff was busy thumbing through the phonebook for hospital numbers and didn’t respond.

“So, you’re going to visit her?” Carl said after a silent moment.

Jeff nodded decisively, holding a phone to his ear as a local hospital answered on the other end.

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “A friend of mine was in an accident this morning and I don’t know what hospital she was taken to . . . No, I don’t know her last name . . . I don’t know her first name, either . . . Please, did a girl in her twenties come in this morning in an ambulance . . .” He slammed the phone down and Carl cringed as if he wanted to interject, but was afraid to.

“Uh, how do you expect to get around that problem?” Carl said.

“I don’t know,” Jeff said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “But I have to try.”

He called the next hospital and got the same response.

“I know you were kind of crazy about how she looked,” Carl said. “But that’s all you’re going on. Maybe you should just let it go. You don’t even know her.”

Jeff dialed a third hospital and held the receiver to his ear.

ONE WEEK later, Carl called as Jeff was eating dinner.

“I saw that girl on the news,” he said. “Her name is Katie Larsen.”

“Where is she?” Jeff said, knocking his chair over backwards as he rose from the table.

“City Memorial. She’s in rough shape.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff said, already heading for the door.

“They don’t know if she’ll walk again.”

Jeff let the news sink in, then asked why she’d been on the news.

“I don’t know,” Carl said. “Misery makes a good story.”

JEFF STOOD outside room 2119 at City Memorial Hospital holding a vase of flowers he bought downstairs at the gift shop. In the other hand he clutched a single, poster board sign. He had written on it the only response he could think of to their last communication. It said, “You’re welcome.” And as an afterthought, since he didn’t know exactly what she had thanked him for, he added a question mark.

He waited for the nurse while she finished her business in the room and stopped her on the way out.

“How’s she doing?” he said.

The nurse looked down at the flowers and smiled. “Awake and lonely,” the nurse said.

“She hasn’t had any visitors?” Jeff said.

“Besides those news people come to exploit her? Only one. A young lady come in this afternoon and didn’t look all too friendly. You seem like the first visitor worth visitin’ with.”

Jeff shot a furtive glance at the door to Katie’s room. How could a girl like her have no friends or family visiting at a time like this? How could anyone end up in that situation? He looked back at the nurse.

“Well, what you waitin’ for?” she said.

“Can you do something for me?” Jeff said.

A curious smile spread across the nurse’s face. “What would that be, honey?”

“I don’t know if she wants to see me. I . . .”

“You a friend, right?” Suspicion crept into her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, but just the same, can you take these flowers in along with this sign and just see what she says?”

“Who you are if you cain’t walk in and visit a po’ girl in her state?” the nurse said, eyes hardening. “You one a them pervert, stalker types? Seen a pretty girl on the news who can’t run from you and wanna capitalize?” She shook her finger in his face, voice rising. “We got too many a them runnin loose aready! I ain’t afraid to call the guard on you!”

“Ma’am, listen,” Jeff pleaded. She slowly crossed her arms and let him explain.

“I see her almost every morning on the commute. I kind of fell for her through the car window, you know?” The nurse cocked her head dubiously.

“I started trying to talk to her with signs like this.” He held up the sign. “But we’ve never spoken. I just wanted to meet her. It never worked out so I left her alone, but then I drove by her car after she rolled it on the freeway and spent the day calling hospitals trying to find out where she was. I didn’t even know her name until my friend saw her on the news tonight.”

The nurse’s face had softened progressively throughout this confession. “You tellin’ the truth?” she said. Jeff nodded. “Well, you like to make me cry. Girls!” she yelled down the hall to the nurse’s station. “C’mon now! We got a love story in the makin’!”

“Ma’am, please,” Jeff said. “I don’t want her to hear this.”

Several nurses peered out from their station as Katie’s nurse reached for the flowers and sign. “Don’t you worry yo’self, honey. Lemme handle dis.”

She disappeared into the room, and after a minute slinked back through the doorway with a huge grin on her face.

“You best go get acquainted,” she said.

As Jeff took a tentative step into the room, he heard the nurse exclaim down the hall, “Lawd bless them news folk, bringing that boy here. I call ‘em up wid somethin good to report!”