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Pavement, he thought, it’s pavement . It felt rough and cold against his cheek, and he could hear someone talking, far, far away. The talking was getting closer, so Jim opened his eyes and tried to orient himself. He strained to gaze upward, and saw a man leaning over him. “Hey, are you all right?”
He moved sluggishly, limbs slow to obey, but finally managed to roll over. A pain in his ribs with every breath was unpleasantly distracting and his left shoulder was downright annoying. Need to get up He fought back a wave of nausea as he managed a sitting position, and tried to focus on the man’s words.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the man asked with a concerned expression and a thick British accent.
“Yes,” Jim reassured him, not sure himself. “What happened?”
“Somebody came up behind you and hit you with a baseball bat.. Did he get your wallet, because I couldn’t see below the bonnet of the car here.”
“No, no, I didn’t bring it. Just came out to the car to get my stuff…” Jim felt his front pocket and was relieved to find his car keys and the dorm keycard still there.
The keycard. Pam!he thought, suddenly panicking. He’d left her door unlocked. He had to get back up there. He attempted to lift himself to his feet despite his body’s complaints, but wobbled out of control and had to sink back down.
“Hey, better stay there a minute. Do you want me to call the police, or an ambulance or something?”
“No,” Jim said, his head clearing. “No, thanks. He got away – he didn’t steal anything. What are they gonna do?”
“Well..” the man said dubiously. “Maybe you’re right, but bloody hell - that was brutal. He kept hitting you after you were down. There’s nobody after you or anything, is there?”
“Not that I know of. Was I out long?”
“No, I started toward you and he buggered right off. I was over here in a few seconds,” the man answered.
“Good,” Jim grunted. A sense of urgency got hold of him again. “I have to get back inside – see about Pam – my…. Are you going to be safe here?” Jim asked the man.
“Don’t worry, that fellow went flying and my car’s right here. Are you sure you don’t want the police?”
“Nope.” Jim had to get up and get back in to check on Pam. He gingerly rose to his feet, steadier than before. He felt something warm and sticky on his collar and reached a hand back to explore. There was a small cut on the back of his head where the bat had connected. His left shoulder hurt like hell and every time he took a breath his right lower ribs smarted, but other than that everything seemed to work. Nothing major, he thought willfully.
“Very well. But here’s my card, if you change your mind and need a witness or something. I’m an instructor here at Pratt, Gerald Taylor.”
“Ok,” Jim said gratefully and took the card. “Thanks. You saved my skin, man.”
“No problem. I’ll report this to the administration. It should be safer than this here. That could have been me,” he said with a smile. “Right. So here’s your things.” The man – Gerald wasn’t it? – handed him his duffle bag.
“Thanks again,” Jim managed as he began to walk toward the dorm, unsteady at first. His balance improved with each step, and soon he was moving rapidly. He reached the side door, used the key card, and flew up the steps, ribs be damned.
The dorm hall was silent and empty. He hurried down the hall to Pam’s door only to find the shoe was still right there in the door, just as he had left it. He let out a huge sigh of relief and slipped back into her room, locking the door behind him. She lay snoring softly on the bed, hair tousled about her on the pillow. She’d never looked more beautiful to him and in spite of everything, he paused for a moment to appreciate the sight.
He forced his thoughts back to the matters at hand. Thoroughly spooked, Jim knew that Pam’s keys were still unaccounted for so he took her desk chair and lodged it underneath her doorknob. Better safe than sorry. He carried his duffle into Pam’s tiny bathroom. Removing his blue shirt, he placed it in the sink to soak out the blood a brand new shirt, too he thought, annoyed at this small detail. He shed the rest of his work clothes and stood under the hot, cleansing shower for a very long time, trying to wash away his nagging apprehension.
Only then did he take stock of himself physically. He had a small cut on the back of his head that was barely oozing blood, a very sore upper left shoulder and some dicey ribs that were beginning to bruise already. Other than that, he seemed to be okay. It could have been worse, especially if that other guy hadn’t been in the parking lot. He was developing an intense dislike of New York City. It was a lot more fun in sixth grade, he thought, as he stepped from the shower. He dried off carefully and had to admit, he felt a lot better.
Clothed in flannel pants and a t-shirt, he emerged into Pam’s room, assessing the sleeping situation. He gently scooted her over on the small bed and eased himself down to lie beside her. Sleep was not going to come easily. His mind raced, trying to connect and make sense out of all the recent events, even as he tried in vain to get comfortable. Not enough space, too many sore spots. His solace came in that Pam lay warm and safe beside him, and that when they got home all this would just be a bad memory.
Was any of this crazy stuff connected, he wondered, or was he just paranoid? He knew the phone calls had been from Ryan and his supposedly harmless friends. Pam’s mysterious person in the shadows was still unexplained, but was it real or had she had a paranoid moment of her own? Her keys were gone now, but they might turn up in the morning when she was awake and alert. And he’d just been mugged in a big city parking lot in the middle of the night.
None of these events were necessarily related, he concluded. They were magnified in his mind and had developed into a threatening monster that was New York, he chided himself. Tomorrow morning he and Pam would be headed back to Scranton. Back home. Together. His eyes had finally drifted shut when a sound caused them to snap open again.
A key was slowly turning in Pam’s door lock.
Jim was instantly alert. He eased his bare feet onto the floor and he looked quickly around the room for a weapon. His eyes settled on Pam’s little lamp – it would have to do. As he quietly rose, he reached for the lamp and turned it upside down, slipping off the shade. The ball of the base would do some damage, he figured. As he tiptoed toward the door, there was pressure from the outside on the door, but the chair he’d put there kept it from opening. He positioned himself to the side of the door and lifted the globe, readying himself as the key still jiggled in the lock. Now! Jim pulled the chair away and jumped into the door frame in one fluid motion.
He nearly hit Alex, who threw up a hand in defense and backed up rapidly, looking shocked. “Wait, no! Jim, it’s me!” he yelped.
What the?" Jim dropped the lamp to his side.
“Easy, man. It’s me. I was just bringing . . . Pam dropped her keys in the museum. I found them and ran outside after you, but you had just pulled away in the taxi. There was nobody at the desk to leave them with so I was just going to drop them inside the door. I was trying not to….um….disturb…you…um…all,” he slowed to a stutter. “Figured you’d need them.” He composed himself. “Now that I think about it with what’s been going on…I just didn’t think.” Alex shrugged.
“Wow, I almost clocked you. Sorry. Guess I’m a little spooked.” Jim couldn’t decide if he should be angry at Alex or just feel silly about the whole thing. He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s been a weird night.”
“Is Pam okay? She was pretty wasted.”
“Yeah, she’s still sound asleep,” Jim agreed with an expression that said “whaddayagonnado?” Then he continued, “Hey, thanks for bringing the keys.” He cocked his head as he added, “You’ve been a . . .good friend to Pam.” That was a loaded statement, and Alex did not miss the cue. Sharp one, this Alex, Jim thought.
Alex sighed deeply. “Look, Jim, I know you’re not wild about me...for um...encouraging Pam to stay in New York. I’m just trying to think of her best interests.”
Jim bristled in spite of trying not to.
Alex continued, not missing that either. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s more than that. I think Pam’s pretty awesome.”
Jim stepped back a step in surprise at this admission.
“I also know she’s engaged to you now, and I know she loves you. In fact, we were pretty sure from hearing about you that you’d show up in a cape.” There was only a hint of bitterness in the humor.
Jim started to reply, but Alex plowed on. “You have no idea what it’s like to be in my situation, man. Everyday. I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you. Guess I’m a little drunk myself.” Alex rubbed his hand over his face.
Jim recognized the pained look in Alex’s eyes all too well, and for the first time, he felt a stab of sympathy. “Sorry, Alex.” Jim mumbled. What else was there to say? “Look. For what it’s worth on the New York issue, I would never stand in the way of Pam’s dreams. Ever. I just want her to be happy. I think we’ll be happy, together, and until I hear otherwise from her?” He shrugged slightly. “She is pretty awesome.”
The younger man bowed his head slightly, as if to admit defeat as well as agree.
Alex managed a small smile. “I hope Pam is happy,” he said, and it sounded sincere, Jim thought. “You know, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but Dr. Krenz - one of our professors - he told Pam she was too happy to be doing great work.” Alex nodded. “So . . .I’m hoping this experience I’m having is making me a better artist.”
“I don’t think you have to be unhappy to create good art.” Jim stated flatly.
“Great art, it’s great art you want to create, don’t you see? Van Gogh wasn’t very happy, was he?” Alex said with a pained smile.
There was something weird about the way he said that, Jim thought, but. . .the silence became eerily awkward, and Jim was ready to end this conversation. “Well, it’s late. Thanks for the keys, and sorry I almost hit you.”
“I should have thought about it from your point of view.”
“And I shouldn’t be so edgy. G’night,” Jim said, as he turned to go back into Pam’s room.
“Hey, what happened to you?” Alex called after him with alarm in his voice.
Jim realized Alex had seen the back of his head. Damn.
“I got mugged,” he admitted nonchalantly.
“What?! What the hell? When? Is Pam okay?” Alex fired questions.
Jim answered calmly. “Pam was in here asleep. She’s fine. I went out to get my bag from the car and somebody whacked me upside the head.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yup.”
“Holy shit, Jim! I’m sorry.”
“I love New York.” Jim smiled. “Night, Alex, “ he said, pulling the keys from the lock as he disappeared into Pam’s room.
A glance at the clock showed it was a little after midnight, but Jim felt like he’d already been up all night. He made no effort to put the lamp back together, and slid back into bed beside his fiancée - his still sleeping fiancée - who was, even under normal circumstances, a sound sleeper. But this took the cake. He wouldn’t be in a hurry to let her live this down.
He shifted onto his side, the only way he fit in this tiny bed. Wow, he thought as he settled in, that conversation with Alex had been all kinds of weird. As he wondered what else could possibly happen to make this night more bizarre, Jim fell fast asleep.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter's title comes from an old Jim Croce classic. It seems to fit well. I don't think Jim is too fond of NYC and I can't say that I blame him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QT7cTf3XuRY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QT7cTf3XuRY
Chapter End Notes:
This story is longer than I thought, but two more chapters ought to do it. It' ain't over 'til it's over.
/Stallone
Thanks for reading and comments are always appreciated.
/Stallone
Thanks for reading and comments are always appreciated.
