Since she arrived at the motel, Damita had been checking every day to see if there was any report of Neal being killed. Yet, there was none. She assumed that the news outlets were too occupied with covering the nine-eleven disaster to be concerned with a simple murder.
As odd as it may have seemed, Damita realized that what happened at the World Trade Center might have actually saved her. She wasn’t sure why, but the entire time she was married to Neal, it was like she was another person. She allowed him to do things to her that she would never have allowed anyone else to do. And, as much as she would have liked to believe that she would have eventually let him go, she wondered if the disaster on nine-eleven hadn’t happened, would things have played out the way that it did. After all, she had gone back to him time and time again no matter what he did to her. She might have done the very same thing again.
The next morning, Damita pulled out the checklist she had written on a pad she found in the motel room. She found her thoughts flowed better when she could see it in writing. Since a checklist of her escape plans wasn’t something she wanted discovered if her computer was found, she decided a pen and pad would be best.
First on the list was to check on the status of the car. She checked that off the list, since she had already done it. Next on the list was to ask the driver to stop at the first non-bank ATM she came across. Third on the list was to wait for her bus to arrive as far away from other passengers as possible.
The person at the hotel desk called to let her know that her car was outside. Damita looked around the motel room, yet another place she was leaving, and made sure that she hadn’t left anything behind. She grabbed her bags and went to meet the car.
She was happy to see that the driver wasn’t chatty like some of the cab drivers she had often gotten. He verified where she was going and that was all she heard out of him the entire trip.
Damita followed what she had written on the list and stopped at an ATM inside of a bodega. She withdrew as much cash as she could get from her collective cards, and left. She was nervous about the twenty thousand dollars that was in her backpack, especially since she noticed someone in the store watching her use her card. She had to use several cards, which meant she was holding a good deal of cash. If someone decided to rob her, they would not only get the money she had taken out of the ATM but also the twenty thousand dollars she was walking around with. When she exited the cab she considered leaving the bag with the money in the car, but she didn’t trust that either. When she was done using the ATM, she walked outside and right back into the car.
The driver continued on to the bus station. She paid the driver in cash and left. She remembered the notation on her checklist about keeping to herself while she waited for the bus and stuck to it. Unfortunately, within minutes of arriving she noticed there was a man watching her. At first, paranoia took hold and she was sure that he was an undercover police officer sent to find her and arrest her for murder. Then, she remembered that even with the short hair and the hood pulled sharply around her head, she was still an attractive woman. He wasn’t sent to find her. He was checking her out.
Finally, the bus arrived and Damita’s plan was to sleep through the entire trip. She found a window seat, close to the back and threw the backpack she was carrying in the seat. She had already given her larger bag to the driver to put under the bus. So, all that was left was to settle in. Her plan was to spend as much of the time on the bus sleeping as she could. If and when she made it to Seattle safe and sound, she would have a long road ahead of her. The long bus ride might be her only opportunity to simply sit back, relax and let someone else do the driving.
Unfortunately, she thought her plan might be ruined, when the man that had been staring at her while they waited for the bus, got on and sat right next to her. Surprisingly, all he said to her was hello. He pulled out a book and began reading.
After six hours of trying to sleep comfortably on a Greyhound bus, Damita was well aware of how flawed her plan to sleep most of the way really was.
She decided that instead of sleeping, she would use the time to think. She pulled out her notepad and began writing. She made lists for everything; things she might need where she was going, what her next steps should be. She found it helped her pass the time and she figured if it helped organize her thoughts then that was even better.
Her brain in overdrive, sleep finally overtook her. When she woke up, the man sitting next to her was holding her notepad.
She frowned. “Is that mine?” Damita asked agitatedly.
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry. You dropped it while you were sleeping and I considered putting it on your lap or in your bag, but I didn’t want to take any chances that you would either drop it again, or that you would wake up just in time to see my hand going toward your lap, and scratch my eyes out.”
“Thank you,” she said apprehensively.
He smiled. “Are you always so guarded?” he asked.
“Wow! Do you always make assumptions about people you don’t know?” she countered.
“Only when I’m clearly stating the obvious,” he responded.
He returned to his book and Damita returned to her notepad without further conversation.
The bus driver announced a stop and both Damita and many of the passengers got off the bus, including Damita and the man sitting next to her.
There was a fast-food restaurant and she went in and got a burger and fries.
“That stuff will kill you,” he said.
Damita shook her head. “Are you still watching me? Isn’t there anyone else here you’d like to play close attention to besides me?” Damita asked.
“Not that I’m admitting to watching you, but I will say that there is no one else here worth watching more than you.”
“That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” Damita said, laughing.
“It may have been cheesy, but at least it made you smile. Not only did you smile but you actually laughed. I didn’t think you were capable of such a feat.”
“Yes, I do laugh on occasion; especially when I don’t feel like I’m being stalked.”
He smirked. “Someone’s a little full of herself.”
“Well, isn’t what you were doing the definition of stalking; to pursue or approach stealthily?”
“Not bad, Halle. I like them pretty and smart.”
“Excuse me? What did you call me?”
“Well, I called you pretty and smart.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Why did you call me Halle?”
“I’d think that would be obvious. You remind me of her, you know?”
“Are you really going to offer me yet another cheesy line?”
“What cheesy line? You really do remind me of Halle Berry.”
“You know what, that line is right up there with, excuse me, are you a model?”
“That was going to be my next question.”
Damita scrunched up her face in mock disgust and once again laughed.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked.
She laughed again. “Please, no, stop it. What do you have, a book full of these things? The title must be something like the top twenty-five things to say to get a girl talking.”
“I actually don’t have a book like that, but if I did, I would say it was worth every penny.”
“It would be at that.”
They walked together back to the bus and Damita remembered her notepad and one entry in particular in which she reminded herself not to get too friendly with anyone; especially men. Over the last several months she had already proven that her instincts about men were terrible and given her present condition, she couldn’t afford to put her life in jeopardy.
After two days, they were finally in Seattle. She looked around and realized she had done it. She had left New York without being stopped, arrested, or approached in any way by anyone connected with her old life. As soon as she got there she remembered she had no place to stay. She hadn’t wanted to book a hotel in Seattle with her own credit card and figured it would make more sense to find a hotel once she arrived in Seattle. Once she was there she could pay in cash.
She wondered how difficult it would be to check into a hotel in Seattle without using any identification. Even the low-budget motel on Staten Island, in New York, had wanted to see some identification. She was able to get around it by paying a large enough additional deposit so that the desk clerk in New York didn’t bother her any further. She wasn’t sure if it would be quite so easy in another city.
“Well, so-long, Halle,” the guy sitting next to her said.
“So-long, cheesy lines guy.”
He stuck out his hand to shake hers. “My name is Lester Jones, by the way.”
“Hello and goodbye, Lester Jones.”
“You know, usually when someone introduces himself, the other person offers their name as well. It’s one of those societal give-and-take things we’ve all grown so accustomed to.”
“Just call me Halle,” Damita said.
“Happy trails, Halle,” Lester said, as Damita exited the bus.