A/N: New story- any and all feedback is appreciated. Thanks so much for reading. (And of course, I don't own Twilight.)
Thursday- EPOV
The girl climbed into the cab, slamming the door roughly.
"Hennepin and 26th, please," she murmured to me.
I nodded, slowly easing off the break. I pulled into the stream of cars surrounding the busy intersection, easing between a tour bus and the blurry river of headlights. I subtly glanced into the rearview mirror at my passenger. Dark hair, dark clothes, tear-streaked cheeks. Backpack with a UM patch. I hoped she wasn't a talker- it had been a long day. I could live without another freshman spilling the deepest tragedies of midterms or rush week. She didn't really look like that kind of girl, but then again, it was hard to tell. She swiped a hand under her eyes, staring at the floor. Confident that she wasn't looking for a trappable outlet for whatever was causing those tears, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Would you mind if I turn on the radio? It might talk about a while to get over there this time of night," I asked, trying to be polite.
The girl gave a weak smile in response, shrugging. Pretty sure that that was probably the most enthusiastic response I was going to get, I cranked the ancient dial to my favorite station, tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel in time with the classic swooning jazz. I glanced back in the mirror. The girl was still hiding behind her too-long bangs, occasionally rubbing her eyes. I found myself wanting to initiate a conversation with her, but that was strictly against my rules. So I didn't. Anyway, she was clearly uninterested.
I refocused on the road. The highway route I had taken had proven erratic and busy- post-2:00 AM driving in this town usually was. As if right on cue, an oversized pickup swerved in front of the car.
"Shit!" I yelled, honking the horn twice before veering slightly to avoid a collision.
"I'm sorry for swearing, ma'am. I was just surprised," I explained, embarrassed for breaking another one of the carefully constructed protocol I had established for this job.
Another weak smile. "It's fine; I don't care," the girl muttered, staring out the window. I did, though. I didn't swear in the cab. Everywhere else, yes, and in my head, but not in the cab.
I spent the rest of the trip trying to ignore the small sniffles and sighs of my passenger. I was failing miserably. Something about this girl definitely didn't scream "teen angst" to me. I was intrigued. Just as I had decided to actually ask her a question, I realized the intersection she had requested was quickly approaching. I pulled up to the curb.
"That'll be $19.35, please," I said.
She was already handing me a twenty and a couple of ones.
With a hurried "Thanks," she was out the door. Not quite ready to just let her leave yet, I quickly rolled down his window to say something to her.
"Hey, wait!" I called out the window. The girl turned back towards the car, eyebrow arched. I realized I didn't have anything to say. Shit. I scrambled for something, anything. "I wanted to give you my card, just in case you need a ride home or something- I'm working all night."
She stepped cautiously back toward the car window, snatching the proffered card from my hand. It read, "Edward Cullen, Blue and White Taxi, (612) 333-3333."
"Um, thanks." She didn't look like she was planning to call.
She didn't.
Friday
I scrubbed my face in the icy cold water of the cheap apartment sink. I had paid good money to get a place far away from campus in a quiet neighborhood- I had had more than enough of late night drunk-dialers perched outside my building leaving incoherent messages in the voicemail boxes of their friends. Instead, I had a tiny studio apartment in St. Louis Park above a bookstore that was only open one day a week. Silence.
My shift had finished up just as the sun started to come up. I'd immediately collapsed into bed, sure I was going to pass out instantly, only to be awoken nearly every hour with dreams about a certain crying, dark-haired girl. My subconscious had replayed the car ride over and over, tweaking details here and there. Driving me fucking crazy. Finally, at noon, I gave up on sleep, stumbling out of bed.
Eyes bloodshot and heavy-bagged, I looked almost frightening when I checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror. Maybe I even looked frightening enough to get those damn freshman in the discussion section I led to stop texting while I was trying to lecture. One could only dream. The texting though- so fucking annoying. As if I couldn't see them, with their little jewel-encrusted phones under the desks, typing away noisily. So obvious. It was insulting how little effort they put into trying to conceal it.
No time for breakfast, and no time to pack a lunch. I grabbed an apple and my thermos of tea and headed out the door. I flipped through my notes for today's class while waiting for the city bus. My fellow waiters began to vibrate with impatient energy when the bus was two, three, four minutes late. As a temporary member of the public transit industry, I had plenty of patience for this sort of thing. There were about a billion things that could go wrong between the garage and this bus stop- plenty to justify running four minutes late. A stocky, no-neck man in full business attire began to tap his foot and sigh heavily in irritation. Ridiculous. Take your damn car, man.
The bus pulled up to the stop. The harried driver, a middle-aged woman with frizzy grey hair, cranked open the door. She stared straight ahead to avoid the disdainful looks of her boarding passengers.
"Hey, Mary," I greeted her. She was always the driver for this route- how the other passengers justified not greeting the person who picked them up every single day was beyond me.
"Oh, hi Edward. How are you?" she answered, surprised. The person in line behind me coughed, urging me tacitly to move along. Dear God.
Intent on irritating the bastard further, I stalled.
"I'm fine, Mary. Thanks for asking. Nice weather today, yeah?"
She nodded, glancing behind me nervously, clearly uncomfortable. The Cougher cleared his throat. Loudly. Not wanting to be responsible for the man having an aneurism, and definitely wanting to avoid getting Mary in trouble, I gave her a final smile and headed down the aisle. Just a few seats left. One next to a very miserable, very pregnant woman and one next to…ah. I'd found my target. College-aged guy in a white baseball cap, oversized book bag in the seat next to him, guaranteeing, or so he thought, that he wouldn't have to share the space with another breathing person. Tough luck.
I spent the bus ride comfortably reading an assigned text for class, semi-sadistically enjoying the way my neighbor appeared to be trying to force himself through the glass to avoid actual knee-on-knee contact with me.
Once on campus, I navigated the throng of students to get to the building where the class I was TA-ing was held, weaving through them quickly to make it on time. Suffice it to say, it wasn't a stellar lesson. I was impatient and distracted, fatigued from the shitty night of sleep.
"I'm sorry, everyone, if today has been a little nonsensical- if you have any questions about cognitive dissonance, please come see me during my office hours or shoot me an email; I'd be happy to help you out," I offered, embarrassed. I could feel my face heating up. Why didn't I ever get over that, the blushing? What well-educated, non-virgin, twenty-six year old blushes?
The students noisily packed up their bags and left the room, eyes straight ahead. Zombies or sheep, take your pick. While I was certainly grateful for the hefty tuition discount and salary this position provided, the institutional monotony of "Introduction to Cognitive Psychology" every semester for the last three years was threatening to dash any remaining lofty notions about the virtues of a college education I had.
On the bus ride to the garage where the cabs were kept, I ate my rather pathetic excuse for a brown bag lunch that I'd hastily packed before I left this morning. Slightly mealy apple, cheap granola bar, and a thermos of now-cold tea- not enough food to last for an eight hour shift. God, I missed Esme. Meatloaf and tetrazinni and scalloped potatoes and I'm practically drooling. I started up the creaky car, turning the radio to the college jazz station. The afternoon passed quickly- the daylight crowd was significantly tamer than the midnight, bar hopping variety. Given the lack of sleep and level of distraction today, I was thankful.
One hour left to go. Then, approaching midnight, I found himself taking more calls from campus, unconsciously hoping that out of tens of thousands of students, one particular girl would happen to need another ride today.
Huh. Given the reason I chose this job, getting strangely, and immediately, attached to silent passengers was not expected. Or desired. I turned the car in the opposite direction, towards Saint Paul, taking a call on the other end of town.
A Week Later
I steered clear of campus cab calls for the next week, sticking to the busy business districts instead. The tips were better, and I didn't have to endure the embarrassment whenever I found himself disappointed every time someone wanting to be picked up near University and 15th turned out, inevitably, not to be her.
Last run of a busy night. 1:00 A.M. As the car idled, I decided to take whatever call came through. Campus origin. Shit. Well, my car is already pointed in this direction. I headed toward the address, trying not to let my mind go there, to the place where I finally got the girl's name, heard her life story, and could move on from this weird obsession. Pulling up to the corner, I peered into the dark, trying to make out the face of the girl standing under a bus shelter, waiting to be picked up. She held an oversized raincoat over her head while running to the car, but it was pointless. She already looked like a drowned cat, her long, loosely hanging hair coiled into thick ropes and her baggy clothes sticking to her diminutive body.
"Hennepin and 26th, please."
I nodded, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. I tried not to stare into the rear view mirror, but I was sure the voice was the same. Her hair was short now, almost boyish, but the voice was the same. I glanced into the mirror, reflexively.
"How'd you get home, that night?" I asked, immediately regretting it. This girl probably, no, certainly, had no recollection of ever meeting me. Shit.
The girl looked startled. "What do you mean?"
Great, now I'd scared her.
"Um, I picked you up? About a week ago?" Nothing- she still looked confused. "I think it was the same destination too- near Lake of the Isles?" Still nothing. "I gave you my card, so you could get a ride home?" Stop, stop, stop. Could I sound creepier? All I needed was a greasy mustache and protruding chest hair to complete the stalker image. Then comprehension dawned on her face.
"Oh, right- wow, you remember me? Good memory." She replied, smirking slightly.
"Of course I do." Shit. Of course I remember you, total stranger who I gave a ride to over a week ago. "I have a good memory for faces," I added. Because that helps.
I spent the rest of the drive in nervous quiet, nearly biting my tongue from all the things I wanted to ask her. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to start ranting about her out-of-state boyfriend's lack of support for her choice to drop out of school to pursue a career in pole dancing. Or something.
I pulled up to the corner.
"Twenty-one fif-"
She was practically throwing a twenty and a five at me.
"Thanks for the ride, again," she said quickly, already opening the door.
"Sure, no problem. Be safe." Be safe!? Where has my verbal filter gone? So now I'm her creepy, stalker, dad?
To my surprise, she actually smiled at this. Not a mocking smile, either, a real one. A damn cute real one.
I kept the car idling for a few moments after she left the cab, trying to come up with a valid reason for stalling besides wanting to see which direction she was headed. So creepy. Like, call-the-police creepy. She was headed away from the busy street, toward the lake. Why oh why, pretty, rain-soaked girl, do you have to be headed toward the isolated lake? Now I'm going to have to worry about you all night. Fuck.
That's the second night of sleep you've stolen from me.