Gas, Food, Lodging

Maggie knew that she needed to relieve herself, and relatively quickly, before she had an accident and drenched the driver's seat of her old sedan. Under normal circumstances, she quite prided herself in being able to drive long distances without frequent pit stops. But these were not normal circumstances, and the roughly six pounds of baby tap-dancing on her engorged bladder was not helping matters. At seven and a half months pregnant, Maggie was definitely familiar with the changes in her body . She had escaped the morning sickness, varicose veins, heartburn, and (mercifully) hemorrhoids suffered by a number of pregnant women. But the need to empty her bladder every 20 minutes (or so it seemed) , was certainly an irritating symptom that had been unavoidable for the last month and a half or so. The constant pitter-patter of the drizzly rain on the windshield was only making the situation worse. She was driving on an unfamiliar stretch of road, and it seemed there had been not a single gas station, restaurant, or building of any kind for that matter, for at least the past half hour. As her urgency increased, she was very seriously considering stopping along side the road to go. But it was near 11:00pm now, cold and rainy outside, and the thought of squatting in the damp and dirty grass, was not a pleasant one. And just as she was getting ready to pull over, she saw the sign up ahead. "Gas, Food, Lodging". "Oh thank you Lord" , she whispered to herself and accelerated slightly, with relief in sight.

As she pulled up to the rest stop, she looked around and saw not one car besides hers in the parking area. This didn't really surprise her totally, it seemed she had been the only vehicle on the road for a while now. Hadn't that sign said "Gas, Food, Lodging"?, she wondered aloud to herself. There were no pump stations, restaurants, or hotels in sight. Refusing to admit that she was lost, and a little frightened, she forced herself out of the vehicle. The rest stop was not much to look at, to say the least. There was a grimy picnic table sitting in a small patch of grass. An older model vending machine of some kind, rather ridiculous looking really. And a small red brick building with a door on each side. One labeled 'men' and one 'women'. Taking one last cautious look around, she half trotted, half waddled to the building. She opened the door to the tiny women's room and stepped inside. An eerie darkness engulfed her immediately. She felt around on the wall until she found the switch and flicked it on. The ancient fluorescent light above her protested at first, and then slowly flickered on with an irritating buzzing sound. There was a single filthy sink, a mirror with a long crack right down the middle, and two bathroom stalls. Toilet paper littered the floor and unspeakable graffiti decorated the walls. She glanced in both stalls, surmised that the cleanest (by comparison only) was the one on the left, and made her way inside, bolting the lock behind her. She let out a sigh of relief as she squatted over the toilet, not daring to touch her skin to the seat. After what seemed like 5 minutes, she finished and glanced at the empty toilet paper holder. Typical. She pulled her pants back on and exited the stall, making a mental note to raise hell with the highway commission (or whomever was in charge of this type of thing) about the sad state of the place. Maggie walked up to the disgusting sink and examined herself in one side of the cracked mirror.

She was strikingly beautiful. She didn't know how beautiful, and that made it all the better. Droplets of water slipped from her raven curls and made their way down her chest. Her eyes were emerald green and somewhat troubled as she met them in the mirror. Pregnancy agreed with her. Her skin was all aglow. And the baby bump under her shirt was perfectly tight and round. Her hands found their way down there and pressed ever so slightly. As if in response, she was rewarded with a powerful kick... or maybe it was an elbow. "Oh baby, Mama really messed things up this time, didn't she?" Another kick. And an insistent rumbling from somewhere beneath the baby. She suddenly realized she hadn't eaten in hours, and she was starving. She turned the squeaky faucet handle to the "On" position and waited for the water to get warm. It didn't. Also there was no soap in the dispenser and no paper towels. Great. She washed her hands as best she could in the frigid water and dried them on her jeans. As Maggie exited the sorry excuse for a bathroom, the rumbling in her tummy started again. She walked past the mostly empty vending machine. Surely the sign hadn't been referring to that as food, she almost laughed. The rain had let up a little, so that was one good thing. She let herself into the car and locked the doors behind her. She reached around in the back seat until her hand fell upon the smallish, blue cooler she had stocked before her hasty exit. There was a bottle of water, 2 packs of peanut butter crackers, a banana, and a chocolate bar. Normally a very sensible eater, the chocolate bar was the baby's idea, not hers. But either way, she was glad to have it and devoured it first. She started into the first pack of crackers and began reflecting on her dire situation.

She'd had quite enough of her abusive, philandering, drunk of a husband. She needed a new start and a safe place to have his baby. She was headed to her Aunt Mary's house in Virginia. After the last episode with her husband had left bruises on her neck, she knew she had to get out. Her aunt was the only real family she had. Maggie's parents had died in a tragic car accident when she was only 12 years old. Aunt Mary, her mother's sister, had taken her in and raised her up. And when she met Phillip at the tender age of 17, she was lost. It was like the sacrificing of an innocent lamb to the hungry wolf. Phillip was older, 22 at the time, and more experienced. He was her first, truth be known, her only. Aunt Mary never approved of him, but Maggie was in her rebellious stage and ran off with him as soon as she finished high school. Phillip had a good job as a construction worker, his own apartment, and an infectious laugh. He was tall and handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and beautifully tanned from the hours he spent outdoors. But he had a temper. Ooh did he ever. Of course Maggie never saw it until it was too late. They were married when she turned 18 (despite a grand protest by Aunt Mary) and moved to Pennsylvania shortly after ; Philip had landed a construction job up there. Things were good at first, great even. Maggie was playing house. Her aunt had taught her how to cook and she had a wholesome dinner on the table promptly every night at 6:00. Phil came home from a hard day's work to a hot meal and loving wife. But it soon became apparent that he wanted more. He became very controlling. As a result, Maggie had no friends ,and had virtually severed ties with her beloved, but disapproving Aunt. Maggie was virtually imprisoned in her own house. He allowed her out once a week to do the grocery shopping, but demanded to see the receipt when she returned. Phil started drinking, even on weeknights, and more than once Maggie felt the sting of his backhand when she had upset his temper. Even then, she loved him still.

Fast-forward 3 years. She found herself pregnant and alone. She would never forget the night she told him the news. She prepared Phil's favorite meal, lasagna, and waited anxiously for him to get home from work. He burst through the door, muttering something about an 'idiot electrician', breezed right past her and opened the fridge searching for a beer. But there was no beer to be found. Maggie, in all her excitement about the pregnancy, had forgotten to pick up his case of beer after her weekly shopping trip. He turned to her with real rage in his eyes : "Where in the Hell is my Beer?" Oh this wasn't gonna be good. It was going all wrong. She had ignorantly envisioned showing him the pregnancy test and him embracing her and assuring that he would change his ways. Instead he lunged at her and grabbed her by the neck. And although she was familiar with his temper by now, she had never seen him this angry and she was genuinely scared. He looked like a monster with his face contorted in rage and he was squeezing her neck so she could scarcely breathe. Fearing for her own life and the tiny baby inside of her, she forced the word "pregnant" out of her constricted throat, before he could truly strangle her. His hand relaxed a little and he looked at her blankly.. "What did you say?", he hissed. "I'm pregnant' , she repeated, a little louder this time, with tears streaming down her face. He relented his hold on her, and went and sat down at the table. She sank down into the corner like a scolded child. "Are you sure", he asked, the color draining from his face. She nodded towards the counter, where the little stick with the two pink lines lay. And, stupid though it was, she almost still expected some kind of positive response from him, once he got his bearings.. Instead she got.."how far?" "About 2 months, I'd guess" she answered. Something like a flicker of hope spread across his face and he said, coldly, "Good, then there's still time to take care of it". At first she looked at him questioningly, she didn't even understand what he meant. And then all at once it became clear to her. He wanted her to have an abortion. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of Maggie's rude awakening. The next day, while he was at work, she gathered what few belongings she had, caught a bus into the city, and checked herself into a battered women's shelter. She never heard from Phil, she hadn't expected to, really. She figured that he was relieved to be rid of her and the child he never wanted. She was correct.

She had no money, no job, no friends, no family. And no idea what she was going to do. She made herself useful by helping with the cooking and cleaning at the shelter. She was welcome there for as long as she needed. And she made friends there quickly, marveling at how many women had similar stories to her own. She had become a cliche'. And she was ashamed. But this was no place to have a baby, and the time was getting shorter and shorter. One day, she opened her tattered copy of Jane Eyre . It had been a gift from her aunt, on her 13th birthday. Her favorite story, it was one of love, sadness, desperation, cruelty, hope, forgiveness, and ultimately, real happiness. She hadn't opened the book since before she had left Virginia. And when she did, a small scrap of paper fell onto her blossoming belly. It was a note from Aunt Mary. And though she had left in the midst of anger and disagreements, it was a kind note with her Aunt's phone number and address printed in shaky handwriting at the bottom. It said "My dear Maggie, you are like my own daughter, and I love you more than anything. You're making the wrong choice, running off with Phil. He's no good for you. When you realize your mistake, whenever that may be, come back home to me. I'll always be here for you, no matter what has happened between us... Love, Mary" And so it seemed to be a kind of sign. After a deeply emotional reunion (over the phone), she was invited unconditionally back to her Aunt's in Virginia. The girls at the shelter were sad to see her go, but knew it was the best thing for her. They took up a collection, and with a little help from the shelter director, Maggie had enough spending money to buy an old sedan, with some leftover for food and gas.

It was a junky rust-bucket, but as long as it got her from Pa to Va, she didn't care. It was about a 7 hour drive, give or take. She had gotten directions from the single Internet capable computer at the shelter, mostly used for job searches.

After Maggie had satiated her (and baby's) appetite with the chocolate bar, both packs of crackers, half the banana, and three quarters of the bottled water, she leaned back into the seat and closed her eyes in exhaustion. No use looking at her directions now. She knew she was gonna have to deal with the fact that she had clearly taken a wrong turn somewhere. If she could only rest, just for a few seconds, she would be able to focus better. Two hours later, she awoke with a start, to someone tapping on her drivers window with a flashlight. For a minute, she had forgotten where she was. Then it all came flooding back to her and she realized she had slept much too long. She was in a dark, isolated rest area, with a stranger tapping impatiently at her window. Her heart thudded in her chest as her startled eyes took him in. He wasn't particularly tall, medium build, probably middle-aged, Caucasian, wearing a red hoodie, jeans, and a scruffy beard. He wore a look of annoyance on his face, but didn't seem otherwise threatening. She glanced at her door locks to make absolutely sure, and then slowly rolled the window down about an inch.

"Hey, you lost or what?", he practically barked at her. And in the 3 seconds or so that it took to answer him, her mind raced. Should she ask for help? Should she pretend that she knew exactly where she was? There was something menacing in the way he seemed so irritated with her. Something that reminded her of far away time, when Phil had been drinking too much. "No, not lost" she said,"Just stopped to rest a minute is all." "I'll be on my way now, thank you for asking". He looked at her and shook his head. He muttered something that sounded like "damn fool woman" and disappeared into the darkness beyond the rest stop. But where was his vehicle? Where in the devil had he come from? Was he just out wondering around in the dark at 1:30 in the morning? She didn't like the looks of this at all. And although she needed to pee again (surprise,surprise), there was absolutely no way in hell she was leaving the safety of her car with a strange man lurking around.

She turned the key and felt relieved when the car started right up, because it was a junk-bucket after all, and sometimes temperamental. But it was short-lived. As soon as she started pulling away, she heard an awful thumping and felt the car rolling unevenly on the gravel. She threw it into park again. A Flat?? Are you kidding me?!!!!! I checked every one of those damnable tires before I left the city. She hung her head and contemplated her next move. She really was in trouble now. She didn't own a cell phone, and doubted there would even be service here if she had. There was no one around for miles. No one, that is, except , of course, for Mr. Creepy Guy. And then all at once it dawned on her. She hadn't had a flat when she pulled into this place. And the car hadn't moved since then. So how did she get a flat? I suppose it was feasible that she'd had some sort of slow leak, and during her extended naptime, enough air had escaped to make the tire noticeably flat. She was really trying hard to convince herself of that scenario, while her mind wrapped itself around a much scarier one. Mr. Creepy Guy. He could have snuck up and slashed a tire while she was sleeping. So that she'd have no way to escape him. Oh my God, please please let it be the first one, she thought. She needed to get a look at that tire, but she was too terrified to get out of the car. And what was she gonna do if she did look at it? She didn't need to see it , to know that it was flat. Not drivable. She thought there was a spare in the trunk, but she'd no clue how to put it on. And she was huge with baby! She couldn't exactly be hefting tires around. The gravity of the situation bore down upon her and a chill raced up her spine.

She told herself, somewhat unconvincingly, to 'get a grip'. She'd been through hell with Phillip and survived, she could figure this one out. It was nearly 2 am now, so that meant daylight was about 4 or 5 hours away. She had no intention of wandering around in the dark. If she could wait it out til morning, she could walk back up to the road and try to flag someone for help. And while spending the remainder of the night inside the car was an unsavory thought at best, it seemed her only real option. What if he came back? What would she do then? Well I guess we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it, a favorite saying she had learned from Aunt Mary. (Aunt Mary, who was expecting her arrival within the next few hours and had no idea of the trouble Miss Maggie had gotten herself into this time.) The baby gave a not-so-gentle nudge to her bladder, and she nearly wet herself.
She was still afraid to get out of the car. She glanced at the mostly empty water bottle on the seat next to her. She considered. And then decided she was being completely ridiculous and there was a perfectly fine (disgusting) restroom not five feet from the car. She looked out every window for any signs of Mr. Creepy, and
not finding any, she unlocked the driver door. In one swift motion, she threw open the door and bolted for the bathroom. She made it inside, flicked on the light switch, and ducked into her 'favorite' stall, locking the door. She did her business as quickly as possible, didn't bother to flush or wash, and hightailed it back to the car. Once inside, she let out a sigh of relief, and clicked the door lock into place. She looked all around, saw no one, and settled clumsily into her seat. Sleep was pretty much out of the question for now.

The first hour or so passed slowly, too slowly, but was uneventful. She thought of baby names to pass the time. It helped that she did not yet know the sex of the baby. Twice as many names to consider. First she went through girl names. She liked Abigail, Ava, Emma, Hannah, Madeline, or perhaps Olivia. Boy names were much harder for her. She systematically went down through the alphabet, choosing one name that began with each letter. She had made it as far as Patrick and was contemplating some rather ridiculous "Q" names, when she saw Mr. Creepy heading towards her with something in his hand. It was a tire iron.

And here I let you draw your own conclusion. Was the man dubbed "Mr. Creepy" actually just a nice guy looking to help out a lost, desperate woman with a flat tire? Or was he a serial murderer, planning to bludgeon her to death with a tire iron? Did Maggie ever make it to her dear Aunt Mary's in Virginia, have her baby, and live happily ever after? Or was she never heard from again? You decide.