Jim hid behind his privacy-tinted windows and dripped blood on his leather-trimmed bucket seats.
He cursed at the thought of spending an extra $75 on detailing with no guarantee they’d be able to remove the bloodstains. He breathed deep and escaped into the dripping of blood. Pit. Pit. Pit. The steady rhythm reminded him that the crimson puddle came straight from his own heart. Spontaneous meditation slowly blossomed into ill-advised euphoria and he convinced himself that he’d never felt more blessedly alive.
The taste of blood, the painful throbbing, the sweaty smell of his own fear, the spaciousness of his 4-door SuperCab—it all made him feel larger than life, like a wounded hero on the big screen. A sweet and sorrowful benevolence swept through him. Pity those who would never experience emotion so deeply, so completely.
He laid his head on the steering wheel—the leading man in a Hollywood film, sensitive but hard—gathering himself before he stuck it to the world.
The horn shrieked in protest, and Jim bolted upright, a nervous shock blowing heroic notions to smithereens.
Two kids walking past the front of the truck retaliated for the undeserved blast. The girl gave him the blowjob signal with the bobbing fist and tongue inside the cheek. The boy blew him a kiss and smacked his ass.
Jim started crying.
His wife was going to find out. His boss was going to find out. He was screwed. Jan would tell everyone in the office.
What was he going to do?
Wrong question, he told himself. I need to think big. What would Doubleya do?
Doubleya’d stick to his guns. He always sticks to his guns. He shapes his own reality.
I can do that. I’ve gotta shape my own reality. It’s not a lie if you believe it.
“And I want, I need, Somehow to believe, In the choice I made…” The angelic voice of Natalie Maines came to him from nowhere, like a sign from above.
Jim caught up with Jan outside the Cinnabon. He held her hands as if he couldn’t let go. He looked deep into her eyes and tried to see her soul.
“Please listen,” he said. “I panicked … I can’t say I love you. I’m married. But believe me when I say that I can’t bear the way you look at me with those hungry eyes. It drives me crazy to see the way you fill the space around you and devour all that life offers. Sometimes, when you’re in the room with me, it takes all my strength not to scream.”
Jim pleaded from his heart, “Please forgive me. My life is hard enough just being near you. Please forget today ever happened and let us both move on.”
