Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Afterward, I found a sunny place to sit and read Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. I’d watched the movie, so I was more than curious how it measured up to the book. It was a Friday afternoon, and instead of the city clearing out, it was gearing up for the weekend shows, concerts, and game. It felt good to ignore it for a while, but soon enough I needed to make the trek to the address listed on the voucher.
It seemed to take forever to get there, and as I waited for my clothes to wash and dry, I had an interesting chat with the woman using the washer beside me, whose kids were running around. She was a single mom, looked world-weary and exhausted, and it felt like the universe’s reminder that everyone had their struggles. I nearly told her that I’d either watch her clothes or the kids so she could take a break, but she seemed even less trusting than me. And damn, I got it.
By the time I set up my tent, it was dusk, and Darius, the man with the cardboard box, was in my usual spot. But I wasn’t greedy, just a creature of habit, so I chose a place closer to the coffee shop. I hid myself away from the crowd, hoping to get some shut-eye.
I dozed on and off, wondering what Foster was up to this weekend. He claimed to be a homebody, so did that mean he mostly stayed in reading, or did he ever go out with friends?
I’ll be sure to ask him, I thought around a yawn.
Next thing I knew, loud voices made me stir, and I realized I’d fallen asleep. I peeked outside, and based on the position of the moon, I figured it was well after midnight and the bars would be closing for the night.
A boisterous group of men and women walked by my tent, and I stayed very still, not wanting any trouble. I breathed a sigh of relief when the voices grew softer in the distance.
I felt a crick in my neck, so I must’ve slept wrong, or was feeling too tense. When moving my head side to side didn’t help, I stepped out of the tent, stood on the sidewalk, and stretched with my arms raised, hearing a satisfying crack.
That was when I felt someone brush against me from behind. The man grunted as he gripped a handful of my hair painfully, and then I was blinded by something he sprayed in my eyes. He pushed me hard as he ran away, and I stumbled forward, landing on my knees.
“Fuck!” I anchored my hands on the pavement as I leaned over coughing and gagging from the aerosol filtering into my throat. My eyes were burning, and I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.
I wouldn’t have been able to see my assailant even if I tried, but likely, he was already long gone. This time Darius hadn’t even roused—at least I didn’t think he was anywhere near me—so either he was sleeping or trying not to get involved.
Another minute more and I heard a car pulling up to the curb. I wondered if it was the police.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” It was Foster’s voice. “I was driving home from a charity event when I saw you. Do you need help?”
“I…can’t see.” I rubbed at my eyes, but all I could make out was the blurry outline of him. “I was sprayed in the eyes with something. They’re on fire.”
“Goddamn it! Come on.” He put an arm around me and shuffled me to his car.
My chest seized. “I can’t leave my things!”
“Let me get you situated in the passenger seat, and then I’ll round up your tent and cart.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled as I sank into his car. I panted openly, my eyes screwed shut as I waited for him to collect my stuff. How in the hell had Foster been driving by at that exact moment? Was he destined to help me a second time or what?
He placed my things in the trunk, and then he was in the driver’s seat and moving into traffic, taking me who knew where.
“No hospital.”
“I figured you’d say that. Driving you to my place to flush your eyes.”
He helped me from the underground garage to the elevator and up to his place, the warmth of his arm and skin soaking into mine. It was the only comforting thing amid the stinging in my eyes and throat and the buzzing in my ears.
“Stay back, Oscar,” he warned as he walked me into his apartment and toward the bathroom. When he ran the water, I got my hands under the stream and began fervently dousing my eyes with water.
“Be right back.” He left the room and came back a couple of minutes later with towels, one he draped over my shoulders. “How is it now?”