John Saw It Coming

"I'm just going to the hotel and lay around until the cops say I can leave."

"When they say you can leave where are you going? Will you be flying or driving?"

"Going home to Baltimore, yes by plane."

"I am advising against flying for at least a week after you get out of here. We will arrange for a nurse to come by the hotel and change your bandages. Your insurance should take care of most of it. What hotel are you in? We'll let them know you're going to be here for a bit, then you'll need your room back."

The next month was a series of painful visits to the burn center to get his legs "sorted out." That hurt like hell. His goal was to walk the full distance around the hospital floor, which took him an astonishing amount of time to accomplish even with the physical torture he had to endure daily. They measured everything as he found out when he walked to the toilet the first time and pissed in the bowl. The nurse was livid when she heard the toilet flush, rambling about how it would throw off the measurements. A series of sponge baths which he found embarrassing, although the nurse always smiled at him.

She was insufferable. No one could be that nice and mean it. She doted on him like he was her only patient, she blushed when he became erect during the sponge baths. On one hand he was embarrassed and on the other just glad it still worked. She checked on him constantly. He hated being the center of attention.

Flowers came from people he had never heard of, the largest of which did come from Ms. Martin, as he thought of her. He did think of her often, those eyes, most of her music was bubble gum pop to him, but there were a few songs, where her voice was so clear, so mournful, he just fell in love every time he listened to it. He donated the flowers to the ward and all of the rooms in his hall had really nice flower arrangements with enough left over to decorate the nurses' station. They would bring boxes of mail to his room occasionally, he would pick three at random and have the rest taken away. They embarrassed him, he wasn't a fucking hero!

Finally came the time when he could take a shower. His burns were healed enough that he didn't have to wrap them, he was able to walk without too much pain and he could stand under the water spray. He had never felt anything that felt better than that first shower. Of course Nurse Cratchett was monumentally disappointed that he didn't need her to undress him. How could she still look cute with that look of frustration on her face?

He had pet names for them all, the cute young blonde was nurse Cratchett because she was insufferable, the way she doted on him. She couldn't be older than 24 but she acted 60. The PT people alternated between the lean athletic young guy who was dubbed Attila the Hun and the sweet, short, fat, old, black lady he named Lucifer because the only being that could enjoy inflicting that much fucking pain has to be the Devil. How she could be so brutal and so incredibly sweet and smile so gently the whole time he couldn't figure out. She definitely loved her grandchildren.

Three days later details were confirmed, bandages replaced again and John left the hospital in a cab. Nurse Cratchett kissed him in his wheelchair. He tried to avoid the wheelchair ride, but apparently the President of the United States couldn't avoid it if he wanted to. John laughed to himself thinking, that applies to both the kiss and the wheelchair. He was shocked when she slipped him some tongue!

When he arrived at the hotel there was a crowd gathered at the entrance. John pulled his key card and went in through the side entrance, surprised that it still worked. When he walked through the lobby he heard "there he is!" And a rush of people with microphones and cameras rushed towards him. He ducked back into the stairwell but could not move fast enough to avoid them without opening some of his recently healed wounds. Hobbling is not an Olympic sport for a reason.

The crowd caught him at the first landing. "Mr. Murphy, have you heard from Angela? How are you feeling? How does it feel to be a hero?" The questions came faster than he could consider them.

He turned on the landing and held his hand up in the international symbol for 'stop.'

"I will address three questions, then I am going to go lay down. Yes I have heard from Ms. Martin. She was very sweet. I'm tired and sore and want to lay down, not stand here and answer questions. Who asked what it felt like to be a hero?"

A middle aged well-dressed woman raised her hand like she was proud of the question.

"That was the dumbest question I have ever heard. I am not a hero, just in the wrong place at the wrong time and clumsy enough to make a difference. Thank you, now leave me alone."

"Are you sorry you saved Angela?"

"Ok, I stand corrected, that was even dumber. How do you come up with this shit? They pay you for that? Please, just leave me alone."

He turned, went through the door with them following him, walked to his room went inside, again surprised that his key card worked but very thankful, and leaned with his back against the door.

"Fuck!" He picked up the phone and called the front desk. "Can you get rid of these people?"

"The police are on their way Mr. Murphy, I'm sorry, we didn't know you were coming back today. We extended your stay through the end of next week. We kept your key active for you."

"Why would you do that?"

"We are all fans of Ms. Martin sir. We wanted to say thank you and she... she already paid your bill."

"I want to pay my way. Thank you."

"Oh, I couldn't do that sir, my boss would fire me."

"Well, thank you... Tell your boss that wasn't necessary but thank you. And if you speak to Ms. Martin please tell her thanks and stop. This is enough."

Angela sat in her New York apartment and watched the news reports. It had dropped to one of the evening news magazine shows by that time. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot, but those brown eyes, the ones she saw in her dreams... She had a start as she felt the pain in her chest. She wanted to reach out to him, to feel those strong arms she felt for only an instant. But, he couldn't be interested in her. Sure she had money, but she was making such a mess of her life, at least up until the day he knocked her over.

Since then she hadn't left her apartment. She played some piano, a little guitar, nothing serious. She watched for news of him. What did he do? Did he have a wife, a girlfriend, kids? Why wouldn't he talk to her? Why didn't he feel what she felt, in the second where time was suspended, before her world changed. She was glad Janice could find where he was staying, pay his bill. She wanted to meet him, to learn about him.

Ahmed sat back staring at the TV memorizing that face. He fucked up my plan. I will have revenge. He will die, Allah will make it so! He wanted to inflict pain, to kill many Americans. They bombed his village, killed his people, his family, they would suffer great loss. He had waited so long, and in that instant his damage had been mitigated. He must die!

John lived on pizza and diet soda for the next week. The pizza tasted a lot better on day one than it did at the end of the week. He had two more visits with the cops, one in his hotel room, one downtown at the station. He really couldn't tell them much more than he did in the hospital. They came in in teams, asked him the same questions over and over each time worded just a little different. He felt like they extracted more information from him but didn't have a clue of what they learned.

On the last interview the detective that interviewed him in the hospital sat with him. "The questions are over but we are hearing things about the groups responsible wanting to get even with you. We have to figure out how to cover your movements better."

"Not sure what you mean, I haven't been in contact with anyone other than my office. I still have to run my business."

"Yeah, but the media knew when you would get to the hotel, they were waiting for you. And Martin paid your bill. Someone is talking. You need to protect yourself."

"If I can just get home I can protect myself. This hotel shit makes it difficult."

"I'll fix this so you can go home. Just stay in touch with me and when we catch the doer you'll have to come back for the trial."

"Thanks."

He finally got his release from the cops and the Doctor and arranged his flight home. When he got to the Airport and checked in for his flight the woman behind the counter handed him his boarding pass. As John turned to leave he looked down and saw the boarding pass was for first class.

"Mam, I'm sorry this is for first class, I'm supposed to be in row 12 window."

"Yes sir, we received a call from Angela Martin's people that you were to have first class tickets."

"I can't take this. Can you just give me my regular seat please?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Murphy, the flight is sold out, your original seat has been sold."

John turned around and addressed the check in line. "Any one flying flight 6237 to Baltimore?" An older woman looked up and held her hand up.

"What seat are you in?"

"Umm I'm in row 16, window seat."

"Now you are flying first class, row 4 window seat" and he handed her his boarding pass and smiled at her.

"Mr. Murphy! We can't do that."

"No, you shouldn't do that but you can. Please reissue the boarding pass for her and give me her seat."

"But Ms. Martin..."

"Isn't here. Now do it."

"Yes sir."

When John landed in Baltimore it was quiet, late at night or more accurately early in the morning. He walked out to the curb waiting on the bus to his parking lot. He hoped his car would still be there. As he took his seat a guy hopped on the bus right as the door was closing and sat next to John.

"Are you the guy that saved Angela Martin?"

"You must have me confused me with someone else." John turned from him and looked out the windshield.

"I know you're that guy. Shit, can't remember your name. John something..." He grabbed the sleeve of John's jacket.

"Nice try, nope not the guy." He jerked his jacket from the guy's grip and looked forward once again. He felt fear, exhilaration, he watched the guy in his reflection in the window.

"Come on man... I need this, I've been here for a week looking for you, please... Give me something... I've checked every flight from LA or with connection from LA for a month."

John looked at him, seeing the want, the desire, desperation in his eyes. He was young, looked tired and hungry with an old army jacket and long hair. He was desperate and John felt he was not a threat. "I'll tell you what, here's my card, call me tomorrow and we'll work something out. If you ask me what it feels like to be a hero, you get nothing. It'll be exclusive. I will talk to no one else. If you give my contact information out... let's just say you won't like my reaction."

"I'll call you tomorrow. This is for real right?"

"It's for real but tell no-one until afterwards. Got it?"

"Yes sir! Thank you! My name's Mark, I'm just starting out. Thanks so much, this could be the break I need."

When John walked in the door to his house it was dark and very quiet. Every time he flew his ears rang when he walked in the house from the constant noise that is air travel and its comparison to the silence of his home. He knew it was late but also knew there was no way he was going to fall asleep. He walked to his desk and pulled his Springfield 40 caliber pistol from his desk, checked that it was loaded and set it back in the drawer. He liked guns, had since he was in the military, kind of collected them and had a couple rifles and a couple handguns, but this was his favorite.

Never could sleep after crossing the country. His phone rang and he looked at it. "Unknown number" he smiled looking at the TV. Must be Jake from State Farm. He smiled to himself at his inside joke, and it went unanswered.

He lay down on the couch, turned on the news and thought for the hundredth time, you really know when you're home by the newscasters.

'Why won't he answer?" Janice got his flight number and his home number. She had tracked his flight across country on Flight Aware so she knew when he landed. He had to be home from the airport by now.

His phone rang again.

'It's two o'clock in the morning. Who the hell is calling me repeatedly at two in the fucking morning?' Again the phone said unknown number

"What."

"Hi John, I'm sorry did I wake you?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Angela."

"Angela? oh, it's you. How did you get this number, how did you know I was getting home tonight? Wait, don't tell me, assistant Janice right? I'm going to need to talk to her. What can I help you with?"

"John, I want to see you. I want to thank you properly. Can you come to New York?"

"I can but I don't want to. Angela, you're a famous Pop star, I'm a working stiff. I don't have much but I have enough. The hotel was a nice gesture, the plane ticket was over the top. Please stop. You don't owe me anything and you of all people know it. Thanks, but stop."

"John stop being a dick. I just want to meet you. I'll come to you. Where are you, I mean where do you live?" The sound of his voice made her heart speed up. Low and gravely, sensuous vibrations. Sound was everything to her. It's what made her tick, and his voice hit spots that hadn't been hit in a very long time.

"Your assistant can probably tell you but I don't want you to come here. I don't need the news people interfering with my life again."

"Are they still bothering you?"

"Yeah, had a guy with a look of real desperation ask me for an interview tonight on the bus from the terminal to the car. I agreed to do an interview with him. It's going to be short, I really don't have much to tell. And hopefully that will be the last, maybe they'll leave me alone."

"John why don't you like me?" She was near tears. The dreams of his eyes just intensified her need to meet him, to learn about him.

"Didn't say that I didn't. You sing for a living, I know it's most likely harder than it looks, but I I've heard your stuff on the radio, seen you on TV. You seem real sweet but what are you really like? I think you may want to slow down a little if the stories are true, which I'm sure they're not. I don't know, figured I'd never find out for sure. The only 'personalities' I've ever met were from the local news and they were all pretentious and arrogant... I didn't want to find out that you're that on steroids. I like the image I have of you now and I'd like to keep it. I think you are a sweet young lady, that just needs a little direction in her life. I'm tired, I have to start getting caught up in the morning."

"What do you do? You said you play in the dirt, are you a scientist or something?"

"Or something. Angela, thanks for the call, it was sweet but I have to sleep. You don't owe me anything. You've said thank you, you're welcome. Maybe I'll see you sometime but I doubt it, we don't really float in the same waters."

"John, please let me come see you. Please?"

"Have a great life Angela." She didn't understand that he was embarrassed that all he could do is knock her down. Another failure when he should've reacted. He didn't know what he could've done but god damnit, he saw it coming. He should've been able to do something. Instead of doing something to protect all those people he knocked over "America's Sweetheart" and then fell on top of her. He can at least say he's seen her in person but her reaction to him at the time was fear and anger. Not the reaction he would want from any woman, particularly not from those eyes.

John hung up the phone and drifted off to sleep. He had the dream again, the bump, her going down hard, ending up on top of her and those gorgeous eyes. He couldn't forget her eyes, a light shade of blue, the crinkle of her brow, the fear, the anger all at once, then he woke up with a start, waiting for the boom... sweating. But those eyes... the dream was almost worth it.

Work settled into a routine after the initial reaction from walking into his offices. The routine was like it had been every day since the day. Not the bomb day, the other day that changed his life. His wife rutting in his bed with a co-worker. John rubbed his knuckles, the ones that had broken teeth. Her co-worker had been taken out by ambulance, John left in the back of a police cruiser and she just left. He had never hit a woman, it wasn't the way he'd been raised, but he almost wished it was different. At least he didn't end up in jail, he got off with a suspended sentence, and went on with his life.

The broadcast of the interview several days later was interesting. They focused on one answer when he was asked what was the one thing he remembered most of that fateful day? They played his answer over and over on TV. "Her eyes. She has beautiful eyes."

"Hello?"

"Hi John, It's me."

"Hello Angela. What do you need?"

"John, I know you're local, and staying overnight. Can I meet with you?"

"We've been over this, why? Our worlds are just so different. I don't have any fancy clothes and wouldn't like them if I did. How did you know I'm in Jersey?"

"I have my sources. I can't give them up."

"I'll fire her in the morning."

"You'll fire who?"

"Darla, my receptionist, or is it Sally my secretary, I'll fire both of them just to make sure I get the right one."

"John, come on, they've become friends with Janice, you know... my assistant? They know I want to meet you. It took Janice two months to get them to finally give us your agenda. Not many people could've held out that long. Like I said, Janice is something special. Especially when I pressure her like I have been."

"I'll have to meet her one day. She has to be an interesting but frightening woman."

"She's sneaky but effective."

"That's the frightening part."

"Angela, if we meet, can you let this go then? You already bought me a hotel room for over a month while I recovered, you tried to upgrade my flight home, that's enough, really. I didn't do anything but knock you down."

"John, if you meet with me, I'll tell you why it's so important."

"Come on Angela, really? If I meet with you this is over? Right?"

"John, if you have dinner with me I won't bother you again. If I make you uncomfortable then you can leave and I'll never call you again."

"Ok dinner. But here, in Jersey, not some high falutin place in the City. No limos, no paparazzi, no media, just you and me."

"My body guard Sonny will be with me, but he'll sit at another table."

"You're kidding right? A body guard? Where was he when you needed him?"

"He was in the parking garage, I was going to see my attorney, we... We thought I was safe. He still feels horrible about it. He wants to thank you too."

"I didn't do anything! Jeeze!" Almost a shout.

"You were between me and that bomb John, you kept me from being hurt, you saved me, you saved my career and most importantly you saved all those people by pulling the fire alarm. How many people would've been waiting by the elevator? They all started to run out of the building, how many of them are alive because of what you did?"

"And not a single one said thank you, know why? Rhetorical question..." He continued before she could interject. "Because they all know I did what anyone else would do. Not a big deal. The only one making a big deal out of it is you."

"Ok John, just meet with me. Please?"

He rolled his eyes but of course, she couldn't see that. "Ok dinner, if you even think about saying thank you for anything other than passing the salt, I'll leave. Deal?"

"That's a start. Deal John."

He sat at the table, it was 45 minutes after they were supposed to meet. He was dressed in a button down and jeans. This was a work trip, he was in the field and had no need for suits, or ties, or even a jacket. He did at least bring a pair of loafers but didn't bring anything but boot socks so his ankles showed he wasn't wearing any.