We'll be home for Christmas

"Natalie? You okay?" He asked.

My mind clicked back into full and present company and I swung my arms violently around over my head. I could feel my swinging fists land a few good shots on his face and body.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you worthless piece of shit!" I roared.

Eric stumbled backward and I got to my feet. Lucy was gathering Eric up in her arms and checking him for damage. He was bleeding badly from his nose.

"Don't you ever fuckin' touch me again! Either of you!" I screamed.

"Natalie, please!" Lucy begged.

"Go to hell you miserable fucking whore!" I snapped.

I couldn't remember a time in my life when I'd ever been so angry or when I'd had such an overwhelming desire to physically hurt somebody. I actually wanted to kill. Spitting profanity like a street walking Bronx hooker, I hobbled to the drivers' side door and got in. Starting the engine, I took a quick second to try and collect myself as best I could. My face was a sloppy mess of snot, tears and of all things, sweat. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I suddenly realized that I was burning up. My insides felt like they were on fire. For the first time in my life, I was completely consumed by seething hatred.

I hated Eric and Lucy with a mortal passion. Eric Lawrence and Lucy Vidor; two people who not more than fifteen minutes ago, where two of the dearest people on Earth to me. I guess it's true what they say, that there definitely is a very thin line between love and hate. I didn't like feeling this way; being this full of hate and rage was actually starting to scare me. But at the moment, it was the only way I was going to get through this with my sanity intact. Slamming my right foot down on the accelerator, the tires spun wildly as they skidded slowly backward on the ice searching for dry pavement. I could see Eric and Lucy fleeing for their lives in the rear view mirror as I let off the gas and hit the brakes. When I finally came to a stop, I threw it in drive and punched the gas again. This time the tires gripped immediately and I sped off into the frozen North Dakota night. A few moments later, I was racing on to Interstate 29 and heading south toward Fargo.

It's nearly ninety miles, about an hour and a half long drive from Grand Forks to Fargo. By the time I entered the Fargo City Limits, my ankle was hurting so bad that I could barely concentrate on driving. I needed medical attention. Having been to Fargo several times with Lucy, I knew it well enough to know where the county hospital was. I parked right in front of the emergency room entrance and practically had to crawl inside. An X-ray determined that nothing was broken; just a bad sprain. So while the nurse wrapped me up in an ace bandage, the doctor wrote me a script for some painkillers and a pair of crutches. Wheeling me down to the pharmacy where I got my pills and crutches, I then did my best impression of Tiny Tim over to the discharge desk for the raping of my insurance company.

The Journey

The sun was just coming up over the tiny skyline of Fargo as I hobbled out of the hospital on my crutches. I pulled another pair of socks out of my duffle bag along with one of Eric's tennis shoes that he had stuffed in my bag the night before. I got back in the car, pulled both socks over my injured foot and then slipped on his size 11 shoe to protect it. A few minutes later I was turning westward on Interstate 94 as the sun was now completely clear of the horizon behind me. The throbbing pain in my ankle practically drove me to tears and I wanted so much to down five or six painkillers; but with such a long drive ahead, that was completely out of the question. Besides, I needed the pain to keep me awake. I hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours and now after the hospital co-pay, I had no money to pay for a motel room. All I had was a gasoline credit card to get me home. I only hope it wasn't maxed out.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all fuck off and die! Especially Natalie Bennett."

Despite the freezing cold, my old Chevy Nova was holding up remarkably well and I was making fairly good time. About seventy miles east of Bismarck, I couldn't hold it anymore; I had to pee. I pulled into a rest area in the middle of the frozen tundra and hobbled on my two newest best friends into the ladies room. At least I knew that these two friends wouldn't fuck me over and if they did, it would be my own fault. Doing my utmost not to let any part of my body touch the freezing and filthy commode as I relieved myself, I pondered that thought. Had Eric and Lucy's infidelity in anyway been my fault? Lucy? Absolutely not! She's just a backstabbing slut and a whore. Eric? No! I put out for him plenty and he never once complained that I was a bad fuck. But then again, he never really said anything at all. Okay, he did comment that I needed to work on giving better head, but other than that I'd say I pleasured him exceptionally well. He also commented that my vagina was extremely tight, but I always took that as a compliment. And so what if I refused to let him fuck me in the ass! That's really disgusting.

In all honesty, I didn't really enjoy sex and I guess it could have inadvertently become obvious to Eric while we were doing it. If I'd learned anything about men it was that they love to fuck and they love to know that they are good at it. They also love to know that the women they're fucking are really enjoying it. Or do they? The longer I hunched over the commode on my throbbing ankle, the harder I began to mind fuck myself. I loved Eric, didn't I? Yes! I think so! And as such, I did whatever I could to make him happy, didn't I? Fuck, I don't know! If he wasn't happy, then why didn't he talk to me about it? Simple, he had Lucy to talk to about it while he fucked her! And since he had a whore like her to fuck in the ass and to suck his cock like the chrome off a trailer hinge, its no wonder he forgot about how unhappy he was with me.

The hate was surging through my veins like boiling acid and practically eating me alive; only now it had taken on a third target - me! I finished my business and hobbled back out to the car on my crutches, cursing myself for a prude. Wrestling my crutches into the backseat, I dug my keys out of my pocket, slid them into the ignition and turned the key. If you've never heard an automobile engine throw a rod, be grateful; for it means that your engine is permanently shot, never to run again. The sound is unmistakable and when you hear it on a frigid December morning in the middle of the North Dakota plain, thousands of miles from home with your heart broken, your soul crushed and your badly sprained ankle throbbing, you truly want nothing more than to lie down and die.

I staggered back out into the biting cold and hobbled over to a nearby park bench along the sidewalk, crying piteously. Letting my crutches drop aimlessly to the ground, I buried my face in my ice cold hands and sobbed. Even though the sun was out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the cold was as merciless as the arctic itself and the wind bit at the exposed skin of my hands, face and neck like hundreds of baby sharks. I got so lost in my emotions that I didn't even hear the approaching footsteps crunching through the snow. It wasn't until I felt a gloved covered hand gently squeeze my shivering shoulder that I realized I wasn't alone. Peering through my fingers that were still over my eyes, I saw a pair of light tan hiking boots standing on the cement in front of me.

"You okay, honey?" A very soft and gentle female voice asked.

For a split second, it was my Mom. I heard my Mom's sweet voice and I felt a gust of warm and healing spirit rush through my aching soul.

"Mom!" I called.

My head sprang up like a knee jerk and I found my gaze caught by a beautiful pair of eyes that were every bit as warm and welcoming as my mother's baby blues; but these eyes were hazel and they were, without a doubt, two of the most captivating eyes I'd ever seen. Wiping up my tears and snot on my frosty sleeve, I shook my head and focused more clearly on the quite formidable, but very attractive woman who was standing before me. She was easily 6'2" with flowing dark brown hair draping down to the tops of her shoulders and highlighted with the occasional faint streak of blonde. Her neck was long and sleek, wrapped in a thick red scarf and there was a faded green John Deer ball cap on her head with a pair of sunglasses mounted on the rim.

She wore a dark blue denim jacket heavily lined by thick white wool. Her jeans were a very faded shade of blue, obviously the oldest and most comfortable pair she owned and they wonderfully accentuated her immaculately curved hips and firm thighs. Spit-balling her age to be somewhere in her thirties, she was suddenly squatting before me, resting her hands on my shaking knees and I was again looking into her deep, caring eyes. Getting a much closer and clearer look now at her face, I did a sudden double take as my stomach filled with a swarm of butterflies and my heart skipped a beat. I was staring directly into the face of my all time favorite movie star, Michelle Pfeiffer.

Shaking my head again, I sighed deeply followed by sniffing and snorting up more snot.

"Sweetie, can you hear me? Hey! Honey?" The woman asked softly.

"Yeah." I finally sputtered. "Yeah, I'm okay. This just hasn't been my day."

"Apparently not." She offered.

"Uh, are you Michelle Pfeiffer by any chance?" I asked.

"Michelle Pfeiffer?" Her eyes bulged. "You mean Michelle Pfeiffer the movie star?" She continued.

The woman chuckled as a beautiful smile lit up her face and I felt another gust of comforting warmth rush through me.

"No, I'm afraid not. But thank you. I needed that." She said.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you look so much like her." I replied.

"Honey, there's nothing to be sorry about. To tell a woman that she looks like Michelle Pfeiffer is a wonderful compliment. I'm Erica." She said.

As her name cleared her lips, I felt my entire collection of internal organs tumble into my feet. I've always been one to believe that God has a wonderful sense of humor, but this was certainly not the time for him to show it. Of all the names in the world, why Erica? I suddenly felt like I was a fire ant on top of my hill and God was an ugly little kid holding a magnifying glass over me in the burning sunlight.

"Erica?" I stammered.

"Uh-huh. Erica Abbott. What's your name?" She said.

"Your name is Erica?" I stammered again.

"All my life." She said.

"Gee, thank you God." I mumbled sarcastically to myself.

"Why? What's wrong? You don't like it? Well, you can call me Michelle if you really want to." She continued pleasantly.

"No, it isn't that. I'm sorry; I just have a problem with the male root word of your name. Or derivative or whatever the hell it is." I babbled.

Erica's eyes filled immediately with an unmistakable look of personal understanding and her beautiful face softened with heartfelt compassion.

"Oh, now I get it. You just had your heart torn out by some asshole named Eric, didn't you?" Erica said softly.

Lowering my head to try and hide the tears welling up in my eyes again, I merely nodded quickly as my body trembled at the mention of his name.

"What's your name?" Erica whispered gently.

"Natalie." I choked. "Natalie Bennett."

"That's a pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty girl." Erica said.

I did my best to look up at her and smile, but the tears were racing down my quivering cheeks and snot clogged my nostrils. I ran my sleeve over my nose and sniffed.

"It was another girl, wasn't it?" Erica gently queried.

"Yeah. My best friend." I practically gagged.

Erica sighed deeply as she shut her eyes and lowered her head in sympathy. I had no way of knowing for sure, but I instinctively felt that Erica had experienced my current agony firsthand.

"Sweet Jesus, don't you just love friends like that." Erica jabbed.

"With friends like that who needs enemies, right? Fucking whore!" I snarled.

"So Natalie, I'm assuming that's why you're out here all by yourself, isn't it? You're on your way home for Christmas and he was supposed to come with you. But now you think your life is over and you'd just as soon curl up in a ball and die." Erica offered.

Erica's dead-on assessment of my predicament totally overwhelmed me and there was no way I could stop the flood of tears now drowning out my eyes. I slapped my hands over my face and sobbed uncontrollably. The next thing I knew, I felt myself being pulled gently forward and my head was coming softly to rest on the surprisingly warm denim on Erica's broad shoulder; her arms went around me, consuming my petite frame like a warm blanket in a powerful but very comforting embrace. It was so strange. Except for her name and the fact that she looked exactly like Michelle Pfeiffer in the face, I knew absolutely nothing else about this woman. She was a total stranger that had now been in my life for less than two minutes, yet I felt perfectly at ease and comfortable with her. Holding me snuggly in her arms, I felt completely safe and genuinely cared about. Breathing slowly and deeply as to pull myself together, I noticed a delightfully clean and fresh scent on Erica. It wasn't any kind of perfume, but rather just a refreshing scent of natural sweetness. It wasn't long before I realized how much I was enjoying breathing this woman in. I immediately thought of what my grandmother used to say about being able to smell other people's souls. She said that when a person had a naturally sweet, clean and fresh scent emanating from their body, like Erica did, what you were smelling was the purity of their soul. More to the point, it was the divine fragrance of the Holy Spirit dwelling within them.

I finally sat back and Erica released me. Looking gently at me, she pulled her gloves off and began rubbing my frozen little hands between her much larger and wonderfully warm ones.

"Sweet Jesus honey, I could feel these ice cubes on my back through three layers of clothing." Erica said.

"I'm sorry." I replied.

"There we go. So, why are you sitting out here in the cold? I can think of a lot better ways to kill yourself than freezing to death." Erica asked.

"My engine threw a rod. I'm stranded here." I told her.

"Oh shit." Erica said. "When it rains it pours, doesn't it?"

(N) "Tell me about it."

(E) "Don't you have a cell phone?"

(N) "Can't get a single out here. Besides, I don't have anyone I can call within a thousand miles of here."

(E) "Where you headed?"

(N) "Seattle."

(E) "Seattle?! Seattle, Washington?"

(N) "Yep. And this was gonna be the first time the whole family has been together in almost seven years."

(E) "No kidding. Tell me something, Natalie: do you believe in miracles?"

(N) "It's Christmas, isn't it? Why?"

(E) "Because I'm heading for Seattle myself."

My head sprang up only to be greeted by another beaming smile on Erica's face. My heart skipped another beat and my whole body turned to Jell-O.

(E) "So I guess you're coming with me."

(N) "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that."

(E) "You're not asking. I'm telling. Now come on. I'll have you home in time for Christmas dinner."

Erica stood up and thrust my crutches at me. After collecting my duffle bag, Erica slung it over her shoulder and walked protectively along side me as I hobbled on my crutches across the slippery parking lot toward her ride.

"So, where are you parked?" I asked naively.

"Right there." Erica pointed.

I stop suddenly and stared in awe at the Classic XL '70 inch raised roof sleeper cab Freightliner tractor that Erica was pointing directly at. She was in pristine condition with a deep royal blue finish, freshly waxed and sparkling in the bright sunshine. Her stacks, wheels and fuel tanks all appeared to be brand new with the chrome of all polished to an immaculate shine. As we approached, I could hear her CAT engine purring like an alpha-female Tyrannosaurus Rex and she was pulling a classic 53' Great Dane dry freight trailer that was a sparkling shade of off white.

"That rig there?" I sputtered.

"Yes, ma'am!" Erica chirped proudly.

"You're a trucker?" I asked like an idiot.

"It's the latest thing; called equal opportunity employment." Erica joshed.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you see women can now fly airplanes, be doctors, lawyers, run for President; hell, we can even drive eighteen wheelers." She continued.

"How about being a comedian?" I fired back.

"Very good!" She teased.

Erica tossed my duffle bag into the sleeper and then helped my crippled ass climb up into the passenger seat of the cab. Buckling me in, Erica then jumped out the drivers' door to do a quick walk-around while I marveled at the cab interior. This big baby was state of the art in every respect and loaded to the gills with all the latest bells and whistles. The interior paneling, carpet and seats were charcoal grey, both the driver and passenger seats were air cushioned and I couldn't get over how clean and organized everything was. There was a heavenly aroma of fresh cinnamon potpourri all through the cab and there wasn't a scrap of paper or any other discarded item of garbage anywhere on the shiny floorboards. I'd ridden in many big truck tractors in my life, but I had never seen one that was this clean or smelled so good. And then again, I'd never ridden with a lady trucker before. There were twin bunk beds, both made up to military specs. There was also a 12 inch television set, DVD player, laptop computer with wireless internet, satellite radio, CD player and disc changer; the works! I couldn't be certain, but I think I was actually getting turned on.

Erica climbed up into the drivers' seat a moment later and made a quick note in her log.

"This is the most beautiful truck I've ever seen. It's so clean and organized." I told her.

"Hey, a woman's home is her sleeper cab." Erica chuckled.

In a quick flurry of movement, Erica buckled her seatbelt, released the air brakes on both the tractor and trailer, stepped on the clutch and shifted into first gear. Within seconds the great vehicle came to life, crawling gently forward under Erica's skillful hand and we were soon cruising at 60 miles per hour down Interstate 94 heading west. For the first time since walking in on Eric and Lucy last night, I was actually able to relax and let my mind be at peace. Despite the fact that I had disobeyed the longest standing order my parents had ever issued, which was to never hitch-hike; here I had basically done it, yet I had absolutely no fear or worries about it whatsoever. Though I couldn't explain it, there was just something about Erica that totally captured me and I knew deep in my heart that I was in the best of hands and perfectly safe with her.

With a fresh rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins upon climbing into this awesome rig, I was suddenly wide awake and I opened the flood gates of my mouth, spilling the whole story of Eric and Lucy in detail to my new guardian angel. As the day wore on, Erica and I conversed almost non-stop about everything and anything. Erica is 32 years old and originally from Durham, North Carolina. She too, is the youngest of three siblings, having an older sister and brother. Her parents now live in Miami while her sister now lives in Sydney, Australia with a husband and two children while her brother is serving a prison term somewhere in upstate New York. Her father and uncle were over-the-road truckers and that's how she got her training as a truck driver when she was eighteen. She had moved out to Seattle about eight years ago when she went to work for an Everett based transport company, and now, thanks to some wise investing and smart money management, this beautiful tractor belonged to her lock, stock and barrel.