My Intuition Never Lies
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“I want to see her,” I said, and then immediately felt foolish. The words seemed so ridiculous now. What would I possibly be able to do? How could I get her to tell me anything that she wasn’t going to tell the police anyway?
“She’s probably just some little kid who got into a stupid mess of trouble with an older guy and he’s threatening to sell her out to protect himself,” I told myself. That was always one of my favorite lines: “It’s not worth it; I’m too smart for jail.”
And yet, there were plenty of guys who thought they’d beat the system only to wind up behind bars. It was a lesson that never left you. So how did someone like him keep getting away with such things? Did his lawyer convince him that he wouldn’t go down in flames over something like this?
Or maybe that’s what he actually believed—that no matter what happened to him, he’d survive because his family had connections or money enough to pay off the right people. But if he did believe that, then why hadn’t he done whatever he needed to do years ago? Why hadn’t he taken steps to ensure his own safety and his future?
He was probably too dumb to see what was happening before it was too late. He was probably too arrogant to realize when things might fall apart for him.
But I didn’t really believe any of those things. There had been other guys before him who had seen all their plans start to crumble around them and they’d still gotten away clean. They’d found ways to make the best of the situation and live happily ever after.
Maybe the reason I couldn’t understand how the guy I knew could have gotten himself in trouble was because my life was too boring by comparison. If there was one thing I could count on having from one day to the next, it was my own stubbornness.
If you asked me, it was more about the way I saw things than it was about anything else. When something bothered me, I was determined to figure it out and do something about it—even if that meant making a fool of myself. No matter what came at me, I was never surprised.
My Intuition rarely lied. And sometimes that’s exactly how I wanted to be. Because then I could decide whether I liked a person or not—and know that even if they weren’t good enough for me, I was still capable of being happy without them. Like the time we first met:
I’d been sitting on the couch, bored as hell, and trying to ignore the sound of a TV show that my roommate was watching. It was pretty obvious that he had nothing better to do either: I had the place to myself since our girlfriend decided to head off on a trip with her new boyfriend and his friends, leaving us both alone in the apartment for ten days straight.
And when that happens, you can bet that you’re going to be miserable. So I wasn’t really sure why he chose to stay home instead of joining her on the vacation.
But anyway, there I was, watching some terrible sitcom where two guys were pretending to have a relationship so they could get close to the girls they really loved: “The girl from the office!” and “The hot cheerleader!”
I wasn’t laughing because it was funny, and I certainly wasn’t paying attention because it had anything to do with me. It was just annoying because it made me think that all men are idiots who don’t deserve to live. I mean, how stupid was that?
To spend your life with someone you hate? That’s like spending the rest of eternity eating shit sandwiches because that’s all the world is serving up. You’re never going to find happiness like that. I knew plenty of couples who were perfectly content together, but none of them would ever have dreamed of taking the easy path.
When I heard the phone ring, I picked it up and tossed it back onto the table. Who would call at eleven o’clock in the morning, anyway? Probably someone looking for work, wanting to come over and hang out for a couple hours until they realized that I was a loser without much going for me.
And then they’d go away and leave me to deal with my boredom on my own. As soon as I turned the TV off, that’s when my roommate started yelling at me because there was no telling when I’d get around to answering the damned phone. “Pick it up!” he demanded, and I just shrugged and ignored him.
I should have known then that he was a lost cause, that nothing was going to change his mind about me. Not even if I changed everything about the way I looked, acted, talked—everything. But I didn’t care because my Intuition had already figured out that if I wanted to be happy, I needed to do whatever it took to avoid having to live with the loser.
So I grabbed another beer and went to bed. And while I lay there thinking about how much I hated him and how he probably deserved a whole lot worse than I gave him (which wasn’t much), my Intuition whispered in my ear: “Call him.”
My heart sank as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little phone I always carried. My hand shook badly; I didn’t want to answer it. But I did it anyway.
“Yeah?”
I expected him to be angry because I had totally ignored him earlier. Instead, the words spilled from his mouth before he even got them under control: “Oh my god! Hi, I’m sorry I called you so late…you must have been sleeping…”
I rolled over in the middle of my bed, ignoring him. “What do you need, asshole?”
He stumbled to catch up, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain what he was calling about.
It seemed crazy, but when he finally finished, my Intuition told me that I shouldn’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers. The fact that he was desperate meant that he wasn’t going to be very discriminating in the choice he made.
Because if we ended up working together, he was going to learn to appreciate the things I did for him.
“You know those stupid movies we’ve been watching,” I said. “Well, maybe there’s something wrong with our television. We should test it out. Can you come by and bring the tools? I’ll pay you half price and we’ll call it even if you break it.”
I heard his feet thud against the floor as he hurried across the room. He was only five feet tall, so it wasn’t long before he was standing at my desk again. A few minutes later he was back, carrying a toolbox. “I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me, you never did anything for me—”
“I won’t say anything,” I promised.
We set up the television and ran the diagnostics, and it turned out that the screen was shot. I explained to him that I was willing to pay double-plus for an entirely new television—but first, he had to make the repair and give me a written estimate of how much it would cost me.
“Okay,” he grumbled. But as he went back to the truck, I felt confident that we’d have a great partnership.
***
The next week was pretty rough, though. I found myself wondering if this was really such a good idea. Why hadn’t we just stayed friends, hanging out and doing stupid stuff together like we used to?
Then one afternoon, after lunch, we were walking down the sidewalk together, talking about something random, and suddenly he said, “Hey, you still haven’t shown me what kind of car you drive.”
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. “Why are you asking me that?”
He laughed and shrugged. “Come on! You must own some sort of vehicle, right?”
“No.”
His face fell. “Seriously? I mean, why aren’t you driving a sports car or something cool like that?”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. Then I put my arm around his shoulder and tugged him close. “Because I don’t feel like wasting any more money on cars,” I confessed.
He grinned back at me and squeezed my waist. “I can believe that. That’s not a very manly thing to waste your money on.”
“But I have other things to spend it on.” I paused for a moment and then added, “Like clothes.”
And that sealed the deal for us. We started spending a lot more time together, and our relationship grew into a beautiful friendship. One day we might look back and laugh at all these little signs, but I doubt it. When you love someone, you never lose your sense of wonder over how they keep showing up in your life.
I’m sure my Intuition will have plenty more tricks up her sleeve for us.
***
The following day, when I arrived at work, my assistant told me that I had a phone call. She handed it to me and told me that it was from one of our clients. It seemed weird. Our client roster was filled with big companies, so the idea that one of them would be calling to check in was unusual.
When I picked up the phone and answered, I knew I was going to hate whatever she had to tell me. I already knew what she was going to say; it was impossible to forget that awful night.
“…and you probably remember that I was involved in an accident last year,” the woman on the other end said, almost casually. “Well, it happened while I was traveling home from one of your parties—so I guess you’re partially responsible. My name is Sarah.”
As she spoke, her voice broke a little bit. Even though I didn’t recognize her from the party, it sounded vaguely familiar, as if I might have met her once at a club or somewhere else along the way.
“Sarah!” I gasped. I’d completely forgotten about the young, attractive redhead who had been sitting at the bar that night. “What happened?”
“I crashed into another driver,” she whispered. “She was killed instantly—and then the police came and took me away.”
“Oh, no! What happened?”
“I think they thought it was my fault,” she murmured sadly. “There was a breathalyzer and blood tests and everything.”
“Did you take any drugs or alcohol?”
She shook her head and began crying softly. “My father passed away recently, so I think the cops were trying to blame me. They made me go through all kinds of psychological tests and interviews and all sorts of crazy stuff.”
The tears came harder now, and she let out a shuddering sigh. “And then my mother got sick and died too.”
Now that was just heartbreaking. The world was falling apart around Sarah, and none of it was her fault. I was torn between being sympathetic and wondering if the cops would have treated me differently if my father had passed away. But either way, it wasn’t fair to her. And it hurt me inside knowing that I’d lost contact with her after that horrible night.
“I’m sorry,” I told her gently. “I hope you find a way to get out of this mess.”
I hung up without leaving a message. It wasn’t like we had anything special planned for that evening. In fact, it was a rare weekday night when both of us were free to hang out together. But I knew I needed to be there for Sarah when she called, so I decided to leave work early.
It was only a few hours before she contacted me again. She was frantic, and she begged me to come to pick her up. She was scared to stay where she was, and she wanted to know that she was safe in the city.
So I dropped everything and headed out to meet her. Once again, she didn’t seem herself when she climbed into the passenger seat and turned to give me a sad smile. Her hair was a disaster, and her makeup looked like it hadn’t been washed in days.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded in surprise. “You should be in the hospital right now, not asking for rides from strange men!”
She shrugged and leaned closer to kiss my cheek. “They wouldn’t let me see my dog. It makes me upset, because he was injured too, and I need to hold his paw and whisper sweet nonsense to him until he recovers.”
A shiver ran down my spine; I could tell she was under some serious stress.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, trying to sound soothing. “Or maybe I can drive somewhere else. Or—”
“No,” she said firmly. “We don’t have time for that. I’ve found a place that looks perfect. It’s just a couple of miles away—right near the river, with lots of trees and grassy areas. There are even some ruins nearby, but the area is supposed to be pretty safe.”
That didn’t make me feel better. Ruins sounded dangerous to me—especially in the dead of night—but I didn’t argue with her reluctance. If she wanted to run out of the cops’ eyesight, then it would serve her purpose to lead me to a new location.
But then she surprised me yet again by pulling out a pair of handcuffs and throwing them onto the front seat between us.
“What are those for?” I gasped in horror. “Are you going to drag me off somewhere? You haven’t done anything wrong, so why would you need to handcuff yourself?”
She smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be fine. But I do like handcuffs, so I brought them along just in case.”
Her words gave me pause, although I tried not to show my concern. “In what kind of scenario does it make sense to bring a set of handcuffs to a date?”
She giggled at my shocked tone. “Just trust me when I say that we’ll be using these tonight.”
The End