“No, no. It’s fine,” I said shoving my laptop into her hands.
“Are you sure? I can go to the library,” answered my friend.
“And we know how dependable those computers can be,” I replied, recalling the last time she’d done so and lost half of the research paper she had been working on leading to her being docked a grade for lateness.
“Go.” I insisted.
She went. That was two days ago. Her paper was due on Monday and I assumed she would get it back to me by then. Yes, I know what they say about assuming things, but she’s my friend.
Why doesn’t she have her own laptop? I don’t know. I figure being poor can do that to you. Because she is; not the kind of poor that qualifies for free stuff, but the kind of poor that is enough to make life inconvenient and slightly uncomfortable.
I was up early Saturday morning, plan in my head and truck keys in my hand. It was north – actually northeast – and I knew that if I traveled ahead and then left, I would reach the place within an hour. Maybe two. Maybe three. (Okay, so estimations have never been my forte, and let’s admit some vehicles are more dependable than others which, of course, makes a difference in times of arrival.) But of the direction and distance? I was sure of it.
So certain was I that I left without my watch, the band being uncomfortable, and a compass, because who uses a compass besides the military and orienteering buffs? (Oh yes. I had one. I displayed it on a small round end table along with an Adelaide Hurricane lamp and an old copy of A Message to Garcia. It was a gift I valued because of the giver, but never used.)
You’re thinking I should just GPS it on my phone. Of course you are. I agree, but I had dropped my phone in the community pool the day before while I was trying to find the link for my suit that a new acquaintance admired and asked for, and it was currently spending the day in a package of uncooked rice. (I have to admit my swimming suit is amazing.) No, I couldn’t map quest it on my laptop, which, as you’ll recall was in the possession of my friend.
Some people collect old pickups. Let’s just say they wouldn’t want mine. I started it and set out.
By hour two I was beginning to feel slightly unsettled. Feeling undone would come later.
to be continued . . .
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