Good Samaritan

You're on a dark road, no one ahead of you, no one behind you. You haven't seen another person in miles and the only voice, besides the one in your head, is Celine Dion on the only cassette tape that would work in the cassette player. Your call smells like old coffee and evergreen trees. It's a long way to the next pit stop. You could use a little company.

That's where I come in. Blue Honda stalled on the shoulder. Hood up, me in denim cut offs and a tank top peering into the engine with a flashlight as if I know what I'm doing. I heard you coming a mile away. There is no one else out here remember? Except the inevitable lonely middle aged man with a prude for a wife and a desire to do something he shouldn't. That's you.

Who can resist playing the hero? I know I cant help but be a damsel in distress. You don't need to know I can more than take care of myself.

"Thank you so much for stopping. I don't know what I would have done," I say once you have let me into the passenger side of your station wagon. Your wife is at home putting the kids to bed. She keeps checking her watch, wondering where you are but not really caring enough to call and ask.

"My pleasure," you say and smile at your luck. A beautiful lady stranded in the middle of nowhere, that sure doesn't happen every day. That's what they all think, believe me.

"What can I ever do to repay you?" I ask, running my hand along your thigh. To your credit, you don't always fold so easily. Sometimes I have to really turn on the charm. Complain about the heat and squirm around in my seat, fanning myself with my hand. You are all suckers for a sweaty woman.

The gas station in the closest town is never open at this time. In fact it hasn't been open in three years. But I never hesitate in my look of dismay as I realize I'm going to have to ask for just one more thing.

"Do you think we could get a motel room? I'll pay for it, I just really don't want to be alone." I give you the puppy dog eyes. The quivering lip. Sometimes I'm even able to muster up a tear or two. But those are only for the more hesitant. And you guys don't come around as often.

The best part is your puffed up chest and furrowed brow. You love the thought of taking care of a poor abandoned woman for the night. Women don't usually ask things of you anymore. Your wife lets you sleep on the couch while she does the dinner dishes and calls the cable company. You snore away while she kisses the kids goodnight and sends out the hydro bill. She has long since ceased needing you. You might as well disappear altogether. That's where I come in.

I like irony. I like pretending to be someone I'm not. I like the way you check under the bed and in the closet when I ask you to.

"I watch too many scary movies," I say and giggle, pulling the blanket up to my chin.

The ironic part is nothing in any of those dark corners is a match for me. I'm the one you should be afraid of. In my tank top and floral panties. I hope you don't mind, I don't like sleeping in my jeans.

The tension in the room is heavy. But I am effortless, making you wonder for a split second if I do this often. I smile at you, to ease your mind. A girl who smiles can't be anything but angelic. Your wife never smiles anymore, but you barely notice.

It's almost time. Sometimes you make your move, sometimes you resist, trying to be a gentleman. You didn't pick me up expecting anything. No, you just wanted to be a good samaritan and help a woman in need. Your cell phone buzzes in your pants, it's your wife, wondering if you will be home tonight or if she should activate the alarm. She decides she should. You will never be home. Maybe she has finally figured that out.

No man in a happy marriage ever stops to pick me up. He does not even notice me. It is tunnel vision until he is home with his wife. These guys do exist, I just don't concern myself with them. It's the ones I end up with in this cheap motel, running my foot up and down their leg, that I care about.

You are nervous. You know you should have gotten the room with two beds, but it was double the price. And I assured you I didn't mind.

One thing that never fails to surprise me is you are always convinced I am attracted to you. Some middle aged man with a bald spot and bifocals. Some over the hill guy with a comb over and khaki pants. Even the retiree who can barely hear me when I whisper in his hearing aid has one thing on his mind. Getting in those tiny shorts. If I'm going to wear an outfit like that, I must be inviting you to take advantage. No one is that naive. Funny, it seems that you are.

Your hands shake. Only because you haven't done this in so long. You sleep on the couch every night, ignoring your wife when she asks if you're coming to bed.

That used to be me you know. I used to turn the television off and put a blanket over your shoulders, assuring myself you would come to bed the next night. And if not, then the next night. You just needed your space.

"Daddy's had a long day," I told the kids when you would rather watch the news than help them with their math homework. I told them you would come around, they just had to give you a little space. And I truly believed that.

It isn't difficult to get you to betray a wife you ignore every day. You rationalize it, telling yourself that you aren't happy in your marriage anyway, why suffer any longer? But you can't see how lucky you are. A wife and two kids to come home to every night. A lot of people don't have that. A lot of people wish for that every night before they drift off to sleep.

What were you thinking about the night you destroyed everything I cared about? Were you dreaming about the women you picked up on the side of the road on your way home from work? Were you dreaming about how things could be if you weren't tied down with a wife and kids? Were you dreaming about life without me?

I only left the house for twenty minutes. We had run out of milk. The cliche still nags at me today. When I look at these men, in their business suits, in their faded jeans, as they try to inconspicuously remove their wedding rings. As if that will make a difference.

You only needed to watch the kids for twenty minutes while I ran to the store. I told you to pick up milk on your way home from work, but you were late for another reason. What did you pick up instead?

I take your hand and guide it over my stomach. You are right, you shouldn't be doing this. I'm the one coming onto you. You are right, I'm the whore. I made you do it. Go on, tell your wife I made you do it.

The house lit up the sky, black smoke billowing out of every window. There were crowds behind the police barricades staring at the bonfire that used to be our house. I left the car and would have run straight into the inferno if a firefighter hadn't grabbed me and held me back until I stopped screaming.

When it's over, you check your cell phone. One missed call. Guilt has suddenly crept up. You look at me.

"You aren't going to tell anyone about this are you? I'm married," you say. But it is too late. You can't expect to make a deal after the fact. Where is the leverage? I have the power now.

The police officer wanted to know who else was in the house. I said, my husband, my son and my daughter. The look on his face told me I would never see them again. I heard neighbors whispering.

"That poor woman."

"At least she wasn't around to hear their terrible screaming."

"Thank God for small miracles."

Yes. Thank God.

I smile at you. So innocent. Never take responsibility for anything. Ever. I watch as you slip your ring back on your finger. What a cop out. It doesn't change a thing. You still took one look at me and forgot about your wife and kids, home alone.

The police told me a week later the fire was started by a cigarette that was left unattended. The fire spread so quickly through the old furniture and wooden moulding that none of them had a chance. The kids were found upstairs, huddled in my closet. Smoke inhalation had gotten to them before the fire.

Thank God for small miracles.

You on the other hand, you, you had passed out on the couch with the cigarette on your lap. Too much to drink, the police officer said. You didn't even wake up before the fire engulfed you. At least that's what they told me. To make me feel better, I think. I would rather believe you suffered through every second.

Well, I wasn't going to let this happen to anyone else. I grab my purse and stand up, looking you in the eye.

"Of course I won't tell anyone." I assure you.

The relief on your face is laughable. I smile when terror takes over at the sight of the gun in my hands. You beg. You always beg. Too little too late, I'm afraid. Should have thought of this before you disregarded your family. Should have thought of this before you took advantage of a stranded girl on the highway. But I made you do it. Keep telling yourself that.

On to the next town. On to the next low life. Even if I do get caught, I have nothing to lose. Unlike you. Your family is better off without you. Your kids will never know you were anything but a superhero. I have turned you into a legend.

You will be so much more in death than you ever would have been in life. I look behind me once as I leave. It's nothing extraordinary. It happens all the time. I will never be the victim again. One by one, I will destroy every one of you. Not a single regret. Not a suggestion of guilt. This is justified.

Don't tell me I'm crazy. Take a look around, you are the one throwing away your life. I didn't force you to pick me up. I only facilitated your death, you pulled the trigger.

With nothing left to lose, I have become so much more than I ever was relying on you. I'm making a difference. Setting those women free. You fell for it, and what can I say other than, you could have had it so much better, you just never wanted it.