Anxious

Chapter 11: Out To Pasture

"Where are we going?" Leslie mumbled, sleepily, as she tried to sneak a peek at James. 

She still felt so drawn to him; an attraction, she couldn't define. He had been focused on the road, lost in his own world, but her words brought him out of it. He glanced over at her with eyes full of concern.

"Are you sure you are up for this, my dear? You seemed so positive last night..." He paused, then gently added, "But now, you are not the same you."

She sighed, turned her face at the window of James' dark grey Audi, and aimed her words to the forest that surrounded the highway. 

"I'm not the calmest in a moving vehicle. Do you know where I put my pills? My pockets are empty."

It was James' turn to sigh. "I am familiar with that prescription, Leslie. Pairing it with alcohol or taking too many result in a serious change of character and memory loss. At this moment, you cannot remember much more than fragments, that you only hope are genuine. If someone helps you to recall, the memories may come back. If you sit wondering in silence, you will never know. I think it is very important that you know what is going on right now. You must stop drinking, at least. Or, you could trust me enough to ask about things you do not recollect."

Leslie fidgeted in her seat; noticeably irritated. "I did. I asked where we were going, and all I got was a lectur--"

She was startled by an unusual sound that came from behind her. The back seat of the car was full of familiar household items. When she lifted a blanket--that she was sure used to sit folded on the back of her Sears couch--an orange ball of fluff shoved his face on the grate of a blue Pet Taxi.

"CINNY!! OH MY GOD!!"

Her faced flushed as she looked apologetically into James' knowing eyes. "Okay, okay! Maybe I remember a lot less than I care to let on."

She sat back in her seat, but kept one hand on her cat. James nodded, and let her continue. "Lemme try... and then you can fill in the blanks."

"All right," he agreed, but shook his head in disbelief.

"I must have promised to go with The Stalker... who isn't really a stalker.." She stopped.

James helped her along, "Yes, my dear. We both did. And he is actually---"

"MY FATHER!! This is demented, James! Where are my damn pills?! How the hell am I gunna get more??!!!" She felt her chest tighten.

James was calm and quick, "Easy now, darling. They are in the bag behind your seat, and Dan has the rest. You went to your dealer last night and bought them out. You are well stocked. I was uneasy about you carrying that much illegal benzodiazepine on you, so we split it up."

For the first time, Leslie noticed a black Corvette about a half mile in front of them. Fragments of the previous night floated into her mind: buying a cat carrier, food, and a ton of booze from the local grocery store with Dan; James helping her stuff white, garbage bags full of clothes, at her apartment; even going inside her dealer's house, and them giving her all the Xanax they had. Was there even a good-bye hug??

Leslie reached around to fetch the black handbag, which she also recognized as her own, that contained her much-needed medicine. She questioned again, "So, where are we going?" 

"Eden, Idaho. I have been told you have family there. This is some sort of farewell before we travel to your hometown. From there, I am not entirely positive. Dan is a baffling man; I have yet to figure him out. However, I heard him mention fleeing this country on several occasions."

"And I went along with all this?!"

"You were quite drunk last night, as well. So my question persists: are you sure this is what you want to do, love?"