The Patricia Suit: Chapter One
I was driving home from work. I was tired, it was late and the roads were slick. It had been raining. There wasn't much traffic. Of course, in this town, pretty much everything is shut down by 10:30 on a Monday night. The stupid restaurant I work at is open until midnight, so of course, after 10:30 we get slammed because nowhere else is open.
It had been a long day at work. This girl, Patricia, had talked me into taking her night shift after I had already worked all morning. But I would have done anything for her. Anything. All she had to do was flash that perfect smile, give me a little wink... God, her baby blue eyes were so amazing. A swimmer, complete with that perfect, athletic body that looked absolutely flawless even in a tiny black bikini. She was beautiful. I could see her smiling at me, asking me with that soft Texas accent if I would mind taking her shift. She had to study for a test -- which, of course, meant that she had made plans with her boyfriend and had forgotten to take the night off. I smiled. Even in my cold car, I felt warm.
And then there was the thud. And that sickening feeling of knowing that you've hit something. Patricia was gone and suddenly there was only the reflection of my headlights on the wet road, the blur of the traffic lights and neon signs spinning around me. I slammed my car to a stop. And suddenly it was quiet. There was no one on the road, nobody else except for me. The rain was starting to pick up again. I could hear it on the roof of my car.
I was sure that I had hit something, I had felt it. It felt like the time I was driving into town with my dad and a deer leaped out in front of us. I cringed, remembering the deer laying on the side of the road. The whole front end of my dad's pickup was gone. My car. I had been hunched over the steering wheel, but now I forced myself to look up.
There was no damage. Nothing that I could see from the driver's seat, anyway. It was strange. The whole thing was starting to feel strange. Had I imagined it? I realized that my heart was beating fast. I was breathing deep and heavy, and I didn't know why. I unbuckled my seat-belt and cracked open the door, stepping cautiously out into the rain. I made my way around the front of the car, afraid for some reason about what I would see. From here, I could see that there actually was some damage. A small dent. I had hit something. And then I saw it.
A woman on the side of the road. Motionless, drenched from the rain. In one nauseating moment, I realized the horrible truth. I hadn't hit something, I had hit somebody.
“Oh. Shit,” I said aloud, my voice trembling, “Fuck.”
I was cold, I was afraid, I was guilty. I reached for my cell phone, but stopped myself. It would have been the right thing to do, but I couldn't do it. Instead, I found myself stepping towards the body, needing to examine it. I knelled down next to it, extending a shaking hand towards the face. She was wearing a State University hoodie. I realized that I was right across from the residence halls. Forcing my hands to steady themselves, I pulled the hood off of her head and gently turned her twisted neck so that I could see her face.
Patricia.
“Patricia,” I whispered, my stomach instantly tightening into deep knots.
Those blue eyes that I had been dreaming about only minutes ago now stared lifelessly outwards as I held her head in my hands. Her beautiful features were empty. I had never felt so guilty. I didn't stop myself from crying. Before long, I was shivering and drenched. I reached again for my cell phone. I had to turn myself in, I didn't care what the consequences were. I deserved it.
Wiping away tears (or was it the rain?), I prepared to dial the local number for the police. But, keeping my eye on Patricia, I noticed something strange was happening. At first, I thought she was moving. It looked like she was breathing. But, as I watched, it actually seemed like her chest was... caving in. In fact, her whole body seemed to be deflating. Like when you let the air out of a basketball... I frantically grabbed her shoulders, but they didn't feel like shoulders. They didn't feel like flesh and bone and muscle at all. Her body felt like... a heavy wetsuit or something. Empty and flexible. Her legs -- her arms -- her face! Everything had become flat and deflated and lifeless.
In a matter of minutes, there was nothing left of Patricia except for this shell. This Patricia shell that was still dressed in her rain-soaked clothes. I had been frozen, watching it happen. Nothing about it made sense, and yet, there I was, holding Patricia -- or what was left of her -- like a piece of clothing. Like a full body... suit. There was no way I could call the police now. How the hell was I going to explain... I couldn't even explain it to myself.
But suddenly I became afraid. Had anybody seen? I looked across the streets at the towering residence halls. Most of the lights were off. The stores on my side of the street had closed hours ago, there was no way anybody was still around. Not a car had passed by, or at least, I didn't think so. The coast was clear.
With as much dignity as I felt could give to the floppy shell, I lifted it up off of the street and folded it in my arms. It folded easily in half, and then in half again until it was compact and discreet enough to carry with me. Making sure I hadn't left anything behind, I left the scene of the crime feeling guilty -- but for some reason, very eager to get home.