heading out to meet him when she dropped the bag and vanished.
He grabbed his chest, feeling a nightmarish tightness. ‘God, Didi, Didi,’ he whispered, starting to pant and losing focus in his eyes. What’s happened?
When Didi regained consciousness, she wasn’t lying in the man’s lap, and her face wasn’t squeezed between his abdomen and the steering wheel. She was hunched over on the seat nearly falling onto his shoulder. She realized he must have pulled her up. Her head was throbbing as if her hair were any minute going to be disconnected from her scalp. Squinting, she looked for her bag. He had thrown it down on the passenger floor.
She sat up straight and looked around, rubbing her belly. They were now in the right lane, going sixty-five. No more concerned drivers peering at her through the windows of their cars. Just Texas fields, a few shrubs, some houses off in the distance, a hazy blue post-zenith sky.
Didi moved as far as she could away from him and pressed her body against the passenger door. She wished she could become a liquid and pour herself into the door and disappear. There was obtrusive and persistent ringing in the ear where he had hit her. The radio was playing country music, and the man, cheerful and unperturbed, continued to hum to it.
Didi had to go to the bathroom. The baby’s head was pressing too hard on her shrunken bladder. She had hoped she could just sweat out all the liquid in her body.
‘I feel that we got off on the wrong foot here,’ she heard the man say. She could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. She wanted to say something nasty back, but her teeth felt too large for her mouth and her tongue too unhappy. So she said nothing and waited for him to speak again. Why did her tongue feel so swollen? She rolled it around her mouth. It hurt. Maybe I bit it when he struck me. Parting her lips, she let some air in. Maybe I’m just thirsty.
‘Don’t you think so, too?’ the man said to her.
He’d asked her a question. What was she supposed to say to that? The Belly was locked in a Braxton Hicks. She held on to it for a few seconds and then said, shrugging lightly, hunched over against the door, ‘I guess so.’
‘No, no, we definitely did,’ said the man. ‘And it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that. We didn’t have time to be properly introduced, and then I was so busy getting us out of Dallas that time just flew. You never even told me your name.’
She opened her mouth to speak. His voice was gentle now, soothing, as if listening to soft country music had relaxed him and made him calm. Had it made him calm enough to stop the car and let her out here in the middle of the highway?
‘When we were in the mall, I was trying to figure out what your name was,’ he said. ‘Did you try to guess what my name was?’
What was he talking about? She needed a drink. A sip or two of water. She was going to lick her wet-with-sweat hand again and then thought better of it.
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, her mouth barely moving. She said it very quietly. ‘Is it John?’
‘No, no.’ He laughed. ‘When I sat and waited for you to be done at Dillard’s, and you did take a long time, you know, I almost left. But anyway, when I sat and looked at your back and hair and legs, I tried to figure out what your name was. Let’s see…Ellen? Sonia? Maybe Jackie?’
He waited for her to answer him.
No, she said, or thought she said.
He nodded. ‘You don’t look like a Melanie, I decided. My wife is a Melanie, and you look nothing like my wife.’
Didi stared at her yellow sundress. She had felt so happy when she put it on this morning.
‘Monica?’ he continued. ‘No, that’s a tall name, and you aren’t tall. Annette? No. That’s a short name, and you aren’t short.’ He glanced at her, a smile widening his lips. ‘You are just right.’
She looked away.
‘You aren’t blond like a Jennifer, or made up like a Jessica. You don’t look smart like a Melissa, or lazy like a Megan. Am I right so far?’
‘You’re right so far,’ Didi said faintly.
He tapped on the steering wheel. ‘I’m having fun here. Right. This is tons better than working at some pathetic little job for a few bucks.’
I knew it. He wants money, thought Didi.
He seemed to be enjoying himself. He was smiling and looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The tension was gone, though he still kept both hands conscientiously on the wheel. ‘Hey, want to play a little game? Guess mine and then I’ll guess yours.’ He almost giggled with delight.
‘Listen,’ Didi said. ‘I’d love to play, but do you think we can get a drink somewhere first?’ She thought that stopping would be preferable to being stuck in the car with him. There would be people, she might be able to get away, call for help, anything but sit in the car and sweat.
The man’s smile dimmed a little. ‘What? And have you perform one of your little antics again? You’re dangerous enough in a moving car. No, I’m going to take you to a safe place. Now guess my name.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what.’ The smile returned. ‘If you guess my name in three tries, I’ll stop and get you a drink. Don’t want to dehydrate a pregnant woman, do I?’ His hand reached out to – oh my God, what was he doing? Was he thinking of touching the Belly? Didi was sitting too far away or he reconsidered, because he put his hand back on the wheel. ‘No, no, we certainly don’t. But you have to play a part in quenching your own thirst. Is that fair?’
Is that fair? she thought. Up to one o’clock, the unfairest part of today had been the doctor telling Didi the baby might be too big and they might need to induce labor a little early to make sure there were no complications during delivery. And she remembered thinking to herself, God, it’s unfair, to be penalized for having a big baby.
‘Let’s play,’ said Didi.
Rich felt like bashing his head against the nearest car. What’s happened to my wife? he thought, and then screamed. Screamed right in the middle of the Dillard’s parking lot.
‘Didi!’ he shouted, and her name echoed amid the Toyotas and the Hondas and the Fords. ‘DIDI!’
A couple walking by turned to look at him and then lowered their heads and sped up. Rich ran after them.
‘Have you seen my wife?’ he said fervently. ‘My wife, five-seven, brown hair, brown eyes, very pregnant?’
They stared as if everything was not all right with him.
‘Please,’ he said, in a lower, pleading voice. ‘My wife. Very pregnant. Have you seen her?’
The woman took her husband’s arm. ‘No, sorry,’ she said and tried to push past Rich. The man followed,
