“I mind. I think you need medical attention. Listen. Right after I leave, you call the hospital to come get you.” He approached me. “I know about these things. You can’t pay, but they’ll treat you. If you’re with me, they’ll stick me with the bills and I’ve got a wife . . .” His hand went around my wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” I said flatly, and his hand jerked back. I sat on the edge of the bed and began to dress. “I don’t need a hospital; I need to get to New Mexico. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re trouble all the way around.” He took his briefcase and little traveling bag from the dresser and opened the door.

I was powerless to stop him. I sat on the edge of the bed, not even knowing if he’d paid the motel bill, and watched him go through the door—the man who’d saved my life. He set his bags on the sidewalk outside and looked in at me as he reached to close the door. My jeans were on but unzipped, one boot was on, my shirt was unbuttoned, my hair was wet. My body ached and I was bone weary.

In that split moment, I saw myself as he must see me, alone, forlorn, and abandoned, and instinctively I knew how to play my hand.

“Please?”

His pointed face softened and his shoulders sagged. He turned to face the parking lot, hands on hips, and I knew I had him. He turned back.

“All right. Two conditions.”

I finished dressing.

“One, you’re out of my car before morning, and two, if you get sick, I’m dumping you on the side of the road.”

He came in and picked up my pack, carried all three bags to the car. I followed, each step painful from my toes to my hip joints. The darkness outside was fresh and new; it welcomed me. I was on my way to Sarah’s. I would be there, if not tonight, then the next.

Riding in his car was harder than I thought. His continual chatter rasped my nerves, particularly be­cause every minute or two he asked some kind of question that required some answer, and therefore effort was expended in listening and understanding. This was very hard with most of my attention on the overwhelming, frightening ache in my legs.

I tried every imaginable position, but nothing helped. It didn’t matter if I was cross-­legged, sitting on my heels, or lying on the backseat with my feet elevated. The ache was the same. I could not get comfortable, and the pain made me restless. I could not sit still.