That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about this woman, and I couldn’t figure out why. Moreover, I couldn’t explain the urge I was feeling to help her out. What did I care if she needed a new car? That’s life, right? No one bought me a new car, and I was the least to blame in this whole mess. She’d caused most of it, and yet here I was thinking about providing her with another vehicle with which to wreak havoc on the California freeways.

I knew I was overreacting, but it was an unheard-of thing to do, buying a car for a stranger. I didn’t want to draw any more media attention to the whole thing either, and if it got out that I was doing it, they’d want to know why, and then she’d get dragged into it too, and I didn’t want to put her or myself through that. Although I could do it anonymously …

I went back and forth like this for hours before finally falling asleep. When I awoke I felt awful, but I also felt resigned to the fact that I simply had to help her out. There was no explaining it, no rationalizing it, but I knew that if I didn’t I was going to be miserable, and I was done with feeling miserable.

I arrived at the set that morning as ready to work as I could be on three hours of sleep. Ella, my assistant on the set, met me with coffee. “You look fresh this morning,” she commented sarcastically. “Insomnia?”

“Sorta. Thinking about buying a car.”

“Another one? Didn’t you just get one?”

“No. I mean, yes, it is new, but I’m not buying one for me. It’s for a friend who can’t afford it.”

“Aw, that’s so decent of you.”

I smirked. “You make it sound like I’m not often decent.”

She laughed. “No, that wasn’t what I was implying, believe me. But listen, I’ve been thinking about selling mine, so if you’re interested, let me know.”

I perked up. “Is it in okay shape? Why are you selling?”

She shrugged. “I’ve had it awhile, and I’m bored with it. I get like that with cars; I need change. I usually trade them in, but I’ll sell it to you instead, if you want it: 1999 Honda Civic, black, manual. Great shape, no problems, no major work.”

I thought about it for a minute. Hondas were reliable, and I knew I could trust Ella to be honest with me about its condition. And they weren’t fancy or sporty or anything else that might jack up the insurance. “How much you asking?”

“Haven’t thought about it. Make me an offer.”

“I wouldn’t know what would be fair. Let me do some research, okay?”

“Sure thing.”