Chapter 1

Someone once said that, if you sit a chimpanzee at a computer keyboard, eventually he'd write War And Peace, or one of those big long novels. What that meant was that, given enough time, random events will result an outcome that, otherwise, could not be predicted.

Somebody else said that truth is stranger than fiction. I'll let you be the judge of that, after you read this narrative.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when I wrapped up the interviews with one of the last couples in my study. I stopped off at Wal-Mart to get a box of Little Debbie cupcakes, something I had a particular weakness for. I don't know if it was because they tasted good, or because of the company slogan: "Little Debbie Has A Treat For You". I saw that on the side of a truck once upon a time, along with a picture of "Little Debbie", whose panties were showing. I confess I had evil thoughts about the "treat" Little Debbie might have for me.

Anyway, when I got out of the car to go inside, I grabbed my clipboard, for some reason. It was probably habit, but I realized I was carrying it about halfway to the store and turned around to take it back to the car. My shoelace was untied and I stepped on it, tripping, so I bent over to tie it up. As I stood up, I saw motion out of the corner of my eye and looked to see the very startled face of a young woman staring through the windshield of her pickup truck, which was coming out of a parking slot frontways as it struck me. I remember turning at the last second, so that it hit my butt, instead of my hip, and then the world spun.

You know how they say you can see stars when you get a good whack on the head? They aren't lying, folks.

Things got fuzzy for a few seconds. I remember a falling sensation and some very hard pavement. Then there was a pair of women above my face, screaming for help and, just as I realized the two women were actually only ONE woman, things just faded to black.

I woke up in the hospital. It was very comfortable and I didn't want to open my eyes. But the beeping of machines and the low jumble of voices told me where I was. The smell too. I blinked my eyes open and turned my head, which was the wrong thing to do, because lightning suddenly struck and forced this odd sound out of my mouth.

"He's awake," came a calm female voice that I knew wasn't all that loud, but still sent more pains shooting through my head. I felt like I had the mother of all hangovers.

Then there was somebody shining lights in my eyes and holding them open. My arms were under blankets and I couldn't move them, so I told whoever it was in no uncertain terms that I was not happy with the situation. I'm told it came out something along the lines of: "Mfph sumbah lily phoombah grahb!"

"Yes," said the doctor, as if he understood every word. "You have a slight concussion. There's no real damage, though. We're going to keep you here overnight, just to keep an eye on you, but you'll be fine with a little rest. Do you feel up to having a visitor? Your girlfriend has been waiting to see you."

My mind toyed with the idea that I suddenly had a girlfriend. Then that face was hovering over me again. The last time I had seen it was through the windshield of the truck that I remembered bouncing up onto.

"Are you all RIGHT?" she asked quietly.

"Yrg ran oberme," I mumbled.

"Yes," said the doctor wisely. "You were hit by a car. Don't worry about that, though. Your girlfriend says she got the license number, so I'm sure the police will catch the culprit. You just lie still for a while. You need to remain calm. Would you like a sedative to help you sleep?"

I shook my head, primarily because I was trying to marshal my thoughts and voice to explain that this woman was NOT my girlfriend, and the reasons she knew the license number of the 'car' that had hit me was because it was HER license number. Shaking my head, though, was a bad idea, as it turned out, and led to amazing pain, which led to vocalizations that promptly brought a sting to my arm and the world faded away once more.

This time when I woke up I felt a lot better. The pain in my head was only a dull ache now, and I was able to roll my head to one side without pissing off Thor. The woman who had run me down was slumped in a chair, sleeping. There was a young man sitting beside her in another chair, reading a magazine. He looked up and his eyes widened. Thankfully he didn't squeal or scream. He just poked the woman, who woke with a start.

"He's awake," said the man.

The woman's eyes went wild for a second or two, and her head swiveled like she was looking for the lion that was about to pounce on her. She stood up and leaned over me again.

"I'm SO sorry," she said, her voice hushed. "I didn't see you and then all of a sudden you were just there, and I couldn't stop, and then you rolled up on my hood and I was so scared, and I know you hate me, but I didn't mean to hurt you, and OH PLEASE don't call the police."

She took a long shuddering breath, which wasn't surprising, seeing as how she had spoken for almost forty-five seconds straight.

"We'll pay for everything." she said meekly. Her eyes stared into mine and there was pleading in them.

The man's face appeared beside hers.

"You feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded.

"They kept you overnight for observation," he said. "We found your clipboard, and it had your name on it, so we knew who to ask for. They wouldn't have let us see you if Kathy hadn't pretended to be your girlfriend."

I liked this guy. He had told me more in thirty seconds than anybody else had told me the whole time I was there. He went on.

"They say you'll be fine. You're a little scraped up, but no real damage. Kathy's a little impulsive. I hope you'll be kind to us about this. It really was an accident."

Well, I wasn't in any position, just then, to assert my victim's rights, or whatever the bleeding hearts would call them, but then again I didn't feel all that badly. I tried talking again.

"Nothing broken?" I croaked.

He got a cup of water and held it to my lips. That helped.

A nurse came into the room.

"STOP THAT!" she scolded, taking the water from him. "You're not supposed to give fluids to someone with a concussion!"

I didn't like her. I was dying of thirst and my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I wasn't crazy about the girl who had run me over either. The guy I liked. He had done something nice for me, even if it broke the rules.

"When can I leave?" I asked.

The nurse got all official on me.

"The doctor will decide that. You just lie there and get some rest."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I said, "but haven't I been resting since yesterday?"

When they don't have a snappy official answer for you, they just turn around and leave. Nurses look good in their uniforms, and they're good for a fantasy or two, but in real life they're just mean, nasty women. Trust me on that.

OK, I know that's not fair, but that's how I felt at the time.

Anyway, for lack of anything better to do, I lay there and got to know my attacker and, as it turned out, her husband.

Randy introduced himself and Kathy, and then explained that, while he was wrestling a new 27" TV out of the store, Kathy ran ahead to drive the truck around to the door, since they had backed the vehicle into the parking slot and couldn't get to the trunk. That's when she and I met the first time. I knew I had been tying my shoe, and that bent over like that it was likely she hadn't seen me. In other words, it really WAS an accident. That and the fact that nothing much hurt except my head, made it seem less traumatic than it had before. I told them I wasn't mad, and that, as long as it didn't cost me an arm and a leg for the hospital visit, I wouldn't make any trouble for them.

Then I remembered the clipboard, which Randy said he'd found, with the sheaves of paper on it that, instead of leaving safe at home, I insisted on carrying around with me. Suddenly things were traumatic again.

"My papers?" I asked.

Randy leaned over the arm of the chair and came up with the clipboard, all the papers still on it, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"What IS all that, anyway?" asked Kathy. She was amazingly upbeat, now that she knew I wasn't going to come after them for everything they had, which probably wasn't much. They were young, and dressed pretty much like I did.

"Research project," I said shortly.

"Boy, that must be SOME research project," she said giddily. "I mean all those notes about people doing all those things and stuff. It reads like a pornographic book or something!"

"It's about marriage," I said. I was still a little miffed at her, even though I knew she couldn't have helped what had happened.

"We're married!" said Kathy brightly.

I looked at her face and saw lingering fear in her eyes. I realized she was babbling... trying to be sociable. I felt a little empathy for her. It must have been traumatic for her too. Too many people have a simple accident that screws up the rest of their life. Shit happens, but even so, it always smells bad.

"Relax," I said. "It was just an accident."

"I know," she said softly. "But I still feel bad."

To divert her attention I told them about my research project.

"We don't look much alike," said Kathy when I was done. "You'd think we would but..." She stopped so suddenly that it caught my attention. That, and the fact that Randy tensed up and shot her a look that was full of warning.

"I guess we just don't look much alike," she said, blushing a little. She darted her own look back at Randy.

"How long have you been married?" I asked.

Kathy took a breath, but Randy put his hand on her arm and she didn't say anything.

"It's been about five years," he said.

What seemed odd about that was his characterization of the time as "about" five years, and her lack of response that he didn't know to the day how long they'd been married. It wasn't so odd that he didn't know. What was odd was that she didn't react to that.