Undercover Hero

A sliver of light shimmers on the horizon. The midnight blue sky gives way to the morning. Dawn is always my favorite time of day. It’s the best time to sit with a hot cup of coffee, my feet perched on the porch railing, and watch the sunrise, alone. It wasn’t simply the coffee or the sunrise and silence I savor–it is the absence of JD. JD never had a quiet thought. If I were lucky, he’d sleep past 10 AM. I am not lucky. At least not yet, anyway.

Today, it’s different. Who’d have thought 24 hours ago, I’d be standing here, my hands literally on a brand new car that was about to be mine. All I have to do is outlast the one remaining contestant. As long as I don’t think about the gnawing hunger in my stomach or that I can’t feel my toes, the odds are looking good. A strand of my curly hair falls over my face, tickling my nose. I blow at it, but it keeps falling back. It’s pointless. My hands must remain on the hood of the car at all times, or I’m disqualified.

I signed up for the contest three months ago to prove to JD I’m not a failure. Or maybe I am trying to prove to myself that I am not a worthless piece of trailer trash. JD’s words, not mine. If you hear them enough, you start to believe the words are true. I know I was made for this contest. I stick with things. Look how long I’ve stayed with JD–six years. Obviuosly I’m no quitter.

Yesterday at dawn, we started, twenty of us. Each of us placed our hands on the hood and trunk of the shiny, brand-new Nissan Versa. It’s white, not the color I’d choose, but it’s a free car, so I’m not going to complain. We get one 5-minute potty break every three hours. Our support team can provide us with water whenever we need it, but not food, as long as we don’t move our hands. I don’t have a support team. There’s no one. Aunt Carol died five years ago. She wouldn’t have been much help anyway, she could barely remember my name toward the end. And JD wouldn’t do anything unless it benefited him.

I didn’t need him to be my support team. The car dealership assigned me my own personal support person, DJ. DJ is the polar opposite of JD in every way, not just his name. He’s about my age and slightly taller than me. He’s got what I would call a normal to average build, with potential to develop a Dad-bod in about ten years. And the big bonus, he has a job where he’s not mopping up animal guts. And, he wears glasses.

The first few hours standing bent over with my hands on the car hood were a breeze. I’m no athlete, so trying to stay still and not move my hands should be easy, almost natural, like breathing. But as the sun rose higher in the sky, it began to get warm. A dry heat, Aunt Carol used to say, as if that mattered. My palms got sweaty, not a good thing, and my shirt stuck to my back.

The first person to go was Kandi, the eighteen-year-old. She claimed to be an influencer. Her support person flitted around, taking videos and snapping photos. As soon as the third hour hit, Kandi lifted her hands from the hood.

“This is for losers and wanna be’s,” she said, sounding a lot like JD as she sached away.

Right before our first break, an older man, trying to win the car for his much younger girlfriend, passed out. Throughout the day, the people dropped away. I shifted my feet and my hips. My shoulders and hips ached. To stay alert and focused, I imagined after winning the car how I’d climb in, wave goodbye to JD, and drive off into the sunset. I thought about where I’d go: San Diego, first of course, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and then ending up in Portland. I imagined driving along the coast on Highway 1, with the waves pounding against the rocky coastline and the small towns I could stop at. I’d stay for a few months in each place, picking up small jobs and working on my watercolors until I got all the way to Portland.

When night fell, the contestants began to drop like flies. The tiredness crept in. I knew if I fell asleep, it would be the kiss of death. I glanced over to DJ. He waved and held up the water. I shook my head. It was nice knowing he was there. I studied him for a moment. He seemed familiar in some way. But I couldn’t place it.

By 10 PM, it was just four of us: myself, Ed the bartender, Fran, who worked the deli counter at the Grocery Mart, and Reggie. Reggie didn’t talk, but he smelled of deep-fried fish and French fries, so I assumed he worked at Captain Crusty, the only fish place for miles around. That’s all I knew about Martin, because he wouldn’t talk.

At midnight, we had a bathroom break. I didn’t have to pee. The little bit of water I had went right out of my body in sweat. But DJ, my support person, insisted I use the bathroom break anyway, to stretch, and splash water on my face. He gave me the little boost I needed. In the bathroom, I stretched and gave myself a pep talk in the mirror. I shouldn’t have looked. The parts of my hair that had escaped my band were a ball of frizz. My nose and cheeks were red, while the rest of me looked like a vampire victim. “You got this, Cassidy,” I told reflection.

Back at the car, we each took our spaces back. I leaned my 5’ 11” frame over, my lower back on fire, my feet feeling like pins and needles. Ed was out of stories, and Fran had none, except that she thought my support person was cute and he looked familiar. Since Reggie didn’t talk, we got quiet. A dangerous thing when you’re trying to stay awake. I kept my mind on my plan, and my first stop on my road trip, San Diego. I’d head to the beach, no matter what time it was when I arrived. I run through the sand and dip my toes in the ocean for the first time in my life. I’d breathe in the salty air, and if the water wasn’t too cold, I might go in a little farther.

Before I knew it, my mind had taken me all the way to 2 AM, when Reggie fell asleep. I shook my head. He really needed the car. But then we all did, or we wouldn’t be here.

At 3 AM, I started seeing two of everything. I clamped my eyes shut and opened them, and that seemed to help. I glance over at DJ, and he gives me a thumbs-up and runs over with my water. The pain in my back seems to erase when he gets near. I take a sip, letting the cold drip down my throat. A small spot of relief.

“Cassidy, you’re gonna be okay,” he says, his voice soothing, giving me a boost of energy that I desperately needed.

After he leaves, I get angry. I deserved better than JD. Why had I settled for him in the first place? It wasn’t lost on me that he’s always been the way he is. But I was blinded by the straight teeth that seemed to glisten in the sun, the muscles that rippled under his shirt, his square jaw, and the fact that he had a job. Most guys in our small town barely worked. But JD worked at the butcher shop. I thought at the time that he was one of the butchers. It turned out he was the guy who mopped the floors and cleaned out the meat cases. That was the only cleaning JD ever did. Somehow, he is always able to get his way, and eventually, I gave up trying.

At 4 AM, I was still holding steady even though I was fading from the pain and tiredness. I couldn’t let go, not now, this car is my ticket out. I need a little cash before my road trip to Portland. I can get a job over in Phoenix. With the money from my job, I can take the trip. Once I get to my destination, I can finish art school.

Ed’s head bobs, and he snorts. The side of his face hits the hood of the car. I stand there, my hands still in place as he slides to the ground. His support team and DJ walk him over to the cooling tent. Fran and I lock eyes. It’s just me and her now.

I can outlast Fran. I need this car more than her. JD’s words creep into the back of my head, telling me I am a loser. At the exact second, when JD tells me in my head that I am nothing, a star shoots across the dark sky, leaving a fiery trail behind. I take a deep breath, and then another, letting the blood surge through my body. Even though every muscle in my body aches, my feet are on fire, and there is a weird buzzing sound in the back of my head, I have a feeling that I am going to drive away in the car. After all, it’s always darkest before dawn, and all I have to do is outlast Fran.

DJ comes over with a cup of ice water, and I sip from the straw.

“Thanks,” I say, water dripping from my mouth.

“No problem,” he says, and he wipes my chin with his thumb. There’s a tingling sensation where he touched me, like a cold burn.

“I’m sure you’d rather be doing other things,” I say.

“No, not really. This is exactly where I need to be,” he says, then leans in and whispers, “Between me and you, I’m pretty sure you got her beat.”

I watch him walk back to the cooling station and sit in his camp chair. He’d been here all day and night, too. He is a stranger to me, but he whispered the kindest thing that’s been told to me in years. And when he got near, my pain seemed to go away, and my head cleared, unlike JD, who, when he got near, turned me into a jumble of nerves.

I grin at Fran. Not a happy grin, but the grin that means I’m not letting go. I’m going to win this thing, no matter what it takes. She smiles back, her skin mottled, her hair hanging like a wet mop around her face.

And that’s the last thing I remember before waking up, on the ground, with stars dancing in my head. A ring of faces above me blurs and comes into focus. One of them waves something, like they are trying to cool me off.

“Give her room,” someone says.

Another person splashes water on my face. I cough, spit, and sit up.

“Did I win?” I ask.

“Fraid not,” Fran says down to me, dangling a set of keys.

DJ hands me a bottle of water.

“You passed out. You’re out of the contest,” he says, and it feels as if I’ve been punched in my stomach.

Deflated, I try to get up, but can’t. DJ lifts me, like it’s nothing, and helps me limp to one of the chairs in the cooling tent. I sip the water slowly, my stomach clenching with each drink. I sit in a daze while my vitals are checked.

“She’s good,” someone says. “Blood pressure is fine. Temp is good. Just wore out.”

I’m not good. I didn’t win. I’m a failure. Fran sits behind the wheel of the car while a news crew interviews her.

I’m given the okay to leave. But where do I go? I can’t go back to JD. That wasn’t my plan. I grab my purse. I’ve got enough bus fare to get me to Phoenix. And that’s it. I start to shuffle to the bus station, just two blocks away, when a voice behind me stops me.

“Need a ride?” DJ asks. “Sorry, that was mean.”

I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head. My entire body, which felt like jelly a moment ago, now feels normal. No, better than normal.

“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t mean. I really do need a ride,” I say with a weak smile.

“Where too?” DJ asks.

I bite my dry and cracked lower lip, and toe at the ground.

“San Diego,” I say, looking back up to him.

He cocks his head and smiles. “Well, that’s exactly where I am going.”

He takes my hand, and the cool electric feeling sizzles in my palm. He leads me around to the back of the car dealership, to a car parked in a small spot behind the dumpsters. Weird place to park.

When DJ pulls the car out, I see the silver symbol on the trunk and the hood ornament. And recognize it for what it is. But he’s not real, right? He’s only in movies and comic books. The door slides open. DJ has taken off his glasses, and his hair is mussed a little. He looks different. He can’t be…but it explains everything.

“This is joke, right?” I ask.

“I’m real,” he says as if he knew what I was thinking. “Hop in.”

I do. With the push of a button, the door closes, a seat belt straps over me, and we’re gone in a flash. JD, a forgotten blip in my life. This was much better than winning a car.