Love Is Pink!

“You can get in now,” he finally called out.

With effort, I climbed up the steps and found myself in a truly comfy driver cab. A kitschy little Christmas tree shone on the dashboard and “Last Christmas” purred out of the speakers again. That silly song was following me everywhere.

Resolutely, I closed the door and looked at the driver. He smiled a friendly smile and started the truck. The motor roared, and a rumble came over me as he released the hand break. I was on the go again.

Nothing could stop me. Not the weather, not the incompetents who worked at the hotel, not even George Michael.

The heating in the truck worked surprisingly well. Warmth soon filled the air. And that wasn’t the only thing filling it! I leaned forward, sniffed, and turned to the driver.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I asked.

“Huh?” The man was completely perplexed.

“I want to respect your space,” I said, “but it doesn’t exactly smell like roses in here. To be honest, there’s a beastly stench. So if you have a need—”

“A need?” he said. Then a knowing smile brightened his face.

“Oh, you mean it stinks, and you think that I . . . ?”

“Exactly. It doesn’t bother me. Exit on the right, do whatever you need to do, and we can get back on the road.”

The truck driver smiled wider. “No, no.”

“No? You don’t have some business to take care of?”

“What you’re smelling, kiddo, is my cargo.”

“Your cargo? Your cargo needs to go to the bathroom?”

He laughed. “I transport cargo for a pig farm.”

“But pork doesn’t stink like that. Smell it. Don’t you smell it?”

“Young lady,” he said in a condescending tone, “I have live pigs on board. And they don’t use a toilet. They just shit when they have to.”

A paralyzing rage came over me.

“You mean to tell me that I’m sitting in a livestock truck?”

The driver looked unsure. “I thought it would be all the same to you. I thought you wanted to get to Geneva as soon as possible.”

“But not in a pig truck! You’ve tricked me and lied to me! Just like Valentin! All men think that they can do whatever they want with me. You’re nothing but a hypocritical bunch of losers and liars! I’m not letting myself be pushed around any more!”

My outburst must have distracted him, because he swerved into the middle lane. A honking van swooshed by from behind, and then pulled right in front of us, flashing its lights.

“What’s gotten into you?” the driver said. “I didn’t lie to you at all. I was just trying to be nice!”

“Nice? By luring me into this stinking stall? It’ll take a week for me to get rid of this smell! People will take me for a swine maid. Let me out of here immediately!”

The driver leaned over and reached his hand toward my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me, you stinky man!” I screeched. “I order you to pull over right this second!”

He swerved into the outer lane and slammed on the brakes. With a groan and a forceful kickback, the truck came to a stop. I opened the passenger door and half climbed, half jumped out of the cab.

From his seat, the driver stared at me with a mixture of fear and confusion.

“My suitcases!” I screamed at him.

With some effort, he reached behind the seats, brought my luggage forward, and pushed them out the open passenger-side door. They tumbled to the ground, one after the other.

“Think about it, young lady!” he said. “Do you really want to stay on the highway in this crappy weather? It’s another twelve kilometers to the next rest stop!”

“I don’t want to be in the same space with you one second longer, you swineherd!” I said. “And you wanted to touch me, too!”

“Ja, well, merry Christmas!” He threw the Prada purse at me before slamming the door.

The last I saw of his truck were its red rear lights as they slowly disappeared in the dense white of the falling snow.





5


I pulled open the heavy glass door and stepped inside the new rest stop. Actually, it looked exactly like the one I’d left a few hours ago. A few hours ago! The ice-cold temperature, the snow storm, my two leaden suitcases. I could have easily fallen on the way and frozen to death. But I’d made it.

I’d put my brand-new ski jacket on top of my coat and a ski hat on my head. My eyes were protected by ski goggles, and my hands were in thick gloves. That’s the only way I’d survived.

I dragged the roller suitcases behind me, swaying as I walked. Against the wall next to a heating unit was an open booth. I headed over to it and sat on the bench with a sigh. I stretched out my legs and inspected what remained of my Louboutin boots. The fact that the heels had broken off had proven incredibly practical, in retrospect. It was considerably easier to walk without them.