I was a bit down that day. It was only a couple of days
since my girlfriend dumped me, and although she'd been
trying to be as delicate and tactful as possible, it still
hurt like hell. I wasn't ready. And I hated being left
alone. I'm that kind of guy that's fit for a relationship.
So I decided to comfort myself with a six-pack. Regular
doctor orders.
I headed for the small kiosk on the other side of the
street, its lights glittering through the raindrops. The
streetlamps were on, their lights reflected from the
puddles, but the street was generally dark. Since it was
impossible to make a u-turn, I parked my car, got out and
started to cross over. I must have been distracted by the
late hour, and the still street.
Next thing I knew, there was a big bang, and some seconds,
or years, or hours later, I found myself lying on my back,
in the middle of the road, in a state of shock, gazing at
the black sky spinning solemnly above me.
I don't think I made any sound. I don't know how long it
took until I heard footsteps, and a stranger's face entered
my sight, blocking that merry-go-round of stars.
She was crouching over me, looking shocked. It seemed, as I
was gazing back at her calmly, that she was waiting for me
to say something. When I didn't, she finally said:
"Are you all right?"
"Well... er, I really don't know..."
She kept on staring at me, making a quick review of my body,
lying there. Presumably trying to figure out if something
was wrong, or broken.
"You don't seem to have been hurt," she said finally. "Do
you feel any pain?"
"Nope," I said.
"Could you get up?"
"I don't think so," I said frankly.
"Would you like me to help you?"
"Well, it may not be so easy..."
She looked puzzled.
"What do you mean?" she said finally. "Well, you can't stay
here forever, can you? Let me help you." She reached out her
hand.
This was indeed an awkward situation, and I started to feel
embarrassed. She was still waiting for an answer, and I
didn't know what to say.
"Well er... you see," I finally started to talk "I must have
lost my chariot... but it should be here somewhere..."
"Your what?" I guess that was the moment she decided I was
drunk, but then she followed my gaze and the expression on
her face changed immediately.
"Oh, fuck," she said calmly. Because there, approximately
two or three yards ahead, was my wheelchair, lying, wet,
upside down. It looked quite crooked, and one wheel was
still spinning quietly in the air. The car that hit me must
have flanged it to the trench.
She looked back at me. She was utterly speechless. I felt a
little sorry for her, but I couldn't find anything nice to
say. So I merely shrugged and smiled pleasantly at her. She
didn't seem to be amused at that.
"Well, anyway, you can't stay here," she said at last. Her
voice was a bit shaky now, but she tried to look firm and
decisive. I kind of liked that, and decided to cooperate.
"Maybe if you could just bring it over here..." I said.
She looked at the wreck again and seemed to be deterred by
the idea of touching it. "I think it's broken. Good for
nothing now," she said at last, and seemed relieved by the
idea.
"So," I looked back at her, now more amused than
embarrassed. "There isn't any other way then."
She was surveying me again, as trying to decide which is the
best way for her to grab me. "I will try to help you as much
as I can." I promised. What the hell. It took me years of
practice on how to survive a huge range of stupid and
ridiculous situations derived by my circumstances.
She kneeled beside me, grabbed me under my arms, and sort of
half pulled  half dragged me, until we have finally landed
on the sidewalk a few minutes later, firmly embracing each
other. At that stage, evidently even she started to think it
was funny.
"Ooof," I said, "Thanks..."
By then, I was already soaked with water, my trousers almost
shredded to pieces. She helped me to be seated, and sat
beside me. I could barely see her face, with the streetlamp
light coming right behind her. She was surveying me
seriously again, and I could hear her breathing heavily.
"Now what?" I said.
"Where's the nearest hospital?" she asked. "We should get
you there." She had a foreign accent. I realized that now.
"I feel all right," I said
"Yeah, sure you do." She kept surveying me. Especially my
legs. "But it doesn't mean anything, does it?"
She was right, of course. So I looked down at my legs. They
didn't look crooked, and there weren't any bloodstains on my
trousers. My head ached, which was expected. I also had a
bruise on my forehead and my left elbow hurt a bit. It was
scratched, but didn't bleed. However, there still could be
an internal hemorrhage in either one or both my legs, which
would make me bleed to death, without even noticing.
"Can you drive?" I asked her.
"Yeah," she said. "Where's the car?"
I was giving it a second thought.
"The car's right here. But never mind, I'll drive."
"Sure," she said, "as you wish. But I'm coming with you
anyway."
I didn't say anything, for fear that she would change her
mind.
Luckily, the car keys were still in my pocket. I took them
out and pressed the remote control button. "You can get in,"
I said, "the door's open."
"I think it would be better if I drive," she said.
"You can't drive my ship."
"Yeah, I know," she said. "You feel fine. But we can never
be too cautious, can we? So, I still think it's better that
you hand me the keys..."
Well, she was right again, but the idea of letting somebody
else drive my sweetheart, seemed to me impossible to accept.
For a moment we looked at each other like a dog and a cat.
But then, I simply shrugged, and handed the car keys over. I
then climbed laboriously in, and finally assumed the
position in the passenger seat. It was quite a change for
me, I must say.
Then I had to ask her to bring in the chair. She picked it
up as if it was a dead cat and tossed it in the trunk. It
was still in one piece but not at all fit for use.
She climbed in too, and immediately started to adjust the
seat and the mirrors, ruining in a few seconds all the
fine-tuning it took me ages to achieve. It took her some
more time to maneuver the car out of the parking place, but
then quickly she gained control over the heavy vehicle. She
looked very pleased by her success.
"So, now you can steer a handicapper's car," I remarked
sarcastically. She didn't seem to bother. "Every day you
learn something new," she commented matter-of-factly. "Now,
where should I go?"
She looked at me, waiting. I noticed her foreign accent
again.
"It's only a few blocks away," I said. "You'd better turn to
the right at the next lights. Then straight ahead. You will
notice a sign right after."
She did. Now I could observe her better. She looked tall and
slim, but not skinny, nice breasts. Her hands were a bit
manly, long but strong, with big palms and long and bony,
but delicate fingers, now twitched firmly around the
steering wheel. She had short blonde hair, very full and
shaggy. My eyes roamed to her face, and fixed there. I could
distinguish by the dim light that it was long and narrow.
Though it didn't look beautiful, it was quite peculiar. She
had a straight and sharp nose and a strong and sharp chin, a
long neck, bent a little bit forward, as she concentrated on
the road, and beautiful full and well shaped lips, now
slightly open . She wore a black T-shirt with a flat
décolleté, black cigar-shaped trousers, a
small handbag, she had tossed in the rear seat, and a pair
of sneakers. Another puzzle was that accent.
"You are not English, are you?" I said finally.
"Nope," she said, looking straight ahead.
"American?" I tried again, but I knew this was not it.
"Certainly not!"
"French?" I  felt this was my last shot.
"No," she said.
"What are you then?" I asked.
"Very nervous!"
I wasn't ready for that. Out of surprise, I started to laugh
real hard now. She grinned nervously. "Sorry," she said
finally, "but this whole situation is very weird. And
everything goes real fast...I mean, here I am, riding this
Titanic, and I don't even know you, or- what if I don't want
to know you... that is -  I mean..."she paused "You are
really good looking and all, it has nothing to do  with...
er... well...fuck. I am sorry. Let's start it all over
again, shall we? What was the question?"
She was pronouncing "fuck" like the French, or Dutch. And
she was using this word like a kid, having a new toy for his
birthday. I was quite amused. But nevertheless she made me
feel ashamed, and I regretted pushing it too far.
"Never mind. It's all right," I said, "and I am sorry. I
know what you mean. This is a weird situation. And I'm sorry
to get you involved in it. I didn't even bother to ask you
if you had to change your plans because of me, or at-least
thank you for probably saving my life -..."
"Oh no, don't do that." She suddenly frowned. "It's all
right. Let's not get too emotional, shall we?" She paused,
looking terrified by her own strong reaction, I was sure she
also blushed severely.
"What do you mean?" I said. I felt like I was slapped.
"I mean, it's nothing. Really. I wasn't up to anything. I
just saw you there and you seemed to be in trouble. Anyone
would do that, don't you think?"
She paused, and then added more calmly, "I was over
reacting, wasn't I?" Now she was smiling warily at me.
"Oh no, that's nothing," I said, and smiled back at her.
"And I am sorry for being so intrusive."
We were both silent for a while.
"Anyway, I am John. John Carter," I said at last.
Still looking straight ahead, she frowned. Then the penny
must have dropped. "John Carter?" she said, "like that guy
in ER?"
"That's the one!" I grinned.
She grinned too. "So you'll fit in there, tonight, won't
you? They will probably be very happy to see you," she said.

"Oh yes." I said cheerfully, "And I am an old friend too."
She turned her face to me again.
"I am Mickey," she said finally, head bent, smiling.
"Mickey, like the mouse?"
"That's the one!" she cheered.
"Then here's looking at you, Mickey!" I raised an imaginary
toast at her. She laughed. It sounded like a clear and
melodic chime
I couldn't find anything else to say. So for some time,
there was silence. Eventually we got to the hospital, and
were driving towards the ER.
"How are you doing?" She was looking at me again, with that
serious gaze.
"Very well, thank you," I said. Indeed, I felt much better.
I wasn't dizzy or weak. I felt lively, and I knew nothing
was wrong with me. However, one can never be too cautious,
right? So she parked right in front of the ER, and got out,
getting right back with a paramedic, rolling a wheelchair. I
was dragged out again, loaded on the trolley, and rolled
right inside. There, I was given all those routine checks,
my soaked clothes were peeled off, I was washed, dressed in
the already familiar hospital pyjamas, and deployed to the
ward for an overnight supervision. I only had time to wave
at Mickey and shout, "Thanks again!" very quickly, and I was
gone.
Later, in the ward, a big bandage over my forehead, after
having a late supper in my bed, courtesy of a nurse I'd
trapped by my charms, turning on the TV, and making my self
at home, a knock came on the door. "Come in," I called. I
was sure it would be one of the night-shift nurses, looking
for some entertainment. The door opened, and Mickey was at
the doorway. For some reason, my heart started beating real
fast.
"Hello," she said.
"You still here? That's a great surprise!" I said, I was
really happy to see her again. Standing at the doorway like
that, she looked quite tall, with dark  eyes and long
eyelashes. She had a tendency to bend her head a bit
downwards while speaking, as if she was uncomfortable with
her height. To that she often added a timid smile that
revealed a set of large, white, and matching teeth. Every
time she talked, two blush circles blossomed on her cheeks.
She looked clumsy in a charming way, and reminded me of
somebody, but I couldn't remember who.
She came in. "I just wanted to check on you before I go,"
she said. "So how did it go?"
"Oh, it was nothing. It seems I've been lucky this time.
Everything looks fine, but they made me stay overnight just
to be sure."
"Well that's good," she said. "So, I'd better be going
now."
"Yeah...er...wait!" I said. "Listen, thanks! You are a real
angel."
She frowned. "Oh please don't start that again," she said.
"No, no!" I jumped immediately.  "Please, I am sorry, I
didn't mean to..." I felt like a little puppy. But she
looked amused now, and as lovely as before.
She was already at the door again, on her way out.
"Please, wait," I said. "I know you'll probably never want
to see me again. However, It is my duty to myself at least
to try, and humbly ask you to accept this little note with
my phone number on it. If I would have thought my chances
were better, I would probably ask for your phone number, to
be able, once I am out of here, to buy you a very nice
dinner, in a very fancy restaurant, because, despite the
scary faces you give me, I feel I owe you one. And besides,
you should know that, whenever I am not lying in a puddle,
or wearing these fancy pyjamas, I am a real catch. Anybody
will tell you that." I almost ran out of air, so I took a
deep breath. She was still at the door, looking petrified.
"So, anyway," I went on, "as I said, you don't make me feel
that lucky now, but I still have enough guts, at least to
ask you to take this." I quickly scribbled my full name,
address and three phone numbers on a piece of paper, and
handed it over to her. "Here," I said, "this is mine, at
home. But I am almost never there. This is at the office.
Goes directly to my bureau. You should say it's an urgent
family matter - that's the only way to pass the secretary
barrier, and this is my mobile. I travel a lot, you see, but
you can leave me a message there, anytime."
For a moment, she was still standing there, staring at me,
frozen. Than she graciously shook her head, and smiled. She
walked towards me, and took my reached-out hand in her own.
She then sat on my bed. Her hand was dry and warm.
"You talk too much, you know that?" she said. "But you're
nice, though." She paused for a minute, thinking what to add
to this. "And I think you must be a very special guy," she
said finally, and looked rather sad. It was my turn to blush
now. She made me feel like the head boy.
"I will take your note," she added gracefully after another
pause, and then grinned. "And who knows, I might even not
lose it". She paused once more for a second, and then, bent
over and kissed my forehead. "Good night," she said and got
to her feet.
"Wait..." I said, "just one more question."
"Yes?" she said, although she could have simply said: "You
are granted with one more wish..."
"Where are you from?" I was an idiot, but I couldn't resist
it. She gave me that face again, but I wasn't scared now, so
she softened up.
"I am British," she finally said in a very soft voice, "But
I was raised in France." She was still looking at me with
that special look. "You take care, will you?"
And then she left.
I have never seen her again, but sometimes, I still hope,
she hasn't lost that piece of paper...
I just remember now who she reminded me of.
Prince William.