Meeting Karla Dixon

[Insert Pictures of Karla Dixon]

"Sorry, but I don't think I'll be going with you guys this time Kiki, I'll give you a call later."

"Are you sure? Why?"

"Sorry, but I need a bed if I want to stay alive, I'm sick right now, seriously sick."

Karla was a fantastic drinker, but she felt that she had gone too far in the last few days of her last holiday, when she could be completely carefree before truly considering her future.

The strange feeling that drove her to act like this returned, but in a different form: it was telling her not to go with her friend - not because she didn't want to visit California, but because she probably wasn't supposed to go with her friend; otherwise, something bad would happen, or she would miss out on something important in her life.

"..." 

Her friend, Kiyana, remained silent for a while, looking at her serious and determined expression, before shrugging and saying, "All right, give me a call when you feel better, and try to hitch a ride if you can later,"

Karla nodded as her friend went, but she had no intention of doing as she asked or following along.

Her friend eventually left her room when the sound of a car horn echoed around the motel. She didn't urge or try to persuade any further because she was in a hurry to leave for the concert in a few days and didn't want to be left here. They all came from Missouri, but not this city.

"Fuck them noisy party bitches… I can finally get some sleep," Karla heaved a sigh of relief as she was left alone in her motel room. She fell asleep right away, making sure that the headache did not prevent her from obtaining some rest.

She felt better when she woke up later that day.

(End of Karla Dixon POV)

———

That morning on the phone, I spoke with Claire for an hour before letting her go back to sleep in aggravation and rage; I needed to hear her voice to ensure it was genuine. I was too excited to talk to her.

My preparations to depart the motel did not go as planned; instead, I stayed longer and trained in the rear until the sun went down. This time, I was definitely going to depart tomorrow morning.

I took a shower, dressed, and left my room. There were other places to eat besides this filthy and uninteresting dinner, but I didn't have much money to spend, and I didn't want to walk and get delayed by an accident somewhere, then revise my travel plans with something new.

Arriving in the diner room, I didn't notice many people eating here, so I took a seat at the counter and made my order for a simple sandwich and some fries with a cold and refreshing drink, I wasn't someone much for coffee after the afternoon in general unless peer pressured or to appear cool.

I hadn't even received my order or begun to eat when the restaurant door pushed open and a gorgeous and lean woman with blue eyes stepped in, looking pale and worn, yawning as if she hadn't had much sleep or was intoxicated. I was thinking about the latter.

Her pretty eyes surveyed the room as she walked, her hands tucked inside the pocket of her jacket when her sight met mine. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and her face appeared to pause for a second.

She smiled at me and moved over to me. I expected her to come up to me and chat me up with some lines, but she shocked me by sitting two seats next to me, but not too near.

For a brief moment, I was disappointed and laughed at myself for even considering the ridiculous notion that such a lovely young woman with the style of a fit magazine model and the face of a great queen would come flirt with me or be interested. She simply appeared sweet and friendly.

I got the impression from her that if I didn't make a move, she wouldn't speak to me. So I cleared my throat, looked in her direction, and summoned the courage to flirt for the first time ever. 

I wasn't exactly confident in my flirting abilities, so I decided to keep it simple and capitalize on my youthful charm. "Can I get you a second drink, or are you good over there? By the way, my name is Chris. What is your name?"

I was in my twenties, so I could do it. Probably?

I lost some confidence as soon as my words left my mouth. The older people at the bar-style dinner suddenly diverted their attention away from their food and looked at me, wondering if I would fail. 

I cursed at them inside. I was really becoming a new person.

She responded surprisingly refreshingly and smilingly after scanning me and my face, saying, "I've drunk enough in the last few days, I think... Thank you for offering, though. The name is Karla."

There was no other way to describe her except as a woman straight out of a man's wet dream. Except that she actually existed and was portrayed in real life. She would put even the most beautiful sirens to shame.

I wasn't sure if I was rejected because she gave me her name. 

I didn't hear the more experienced patrons in the bar, some of whom were married, snickering, so I assumed I wasn't and said, "That's a nice name; where are you from? Around these parts?" 

I was trying to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure whether my flattering words had any meaning, sense, or purpose.

She nodded at me and replied with an even better, yet bitter, warm smile that was electric in its jaw-dropping perfection, "Yeah, I'm from Missouri, but from another city. I just came here by chance or stupidity with some of my drinking buddies. They left me here, as you can see."

She was ridiculing herself, yet while she spoke, I couldn't hear any wrath or resentment, only relief.

I considered carefully and commented, "Not sure what happened, but I can't say it's a shame to meet you here,"

She looked at me with astonishment and then chuckled as she remarked, "Really? You don't look like the type, but you can talk to women, it seems,"

This time, I was the one making fun of myself, saying, "I actually have zero experience in that field, if I'm being honest, did that line work?"

I wasn't attempting to make puns with the last bits of my surname. She wouldn't even get them because she didn't know it yet.

She hummed enthusiastically and replied, "Kinda, but that probably wouldn't work on someone other than me. I like cheesy."

I did not push my luck or ask if I was cheesy or corny; instead, I pointed out, "That's a relief. Would you mind if I moved a few seats?" 

I wanted to talk closer to her so we could get to know one other without everyone in the bar listening in. I also wanted to get a closer look at her.

She shook her head, indicating that she didn't, so I moved closer and took the seat next to her. We talked for a while longer, and our meals arrived after I felt more at ease, and it seems she did as well.

I later learned that she was called Karla Dixon and that she had a lot more to her than being a woman so beautiful that she looked like a dream. 

She was a year younger than me and was 21.