"A.J., I've jumped ..."

"A.J., I've jumped ...."

I re-read Charli's last email, thinking she'd just punked me. I dial her number and read it one more time. Ring, once, twice, three times, voice mail. Frustrated, I hang up, type a few lines and press send.

No response. An hour passes, nothing. She sends me a brief message:

I QUIT. Charli Mac is going to die in an alcohol induced frenzy.
Good bye cruel world. I am done son.

I don't quit. You can knock me down, kick me a few times, and spit in my face, but I DON'T QUIT. So, Charli, my American lover ... 'tis what are husbands think, I am not letting you off that easily.

Uh no, not happening.

After that message, I was revved up. I pulled my suitcase out of the closet, tossed in some clean knickers, hair straightener and lip stick. I was ready to go. Called the hubby at work, got his voice mail and told him, "Baby, I'm driving to Philly." Dropped my daughter off at the mother in laws, typed Charli's coordinates into my trusty GPS, got a coffee, and hit the road.I raced through downtown Toronto, intent on my goal;

to reach the U.S. - Canadian border by noon.

What's an eight hour and fifty nine minute drive for yer crit lass? Nothing. The GPS told me I'd be passing over a few toll bridges, you want to bypass it asks? Nah, what are toll bridges?

We just get taxed for that shit here.

Palms sweaty, I reach the border, buzzed on coffee, jittery, and in need of food. I pass a middle aged woman my paper work. Taciturn, and unsmiling, she looks at my passport, then up at me. Three times. That's right, I draw my eyebrows on.

"What business do you have in the U.S., ma'am?"

"Driving to Philly to stop my crit partner from jumping off the ledge."

She stops in her perusal of my passport and glances up, lips compressed in a tight line. "You're going to stop your, uh, crit partner from jumping off a ledge?"

I smile, and nod enthusiastically, let her think I'm some crazy Canuck. "Aye, lass."

She ducks into her little booth, all the while staring at me, picks up a phone and starts talking. Great, she thinks I'm nuts. Hanging up the phone, she steps back out and passes me my passport. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Woot, I'm over the border, only another five or so hours to go. I'm almost there. I can feel it, taste it, driving on the open road. Four, three, two hours, I'm going to be there by sunset.

Charli keeps calling me, probably thinking I was joking when I replied to her email with:

That's it! I'm driving to Philly. You better have a couch
for me to sleep on after a 9 hr drive. Peace out.

Nuts eh? Who the hell drops everything and drives nine hours? Me, nuts over here. 'Shrugs.' Why not, I thought. Hubby just said, uh huh, ok babe, drive safe, don't speed and call me when you get there. Great guy huh? He's a keeper!

Phone is still ringing, my GPS is beeping, telling me I'm going over the speed limit, and then I see it, TOLL BRIDGE AHEAD. Yeah, yeah, I fish into my purse, pull out a bill and keep driving.

Rate: 0.75 - No problem.

Yeah, right.

If it involves AJ and Charli, guaranteed, there's gonna be a problem.

I hand the dude a five dollar bill, a Canadian five dollar bill.

'We don't accept foreign currency ma'am."

I'm almost to Philly, tired, sweaty, and dying for a smoke. "We take American money in Canada, just do the conversion." He looks at me like I'm nuts. "Better yet, keep the change."

"Are you bribing me ma'am?" I'm not a granny. I hate when peeps call me ma'am.

"No, sir." I never thought about stopping to get my money changed into American dollars. "So, um your not going to take the money? Mastercard?"

Nope, he wouldn't take my money, even after I tossed it at him and tried to cross the bridge. He called in the state troopers, big guys with funny hats. Ever seen the inside of a po-dunck, out of the way jail cell? Nope?

I have.

They gave me one call. And it went something like this. "Charli, yeah, that's right I'm in, where am I?" Troopers tell me, I tell her. "Get in your car and come an get me. Bring 0.75 American. Yeah, their looking at me funny. Hurry up. Bye."

Without Charli's bail money, I wouldn't be here. Here with wifi and some smarties, my snoring husband and chafed wrists.

I owe you, Charli and this is me giving back, I PROMISE to track down those god damn legbreakers, twist a few arms, and strangle yer maker.

Better start saving.

I might need bail money.