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1
Contessa
It’s not every day that you find yourself blindfolded and hogtied in the back of a Range Rover, but for me, that day has come on April 16 th, with overcast skies and a setting sun that seems to hang low in the sky for hours, bleeding out the day. Perfect weather for your casual weekend abduction.
I mentally track every bump in the road. I count each turn and every red light…or are they stop signs? Did we merge onto a freeway, or are we still navigating city traffic? I can hardly hear myself think over the roaring of the unseasonable Christmas music pumping through the speakers. The manic glee of “Jingle Bell Rock” vibrates through my bones as I roll blindly around the back of the SUV.
A tarp stretches over the back window. I can’t work my fingers around to try and pull it down. We sling around a corner and I go toppling over again, taking the brunt of the impact on my shoulder.
My father said this would never happen to me.
He promised me that.
Just like everything else he promised that turned out to be a lie. I seethe, fighting the urge to kick and scream against the back seats. I need to save my strength.
I can’t tell if it’s been 20 minutes or 200. Time distorts when you’re facing down certain, miserable death. The car swings in somewhere and rolls to a stop. The engine dies. The last screams of Bobby Helms fade into a ringing silence.
I brace myself. By my best calculations and the mental map I have intricately drawn out in my head, I have no idea where I am. God, I really am hopeless.
Footsteps circle the back of the car. I can’t make out the muffled talking through my newly discovered tinnitus. I steel myself and work into a position to jump out. When the men report what happened and this story inevitably makes its way back to my father, they won’t tell him I fought back. They’ll tell him I pleaded for him like a baby. By the time this is over, maybe I will. But I will know, and they will know, that I tried to go down swinging even with both hands tied behind my back.
The trunk lifts open with a pressurized hiss. I spring out—toppling—and headbutt straight into a strong chest that barks out a startled ‘woah!’ I am swept up into multiple arms, caught in a spin and put on my feet.
There’s laughter, giddy laughter, and then—
The blindfold is ripped off my face.
“Happy birthday!” voices shriek.
I stare, numb and dizzy, at the familiar faces of my friends. My adrenaline spikes and crashes faster than a motorcycle into a guardrail. I have gone from certain, painful death to standing with my closest friend group, on my birthday, on a very public sidewalk. Our group is washed in the neon lights of a club entrance.
I am caught somewhere between laughing, crying, and puking. Kaydence crushes me into a tippy-toed hug. We totter back and forth, and I’m grateful for a chance to hide my face in her shoulder and get myself under control.
It’s just a little near-death experience, Tessa. Pull it together.
My tears are mistaken for tears of gratitude as excited hugs go around the group.
Kaydence, her boyfriend, Cole, Lindy, Josh—I recognize each face. None of them know my heart is beating in my throat. That I can taste my own fear on the back of my teeth.
It’s exactly the kind of prank you expect on a birthday evening, the kind of thing I would have expected if I was just another person. Someone, anyone else.
It being my birthday hadn’t even registered when I stepped outside my art studio and the blindfold slipped over my eyes. It was, in that moment, all my old fears coming back to life. If my friends knew anything about the truth of who I am or the place I come from, they would have never done it, but they don’t know. No one can know.
“Guys…” I reach for my first words of the evening, and only come up with a strangled, “I can’t believe it.” They laugh again, and I make myself join in. I can’t bear to yell at them for a good deed. Cole and Josh high five. No doubt they did most of the heavy lifting. I wipe my eyes before the tears can fall. A little trauma is no excuse for running eyeliner.
“Where are we?”
“Let’s go find out,” Kaydence urges, steering us into the club that is our surprise destination. My head is still reeling. “You thought your birthday was over? It’s just getting started. All that pampering was just prep for my real birthday present to you.”
Oh, God.
Kaydence and I had spent my birthday doing a girl’s day out, and she’s already done too much for me—I know what her financial situation is like and she still went all out. We’d gotten our hair and nails done, and shopped for new clothes and heels. I opted for a Hollywood vintage glam look, and we ended the day with a mini photoshoot for our socials. I had a great time, which should have been my first clue something was amiss just over the horizon. Our reckless spending spree had all built up to this night out.
I don’t know how I didn’t put it together.
Her hand catches my wrist and holds it fast as she stops us just past the bouncer. I can always tell when Kay has something genuine to say. She has to touch you somehow, your shoulder, your wrist, your hand. It’s like the genuineness of her words can sink in through skin-to-skin contact. Our eyes meet, and I see the earnest care in those dark, glossy eyes.
“Tess, I know you said you were staying out of the dating scene, but just hear me out.”
