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From inside the envelope, I take out the folded sheet of paper and read the three little words written there: Been a while.
31
Melissa
My phone comes to life, startling me.
I catch my breath, put the sheet of paper down.
Taking my phone, I absently enter my password and look at all the missed calls.
I listen to the first from Deirdre telling me she’d work extra hours until I got back, then another from Jim at the garage telling me about a newer model Ford Escort that he just took in to sell and would I be interested? He says it’s a good car without too many miles and makes a crack about my duct tape fender.
The next two are disconnects. Probably wrong numbers.
I think the one after those must be a wrong number too because it’s silent at first but there’s something different about this silence. It’s not empty. I can hear whoever is on the line breathing.
And when the caller clicks his tongue, I feel myself go rigid, feel myself grow cold as every hair on my body stands on end.
How can a sound, the simple clicking of a tongue, have that kind of power over someone?
How can it just erase years?
Because it does just that. It simply wipes the years between us away and transports me back in time. Back to when I was a little girl.
A scared little girl at the mercy of monsters.
“Been a while.”
The phone slips from my hand, clatters to the floor and I know if I wasn’t sitting down, I’d fall.
I know he’s talking again. I hear the mumble of words while I just sit looking at the phone down there and thinking how modern it looks against this old floor, this wasted carpet.
Minutes pass until finally, I hear the recording telling me my options and I reach down to pick it up. The recording repeats, and I choose the option to listen again.
And there it is again. The silence, the breathing, that clicking of his tongue. Those same words he’d written on that sheet of paper that Hawk somehow intercepted. Probably in my mail. He’s had someone pick it up. He’s got this whole thing all sorted out.
“You look good,” Sean says, drawing the words out. “Just got a glimpse at the shop. Can’t wait to have a real close look.”
I shrink into myself.
“And I’d love to see you, since I’m in town. Hell, since all three of us are in town. When’s the last time that happened?” He takes a deep breath in. “You and me and Liza will have a family reunion.”
I can’t breathe.
“And besides, I miss you.”
I want to disconnect. To delete the message. Bury my head in the sand.
But Sean Boyd won’t go away, though. Even if I delete a hundred messages. Even across an ocean, I’m not safe.
But what he said about seeing me. The shop. I think about Deirdre alone there.
“Guessing your boyfriend won’t like sharing you though, huh? He doesn’t know what a little whore you are, I bet. Or does he know you cream yourself having your mouth and cunt stuffed at once? I wonder if he’s seen the videos.”
“Stop,” I say weakly, but I’m not sure to who.
Even my voice, it’s that of the little girl and my eyes are wet. I am her again. That powerless little girl.
“I miss my Little Bitch Whore.”
The taunt has an edge of hate to it and I make a choked sound at those words.
Little Bitch Whore.
That’s his name for me. Was from the first time he raped me.
“You’ll meet me, Melissa. Or I’ll make sure your boyfriend and all his buddies see what a dirty pervert you are.” His voice is hard now. He’s not playing. I know this Sean. This one’s the meanest.
“I’m at the Palazzo. I’ll leave a key for you in an envelope marked L.B.W. What do you think?”
Shouldn’t the voice mail have cut him off already? Why is he going on?
“Tomorrow at noon. A nooner. I miss those, don’t you? I’ll see you then, Little Bitch Whore. Don’t be late. I don’t want to have to start in on Liza without you there. Bruises are a pain to cover up. You remember that, don’t you? And she’s already in bad shape. Can you believe she came out here to find you? Says she wanted to reconnect. I guess she missed you, too. Honestly though, I just think she needed some cash.” There’s a pause before he continues, his tone more threatening now. “Don’t make me come get you, Melissa.”
With that, he disconnects.
I sit there for a long minute listening to the racing of my heart. Trying to stop my hands from shaking.
I dial the shop, but the recording goes on and I remember the time zones. It’s the middle of the night there.
Liza. I have to call Liza.
