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I moved fast now. If Jeff came home… The thought stopped my breath. There was almost a thousand dollars in the box, squirreled away bit by bit in varyingly daring bids to build a war chest. Plus other items that couldn’t be easily explained away. Wigs, hair dye…
There was no reason for him to come home, though. I tried to breathe and think rationally.
Still, I got quickly ready, blowing out my hair again. I’d already had makeup on for breakfast—Jeff said he wanted to look at something pretty in the morning, that was how he put it, “something pretty,” so I always woke up two hours before he did to get ready and make breakfast.
I pulled on a dress, the only sort of thing I really owned besides the gardening clothes.
Plus, putting on a show was important for this leg of the journey. I slid my feet into high heels. Then I shoved the bags from the cash box into some of Jeff’s luggage, called for a taxi, and waited with bated breath in the foyer until the cab pulled up ten minutes later.
2
I had the cabbie drop me off at a motel half an hour south. I waited for him to drive off before hurrying down to the nearest bus stop. Two local bus exchanges later, I was finally at the central Greyhound terminal in San Jose. Buses going all over the country departed from here.
My heartbeat thrummed a hundred miles a minute. Was Jeff onto me yet? Was he… here?
I swallowed hard as I waited in line and finally got to the front of the ticketing window. I was still wearing my Penelope Chambers disguise and the guy behind the counter perked up.
Penelope Chambers always turned heads. Jeff had crafted me into the perfect wife, after all. At least from afar. But I’d felt less and less connected to the caricature he’d crafted me into. Big blonde hair, tight dresses, high heels. I’m sure he would have had me get implants if I hadn’t had C cups to start with.
I hadn’t felt connected to this shell in a long time and now less so than ever. But it was useful. This one last time I had to be her. Perform her.
I didn’t smile though.
There were cameras and this was a performance. Penelope Chambers was beautiful, but she was not brave. She was scared. Furtive.
Jeff would absolutely, one hundred percent be watching this video from their cameras at some point. This performance was all for him. As much as I hated it, this was who I want him to think he’d made me.
Cowering. Terrified.
Someone acting on fear and impulse who would be sloppy and not make it very far.
“C-could I please get a ticket to Chicago?” I asked. My voice was so quiet and tentative that the clerk had to ask me to repeat myself.
“Chicago. I- I’d like a ticket to Chicago please. Cash.” I flattened a bunch of crumpled bills onto the counter, along with my ID.
Jeff liked to call me mouse. It fit well into his predator/prey worldview.
I was the food you fed to snakes, in his mind.
Who would I be after today? I had no freaking clue. Surviving this was all I could think about first.
The attendant handed me the ticket. “You have a nice day, Miss.”
I dropped my head, hiding my face from him and any cameras pointed my way. And only then, curtained by my hair did I allow a small, secretly thrilled smile.
First part down. Holy shit, I was actually doing this. I erased the smile from my face and lifted my head back up. Okay, one last walk for the cameras.
My heartbeat, already ringing in my ears, got even louder and more frantic.
I moved with stately elegance toward the bathrooms. I swung my hips and held my head high. I walked like Penelope fucking Chambers.
Because although he made me weak and meek, he also demanded exacting standards when we were out in public, a wife who wouldn’t ‘embarrass him.’ Mouse in the house but queen on the scene.
He wanted me to be more beautiful, more perfect and elegant and witty than any of his friend’s or business partner’s wives. Oh, he’d undermine me to those self-same wives to ensure I was always isolated, but he wanted their husbands to be envious of him.
And I paid an exacting punishment when I failed.
So I knew how to own a room. And when I walked, heads turned.
It was one last runway for Penelope Chambers.
May she rest in fucking peace.
And then I got to the bathroom and headed for the handicap stall. I was quick about it. Time was of the essence. I felt it counting down, a giant ticking clock hanging over my head like a proverbial sword.
I couldn’t help feeling like I’d wasted too much time as it was. Frustrating, since I’d tried to plan everything to a T. I couldn’t have the cab driver bring me directly here. Or maybe it was foolish, Jeff was going to find out where I was going eventually, but taking every last precaution to throw him off the scent seemed smart at the time. Even though I knew he’d always end up following every bread crumb. I just prayed time was on my side.
