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I stopped being a hermit about three months later, but I still kept to myself. The thought of socializing with anyone sent me into a panic as I was afraid they’d uncover what I did. I didn’t drive. Instead, I rode around the slow-moving town on a bike.
The freedom of coming and going was difficult at first, but I eventually got used to it once again. Every week, two thousand dollars was deposited into my bank account. I knew who it was. When I asked the bank tellers if they could trace where the deposits came from, they said it was from an offshore account.
I didn’t want to press, afraid of drawing attention to myself. I didn’t need all that money, but Saint ensured I was well looked after. But it wasn’t his money I wanted. I wanted him. But I understood why he did what he did. We were both broken and needed time to heal.
But not a day went by that I didn’t think of him, and after months and months of pining for him, I decided to try to find him. But I didn’t know where to start. I called every Hennessy in Syracuse, New York, pretending to be a telemarketer, conducting a current population survey in hopes of finding out any information I could.
I came up empty. Turns out no one wanted to talk to strangers. That included me.
I toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator, but who could I trust to be discreet? I made Google my best friend and investigated what I could on my own. I wondered if maybe there were any records of Zoey’s death and burial. There wasn’t. I couldn’t find anything on Sara either.
What I did find, however, was something that made me smile—the first smile in months.
The orphanage in Russia had been given a facelift. A reported million-plus dollars went into the rebuild, but there was no word on where the money had come from. The newspaper article showed Mother Superior standing on the newly constructed front steps surrounded by her children. They all looked so happy with their new home.
In the background, naked to the untrained eye, I saw something or, rather,someone. It was Alek.
Although he looked completely different with a longer hairstyle and full beard, I knew it was him. But something was different about him. He looked happy.
He had his arms around two small children who leaned into him, their toothless smiles revealing their genuine happiness at him being there.
I wondered if he had returned to crime to be able to afford the rebuild, as I guessed he was the one responsible for the funds. I didn’t know what was left of the world we burned to the ground, but I didn’t think someone like Alek could stay away from that lifestyle for too long.
Although every bone in my body told me not to, I called the orphanage. Mother Superior was happy to hear from me, cheerfully detailing all the changes the orphanage had undergone. I asked how Alek was, and she said safe, which was code for she respected his privacy and wouldn’t tell me anything else.
She did share with me that she hadn’t seen or spoken to Saint. She clearly knew I left Russia without him. When she asked me if I wanted to pass a message onto Alek, I said no. I had nothing I wanted to say. Maybe one day I will.
Besides, I have a feeling Aleksei’s story has only just begun.
I wished her well, and that was the last we spoke.
It seemed Saint had disappeared off the face of the earth, which is what he wanted. He knew where I was, and if he wanted me to know where he was, he could contact me at any time. But he didn’t. I read between the lines and respected his wishes even though it hacked at my heart with a fucking chainsaw.
After a while, I grew angry with him. It seemed so easy for him to stay away. Maybe he didn’t really care after all. Which is why I didn’t want his money and decided to get a job. I had to relearn how to mix with society and not seek out a weapon the moment someone stepped within three feet of me.
I became a farmhand, finding the animals easier to deal with than people. They didn’t ask questions. They couldn’t see the pain I hid behind every single day. My favorite chore was collecting the eggs early in the morning. It reminded me of Harriet Pot Pie.
So my life consisted of working long days, then coming home, eating dinner, and reading before bed. It was a simple existence, but it was mine.
No one bothered me, which is how I liked it, and for a little while, life was good. Well, as good as life can be for someone who was totally alone.
One day, however, everything changed, and that came when I was flicking through an article online about self-made entrepreneurs. When Drew’s face assaulted my screen, I actually had to run to the bathroom because I got sick.
He never strayed far from my thoughts, but I was no longer intent on vengeance because I had lost the will to fight. I was living under a constant shadow, and I had no energy to live, let alone hatch a plan of revenge. But that changed when I saw that Drew was getting married—again.
The peppy blonde had stars in her eyes, reminding me of the person I once was. She was an up-and-coming model. Drew seemed to have a pattern.
Drew didn’t mourn my death. He was living life as though I didn’t exist, and here I was, feeling sorry for myself. It was the wake-up call I needed.
Anger I haven’t felt in so long rattled me to the core, and before I knew what I was doing, I was making appointments with the beauty salons across town. I had my hair cut and styled. I also got some much-needed waxing. If I was going to do this, I would ensure to do it looking nothing less than fucking fabulous.
I didn’t want to resemble the living dead even though that was exactly what I would be when I turned up on Drew’s doorstep and yelled surprise, bitch!
I waited for the perfect moment because as I’ve come to learn, everything is about timing. Each moment in time is lived for the next. And although I missed Saint more than I thought humanly possible, it was time I let him go.
He never left my heart, but I allowed myself to live. He had asked this of me, and I intended to honor him, hoping he was doing the same thing. I had promised to let him go so he could live. So he could do some soul searching. I only agreed because his happiness means more to me than my own.
As much as it pained me, I forced myself to socialize. The local church was my go-to because I felt the safest there. I wasn’t a social butterfly, but I wasn’t a recluse anymore either, and after a while, I learned how to be human again. What I did, the lives I took, I repented for every day.
