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My husband isn’t there. My kids aren’t there.
There’s only one last place I can think to go.
I take off at a runner’s pace now, hoping the flip flops I found don’t break under my feet.
This next destination is the final test. The test to see how far this nightmare has gone.
I round the corner onto the next street.
The stripper names are still racing through my mind. The pictures on the dresser. The wallpaper selfie on the phone I’m carrying. The woman who answered Nick’s number when I called.
I’m out of breath as I make the final turn, but I’m not stopping until I get there. I’m not stopping until I know that I’m out of options.
Rachel’s house comes into view and I sprint the rest of the way to her front door. I’m panting as I knock, hoping she answers. I only wait two seconds before I’m completely consumed by panic and force myself inside.
I step into the laundry room and there’s a new smell. Not the smell of fresh linen that I’ve grown used to. No. Something a little more pungent and not purposefully set out by an adult.
I look down and notice there’s a child standing in the doorway in front of me holding a bunny slipper. A child that I’ve never seen before. One who has a diaper on with a hint of green smeared on his leg and I quickly realize where the smell is coming from.
“Who is it?” a woman’s voice calls from the kitchen. The kid must be someone Rachel is watching today. Smelly little thing.
The woman sounds like Rachel and I feel a smile spread across my lips.Thank God!
“Rachel!” I shout. “It’s me. Thank God you’re home. I-,”
But I’m cut off when a woman comes into view. A woman that is definitely not Rachel. She’s wearing stained sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes along the collar. I look toward her feet and notice the match to the slipper that the strange child is holding.
I scan the room that was once Rachel’s elegant laundry room. It’s now flooded with toys and cluttered with shoes. The pictures that hang on the walls aren’t of Rachel, but of someone that couldn’t even pass for Rachel on her best day.
I stumble out of the foyer and onto the porch. Tears flood my eyes and my chest is tight, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“What is happening?”
“Ma’am,” the woman says as she comes out onto the porch, pushing the small child further inside. “Are you alright? Can I help you with something?” Though her appearance is chaotic, her tone is soft and tender.
I shake my head. “No.” My voice is cracking as the sobs become audible. “Nobody can help me.”
Slowly, I get to my feet and cross my arms over my chest. I start walking, leaving Not Rachel standing on her stoop to stare at me with confusion.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I walk. Block after block.
Everything races through my mind as I make my way to nowhere in particular. The fights I had with Nick. The sass I got from Jenna. The attitude I heard from Carter.
All of it. I replay it over and over in my mind.
Then, I remember. I remember what I said.
“I did this,” I whisper to myself.
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and put a hand on my forehead. My palms are clammy and my forehead is burning up.
“I wished for this.” My chin quivers. “I wished for a different life.”
I’m standing on the sidewalk as people buzz past me on their bikes. Cars blow their horns and a few people even stop to ask if I need help. I simply shake my head as I stand here, waiting for my life to come whirling back to me.
How is this possible? How do I undo this?
My stomach churns, but nothing comes up. I’m empty. I’ve already puked up everything inside me into Lexus’ garbage bin.
