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“And I apologize for that ahead of time.”
22
“Socks. I need socks,” I grumble under my breath, heading toward my small laundry room. I’ve done nothing but wash, fold, and arrange for the last two days—since getting the news— and my closet has never been so clean. I’m not a neat freak or anal over what goes where, but right now, I rival professional organizers. “Socks. Must get socks.”
This is a coping mechanism, a way to distract myself from the inevitable. I know this. I’m not unaware of my faults and the role I play in this mess.
I’m leaving.
I’m doing this, even though every fiber of my being hates it.
I’ve lied to my friend. I have no choice but to lie to him, a phone call I’m dreading.
“Today.” I’ll call him today and just get this over with.
In a small way, I find reprieve in our long-distance relationship. The weeks without him near have made the lies a little easier to say—the phone calls and video-chats hide more than just a person’s true feelings. He didn’t see my reaction after having no contact with my family for months. He didn’t see how physically sick I became after the instructions were delivered.
A knock on the door of my small office at the women’s home makes me look up from the new software I’m thinking of adding to our budget. It’s nothing fancy or difficult to navigate, but definitely one you need if looking to land any office job.
“Can I help you?” The man standing there looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t pinpoint him.
“Miss Rubens?” he asks, voice rough as if he’s smoked his entire life.
“That’s me.” Discreetly, I bring a hand to my waist and the new bottle of pepper spray there. It’s a new brand and promises near blindness upon contact. “And again. How can I help you?”
In his hand he holds a stapled sheet of paper and envelope. “I’m here to deliver this. Can you please sign for me?”
“Sure.” I’m not expecting anything, and he just doesn’t fit the bill of a courier. This man is in a cheap suit and is wearing too much cheap cologne. His hair is slicked back and face unshaven. “What is it?”
“It’s from Governor Rubens’s office.” Five words that ruin my day. My stomach plummets and hands begin to sweat as he brings the envelope over.
I thought he was leaving me alone. I thought I was free.
Hastily, I sign my name, the man leaves, and I’m stuck with the manila bomb sitting atop the desk.
Just get it over with. Tearing into the package, I’m greeted by the sight of airplane tickets, a fake itinerary, and a note that says:
My beautiful daughter,
You work too hard and deserve a break.
There’s more to life than the hustle and bustle of an office or school, Aliana. Please accept this early birthday present from your mother and no complaining, sweetheart. It’s done, and we’ve booked you an all-inclusive package with six days of fun in the sun and relaxation.
You leave in five days!
Have fun,
Your, loving parents.
But worse than that is the picture I find folded within the itinerary of my father with an arm thrown over my brother’s shoulders. A knot forms in my throat. This is a silent threat. The picture depicts a loving family, a dad and his two boys, but I see the evil in his eyes. I take in the way my brothers are tense and…
The ringing of my cell in another room pulls me from those depressive thoughts—how easily they use and manipulate me while always saving face for the public. To an outsider, they seem like loving, caring, and generous parents. Doting and sweet, but I know better, and my father does everything in a way that saves his own behind.
He’ll gamble mine, but never his. He’ll hurt them to make me bend.
Rushing out, I toss my basket atop the dryer. It’s Aurora’s ringtone and I manage to pick up on the fourth ring, slightly out of breath and stomach in knots. “Yolo!” I half wheeze, half chuckle. “You back to the land of the living?”
“I am,” she laughs, whatever music she’d been listening to dimming down a bit. She’s been a bit under the weather the last few days, not coming into the Conte House. Thank God it’s been manageable, the women who’ve been there the longest stepping up to help the newbies acclimate to the rules and daily routine.
