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What would he think of me if he knew? How much trauma could I cause my family if they found out? I can see my mom crying for days and my dad telling me repeatedly that he “ain’t raised his girls to be whores.” Even though sleeping with Freddy doesn’t make me a whore. And that’s part of the reason I have such a frustrating distaste for Hillpike. It feels like the olden days at times, and I like it when women are free to just live without harsh judgment.
The sun nearly blinds me, even with the baseball cap on my head. It’s hot, and the itch of frustration seems to have sharper beams than the sun. I spin around to test my luck of catching Freddy’s eyes on me through his motel’s window blinds.
To my surprise, I don’t see Freddy, but instead, some curly-haired blond woman poking out of a dark SUV’s sunroof with binoculars. She flips her head back as if examining the sky. It’s odd. She’s parked in the motel’s lot. I look both ways on the wide road that separates Walmart from the motel. I run across fast before I bravely take another look.
I spot a head in the driver’s seat, and I’m sure it belongs to whoever was standing up out of the sunroof. I quiver with brief anxiety as I watch the black SUV back up and leave. I pick up my running speed and dash to my mother’s car.
Once inside, I spy the black SUV speeding fast into Walmart’s parking lot. Is this really fucking happening? Is someone really chasing me? I start up the car, trying to convince myself that I’m overreacting, but there’s a feeling deep inside me that tells me to scurry out. I have to listen, even if it’s all internalized paranoia finally bubbling at the surface.
I set the car into reverse and cut a sharp left. I go in the opposite direction from the parking lot’s exit. Almost diagonally, I speed across the lot that only the delivery trucks use. I know that, eventually, I’ll be able to merge onto Miller Road this way.
Looking through the rearview mirror, I see the black SUV has stopped at the very end of Walmart’s customer parking lot. This is the closest place they could’ve gone without looking like they’re after me. But no one wants to park that far away from the store’s entrance. Whoever was in that car was after me or, at the very least, curious about me.
Tears, hot and sticky skirt down my face. When they curve into the corners of my mouth, I taste Freddy. His scent is all over me. As much as his smell brings me peace, it all simply crumbles as the inevitable ending of our hungry, horny love story has arrived. I wish I could confide in someone. Tell them that what felt so good is suddenly over. How easy was it for us to throw the towel in? I guess it takes a hint of the real world, aka my father, to pop up and threaten our relationship with his oblivious presence.
All I want is to go home, take a shower, and cry myself to sleep. But all of that would be too good to be true.
Instead, after my hot shower and eating a filling breakfast that consists of a feta-cheese omelet smothered with the jus of leftover meatloaf, Dad comes home.
“Hey, Dad!” Savannah calls out from the reading nook in the living room.
“Hey, Savannah! You have any more food left for me?”
There’s a sweat ring around Dad’s gym shirt.
“That’s Sadie, not me!”
“Hey, Dad. Are you hungry? There’s still some leftover meatloaf.”
For whatever odd reason, the sight of Mom’s meatloaf, which is one of her phenomenal staples, turns me off. The gravy I could do, but the texture of the big meaty meatloaf made my tummy feel sour. Odd.
“You’d be proud of me. Freddy put my body through some tough shit.” Dad brags, flexing his muscles in the mirror.
Oh no, little does Dad know what Freddy’s done with my body.
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow, huh?”
“Of course, you knew it was about working out! Anyone that sees Freddy knows he’s a man of the gym.”
“That man has muscles!” Savannah blurts out.
“True. Safe assumption,” I add, keeping my voice monotone, uninterested.
“Yes. I’ll probably grab some Epsom salts this evening. Any chance you filled your mom’s tank up with gas?”
“Oh, shit.”
“I’ll do it later.”
“I can do it, Dad.” Now what if that person follows my dad because…
“No, don’t trouble yourself.”
“Dad, I can do it. It was my responsibility.”
“True, but I have to grab your mother later, and I can do it with her car.”
I really don’t want to go back and forth. And I doubt whoever that was was after my mom’s car. They were following me. I should probably let Freddy know. But what if it all was in my head? Who knows? It was probably just my conscience after me. I didn’t recognize that woman, and there was no reason why anyone would choose to follow me.
