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She looks at me expectantly, like I’ll spill my deepest, darkest secrets right here on this train to a complete stranger. She seems nice, but considering my dream was based on reality, that would be theworstidea ever.
Sometimes the monsters in our nightmares haunt us still when we wake.
Forcing another smile, I try to make sure it reaches my eyes this time as I give a gentle shake of my head. “Thank you for checking on me. That’s sweet of you, but really, I’m fine.”
She draws back finally with a curt nod. “Where are you headed to, dear?”
I turn my head towards the window and stare at the passing landscape for a second before returning my gaze to her. “I don’t know yet. Wherever feels like home, I guess.”
I’m terrified I can’t do this on my own, but that pales in comparison to how afraid I feel at the thought of going home.
How has my life come to this?
I’m on the run from my criminal fiancé. Who knows the lengths he’ll go to get me back in his grasp—or how far he’ll go to have someone hunt me down and finish the job he couldn’t.
Nothing about this was planned, so I don’t know how far I should go or how long I should be gone. My anxiety spikes as my thoughts spiral.
In an attempt to hold off a full-blown panic attack, I turn back toward the nice older woman. “I’m on an adventure, and I haven’t decided yet where I’m going to stop.”
Her gentle smile brightens at that. “Oh, how exciting! I’ve always wanted to do something like that. Just head out with no destination in mind. It must be so exhilarating!”
I chuckle to myself. Oh, it’s exhilarating alright, but only in the thrilling sense. Not all thrills are fun and exciting, just like not all luck is good. This poor woman seems to have a rosy view. She has no idea how dangerous things are simply being near me.
After clearing my throat to distract my wandering mind, I say, “Where are you headed to? Somewhere exciting?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. I just came to meet my grandson. He’s coming back with me for a few weeks.”
Just then, a little boy comes bounding down the aisle. “Grandma, they have Cheetos for snacks! Look, I got us both a bag!” The boy can’t be more than six, and he’s dressed in jeans and a worn t-shirt with his shoelaces untied on one shoe. He skids to a stop in front of his grandma and plops down beside her. He looks up and over at me. “Hi! Why do you look so sad?”
My eyes widen with shock at his sudden question, causing me to stare back in stunned silence.
“Honey, you can’t ask people questions like that!” Grandma scolds.
His little brows furrow as his mouth hangs open in what looks like slight offense. “Well, it’s the truth! She looks like someone stole her cookie.”
My head falls back as I let out a loud bark of laughter.Well, kid, I wish it was that simple.
“It’s okay,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I look sad because I’m leaving my family, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I’m going on an adventure,” I say with a sad smile.
“Don’t be sad then. That sounds fun! Grandma, Grandma, I want to go on an adventure! Please, please, pretty please?” His hands press together forcefully, his fingers interlaced like he’s praying. Those big brown eyes are wide, twinkling, and trained right on her as he pleads with his whole body.
She smiles and says, “Not today, kiddo, but maybe when we get back to my house.”
He bounces up and down in his seat excitedly, clapping his hands. His joy brings a genuine smile to my face, and it feels good. I don’t have much to smile over right now, but seeing his innocent joy lifts my spirits.
I’ve always wanted kids, but Christopher was never open to the idea. He said he wanted to focus on his career first. At first, I was okay with that idea. I assumed we’d get married and settled, and eventually, he’d change his mind.
However, that was a naïve thought.
It seems I was just a box to check with him. He needed the dutiful, pretty wife on his arm. I realize now that I was never more than a prop for him, and that breaks my heart. I feel stupid for believing his lies. For buying into the illusion.
I want love, kids, and a quiet life where I can do my art. Having dinner every night at home with my husband and kids. Watching them grow. Seeing them blossom into the people they were born to be. I want the real thing, but right now, that’s the furthest thing from possible.
All I can focus on right now is surviving.
“These train rides are long and boring. Miss, did you bring anything to read? I have an extra book if you want to borrow it.”
I’m surprised by her kindness, but it’s refreshing. Especially after the night I’ve had. I appreciate the offer because I have nothing to pass the time, and Ireallydon’t want to be left with my thoughts. Clearly, they aren’t joyful while awake or while sleeping.
