Run Like Hell (17 page)

“Morgan, I’m so sorry,” is all she manages to say before she cries.

Mom’s arms around me and hearing her sobs in my ear makes me tear up. Standing in the driveway, I mirror Mom’s sobs. Her arms wrap tighter around me until I’m gasping for breath. She steps back and kisses my temples several times, then tugs me into her arms for another smothering embrace. She’s so warm and smells of her chic, expensive perfume that I often spritz on myself before school. How I’ve missed her smell, the sound of her soft breaths, and the motherly comfort of her arms.

Dad slams the car door and hauls several of the suitcases to the porch. Once Mom pulls away, Dad steps in and wraps me in a big bear hug. Over Dad’s shoulder I watch Rory and Mom embrace. Mom thanks Rory for everything she’s done this week.

“I’m so sorry,” Dad whispers in my ear.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

I pull away and stare hard at him. “Dad, you did nothing wrong.”

“You’re my little girl. You were in trouble and I wasn’t here to protect you.”

I’d never seen my dad so deflated, weak, and vulnerable. I’d done this to him. I’m his Achilles heel. My dad, my protector – he has to accept that I’m growing up and I have to make decisions for myself.

I can’t talk. My throat is constricted and I know if I speak I’ll cry. My actions hurt my dad. I want my strong, confident, fearless father back – not this man standing before me, filled with worry and concern. I wrap my arms around him and his arms circle around me too. I rest my head against his chest, close my eyes, and listen to the steady beats of his heart. He’s home now, Brian’s at the police station, and life can reset back to normal.

Once inside the house, Mom and Dad settle in and I retire to my room until dinner. Rory, despite my objections, wants to cook dinner for everyone tonight. I relent, feeling the need to lie down and rest. I curl up on my bed and close my eyes when I hear the house phone ring. Nobody calls that number anymore. Everyone I talk to calls my cell phone. I roll onto my side and scrunch my pillow under my head, wanting a nap desperately. A light knocking on my door interrupts my rest.

“It’s open,” I call from my bed.

Rory steps into the room. “I know you must be tired but Todd called.” She walks across the room and sits on the edge of my bed.

“Got a hot date planned?” I tease her but she doesn’t smile. Instead, she reaches for my hand and holds it gently.

“I’m so sorry, Morgan, but the police released Brian.”

I suck in my breath. “What? What about my statement? I identified him!”

This can’t be happening. Things are supposed to be normal now. Brian’s supposed to be in jail and Mom and Dad are home. My attacker isn’t supposed to be on the loose again.

“I don’t understand.” My heart is racing and sleep is the furthest thing from my mind now. I swing my legs off the bed and begin pacing the room nervously.

“Morgan, they don’t have any evidence to support your statement. They can’t hold him without evidence.”

“But he chased me yesterday and he had my dog at his house. This is bullshit, Rory. You know it too.” I can’t think straight. It’s so unfair. I’d confessed everything and he’s being released.

Rory shakes her head in understanding. “Tommy is still locked up. He’s the one who attacked you.”

Her attempt to make me feel better doesn’t work.

“They all attacked me. And Ricky too.” I stare out my window, now dark outside. I hear Mom and Dad talking downstairs. I want to be alone. Rory stands up, as if sensing my need for privacy, and walks toward the door.

“Do you want this closed?” she asks.

“Please.” Before she shuts the door I stop her. “Rory, thank you. Thank you for being here these past few days.”

She smiles and closes the door. I hear her tell Mom and Dad in the hallway that I want to be alone right now. They must’ve come upstairs to check on me.

I ignore the messages and texts on my cell phone. Frustrated, I log onto my laptop and Google stories about other girls who had been attacked and how they dealt with it. Then I do something I haven’t done yet – I research Caroline’s disappearance online. I don’t know her last name so I have to navigate through many links to finally locate the local story.

I do look like her! I stare at my computer screen with her photo from the article that ran in the local newspaper. The similarities are scary. Had Brian really hurt her or killed her? Did he have anything to do with her disappearance? Would the police ever find her? Reading the articles isn’t encouraging. The police have no leads and it’s been months since she went missing.

I devour the article and the details of her disappearance. She’s twenty-one and had visited several local bars with her friends on a Saturday night. Her friends claim Caroline didn’t drink that night and was sober when she drove home. She never made it home, though. Her car was found several days later in a wooded area. Police searched the woods for signs of her disappearance but they hadn’t found anything. I don’t know how long I sit in front of my computer, starring at her picture, but I can’t get over the fact that she’s been missing for four months. How close was I to facing the same fate as Caroline?

I shut down my laptop and run a bubble-bath in my bathroom. The tub fills and the lavender-scent permeates through my bathroom. I grab my iPod, strip out of my clothes, and sink into the warm water. My favorite music pipes through my ear-buds and drowns out the world around me.

Visions of the past week flash through my mind as I soak in the water with my eyes closed. I recall the moment Mom’s car ran out of gas and I parked on the side of the road. Brian’s face, pressed against the passenger side window, is clear in my mind. I envision him driving with the cigarette in his hand. I recall hiding behind the tree in the woods, hearing him approach, his grip on my arm, my fist connecting with his face, his threats, yells, and angry words –all reminders of what I escaped.

I place my ear-buds on the side of the tub, next to my iPod. Sinking beneath the water, I hold my breath, imaging myself buried, forgotten, gone. I hold my breath for over a minute. Rising beneath the remaining bubbles, I exhale, happy to be alive.

Chapter Twelve

The thing about high school is eventually a new story replaces an old one. After a month, the gossip shifted from me to Aurora Blake when her pregnancy started showing in her fifth month. Girls have gotten pregnant in my school before, but Aurora is the local minister’s daughter. Even more shocking is her boyfriend’s admission that they’ve never had sex which has everyone speculating who the father is. Immaculate conception, indeed. I could care less. At least my name isn’t whispered anymore.

Mom and Dad ground me indefinitely. They admit I’ve disappointed them and they need time to regain their trust in me. I also suppose they’re scared something will happen to me, especially since Brian is free.

One morning Dad suggests I stop by Shop-Aide, the local drug store, after school to talk to Mr. Milon, a friend of his who’s the store manager. He heard Shop-Aide is hiring. After completing an application and interviewing with Mr. Milon, I get hired. I’m scheduled four nights a week and all day Sunday as a cashier. By the end of the summer I’ll have enough saved for a down-payment on a car. Awesome!

Jack and I have taken a step back in our relationship. The conditions of my grounding don’t allow me to hang out at my friends’ homes. They’re allowed to come to my house but we’re confined to the living room or the front porch. Jack and I only have privacy when he picks me up after work or when we hang out on the porch. Dad’s always watching the news in the living room when he’s home so there’s no point hanging out in there.

These days, Traci and Carlos are inseparable. Traci rarely stops by. We talk and text more than we see each other. I’m happy for her, though. Carlos is a great guy and he’s crazy about her. The past few weeks Traci and Jack have gotten in the habit of visiting me at work. I enjoy restocking the shelves at night because they can talk to me in the aisles while I work. Sometimes Mr. Milon will give me a warning, but I’ve never been late to work and my register has never been short money so I’m on his good side for now. Therefore, he overlooks my friends talking to me for twenty minutes during my shifts.

Ricky and I haven’t kept in touch despite what we went through. I visited him twice before he was released from the hospital. Occasionally, we bump into one another in the halls at school but he always looks embarrassed to see me or talk to me. I think he’s carrying a lot of guilt and shame around on his shoulders and I really hope he’s receiving some counseling.

Ms. Trudell, the school counselor, and I still have our weekly sessions in her office. I enjoy talking to her. I’m relieved after our conversations. Disclosing my fears and worries is cathartic. She knows I love Brach’s watermelon hard-candies and keeps a bowl on her desk filled with them especially for me. I leave her office with a handful stuffed in my pocket and the payoff is worth the discussions. I often wonder if Ricky talks to her too, but it’s not my business to ask. Perhaps I’ll ask him one day if he likes watermelon hard-candies too.

Tonight, my shift at work ends in ten minutes. I finish ringing up my customer’s order and smile at Rose when she arrives and stashes her purse under the counter. Rose disappears into the back office and returns with her register till to relieve me. After balancing my register in the office, I say good-night to my co-workers and meet Mom outside. She’s parked in front of the store waiting for me. Jack’s ankle healed and tonight he’s playing basketball at the gym with his friends.

My relationship with my mother has improved. She often picks me up at work if Jack is busy and we’ve shopped at the King of Prussia mall three times since she returned from Chicago. We even met Traci and her mom there one day and all shopped and had lunch together. Traci helped me pick out new jeans, boots, sweaters, and hoodies for school. Mom and I actually had fun shopping together. She wasn’t serious and moody like she typically is.

“How was work?” Mom asks as she pulls away from the curb.

“Fine.”

“Hungry? I thought we could grab a bite to eat at Victor’s. Dad’s working late tonight. He’s taking clients to dinner.” Mom’s hands rest casually on the steering wheel, her nails perfectly manicured.

“Sure, sounds great. I’m starving.” I worked three to seven so I didn’t have time to eat after school and before work.

I’ve resolved to ease up on Mom. If she makes an effort, which she has lately, then I’ll make an effort too. As we drive to Victor’s Mom asks me about school, tests, and my friends. We chat openly. But when she parks the car in Victor’s parking lot her easy going attitude is lost. Turning to me, I can’t ignore the serious expression on her face. Uh-oh. Now what.

“Morgan, before we go inside to eat there’s something I want to discuss with you.” Mom rests her hand lightly on my knee. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Are Mom and Dad getting divorced? Is she sick? Did she lose her job?

“Just tell me.” I squeeze her hand encouragingly, but I’m nervous about what she’s going to say. Her words could change everything.

“When you were seven your father and I were expecting a baby boy.” Tears well in her eyes.

Stunned, I don’t know what to say. I would’ve been an older sister. I would’ve had a little brother. But what happened to the baby?

“Mom?”

Mom nods her head and takes a deep breath. “When I was four months pregnant your father rushed me to the hospital. You stayed with Grandma while I was in the hospital for several days. The doctors and nurses monitored the baby but on the third day I lost him.” Tears roll down Mom’s smooth cheeks. “We never told you about the baby. I should have told you, Morgan, but losing the baby was a tremendous loss for me. I tried for many years to get pregnant after you were born. He was my miracle baby and I knew my body wouldn’t carry another after him.”

Without hesitating, I unbuckle my seatbelt and throw my arms around her thin shoulders. Her warm tears soak into my Shop-Aide shirt. As she cries I sense her relief after finally sharing this secret she’s been harboring for a decade.

“Morgan, I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “After I lost the baby I couldn’t imagine losing you too. I pushed you away to protect myself from getting hurt again, but I missed out on the joy of having you in my life.”

Her admission leaves me speechless. Finding out I would’ve had a little brother is shocking, but even more surprising is seeing my stoic mother vulnerable and trembling before me. I don’t hate her. She should have told me sooner, but I can’t begin to understand the loss she’s suffered. Mom loves me, I know she does.

“Okay,” the words roll off my tongue.

“Okay?” Mom asks.

We still have a long way to go to repair our relationship. But I imagine Ms. Trudell telling me, “You’re heading in the right direction.”

“Okay,” I repeat with a glimmer of hope.

Mom smiles hesitantly and kisses my cheek. “I love you so much, Sweetie.”

Once we’ve dried our eyes and comforted each other, we go to dinner and enjoy a great meal despite the tears and confession in the car. We talk about college and Jack. Somehow the conversation shifts to celebrities and movies we want to see. Mom suggests we invite Jack to the movies this weekend. I haven’t been to the theater in months. Even though it’s a double date with my parents, I’m already looking forward to a night out.