Once home, I hauled my suitcase up the stairs and unpacked my makeup bag. Quickly, I freshened up in the bathroom and bolted down the stairs, finding my mom in the family room. She had her feet up on the coffee table and was flipping through a magazine.
“I’m going out for a walk,” I informed.
“It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Mom.” I took a deep breath and headed toward the French door.
With my hand on the brass handle, she uttered, “Why don’t you wait until the morning?”
“Because it’s been three weeks.”
“I don’t expect you to start talking to me now, Chloe, but what you did to him was inexcusable and don’t think for a moment that I have enjoyed the imposition that you have placed on our entire family.”
“You’re right, Mom. I’m not going to talk to you.” I shut the door behind me and ran into the woods. The light from the Callahan’s back porch lit the path, and I started to feel giddy, imagining our reunion. It was going to be like at the end of a movie or a book. He’d see me and start running in my direction, and all would be forgiven. He wouldn’t ask any questions; he would just hold me tightly.
As I walked along the path, I spied the tree house in the boughs of the old oak, but as I neared his house, I heard voices. I stopped at the edge of the woods and peered around the tree, recognizing the faces of each person sitting on the patio. Tom was next to Rob at the table. Jessica was standing next to her prom date. And then I saw Kendra. I heard her distinctive laugh, and I felt like she was laughing at me. Stupid Chloe, I could almost hear her say, but I turned away before I saw or heard anything else. I felt sick all over, and I bolted through the woods and down to the river, finding a seat on the fallen log. It was where he had given me the ring, and now I twisted the ring with my thumb as the chills ran down my arms and legs. My face dropped into the palms of my hands, and I cried.
After a few minutes, I cut back through the woods and edged up to my house. Looking in the window, I found my mother in her room. She was leaning against a pile of pillows and reading. Then I crossed my backyard and entered the family room as quietly as possible. I didn’t want to talk to her, to anyone, since I completely regretted my decision to come home.
I headed up the stairs, never turning on the lights and collapsed onto my bed. “I hate my life,” I murmured into my pillow, and for the first time ever, I contemplated ending it, mostly because I had the words to a letter floating in my head.
-31-
Routines
The morning sun shone brightly through the blinds in my bedroom. I rolled out of bed, gathered my hair into a pony tail, and grabbed a running outfit from my suitcase. I put on a sky blue pair of shorts and white tank, which I had worn countless times while in Kentucky.
I stepped into the garage, noticed my brother’s missing bike, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Then I bolted down the driveway without saying a word to my mother. She was gardening, which was her typical Saturday morning routine, and I was about to do mine.
I jogged to the front of the neighborhood, and Clyde leaned out of the gatehouse. “Welcome home, Miss Preston. We sure missed you.” I wanted to say, Yeah, you’re the only one, but instead I issued a standard thanks and crossed the street. I entered the trail, which was less popular in the scorching hot summer months, and joined the other die-hards who were maintaining their strict training regimens.
I had decided to train for a marathon, and after running every day for the last few weeks, I was running a 10K at a sub-seven mile pace. As I ran the familiar course, I kept peering at my GPS watch, noting my time with a certain satisfaction. I concentrated on my breathing, and as I reached the best part of the course, the canopied trees, I pushed myself, dropping into the mid-sixes. I could feel the burn on the top of my thighs as I neared the loop, the coveted halfway mark. I glanced at my watch again and calculated my finish time, hoping I could maintain the pace on the second half of the course.
But when I glanced up at the course in front of me, I saw someone sitting alone on the park bench. My heart lurched as he stood up and grinned. It was him. He had on a sleeveless Riverside Football T-shirt and a pair of bright orange running shoes.
I froze for a moment, and then pivoted around, bolting at top speed down the course. I didn’t look back. I knew the course would come out of the woods again and run alongside the road. My heart pounded in my chest, and my throat tightened. With the adrenaline rushing through me, I sprinted along the trail, pumping my arms and keeping my eyes on the road ahead of me. I heard the words of my coach: “Keep your eyes on the finish line, and never ever look back!”
But just like in a race, where I could always feel a runner gaining on me, I could sense him getting closer and closer. I could hear the distinctive rhythm of his run—his slapping footsteps and his short pants—growing louder and louder as he sidled up next to me.
“I caught you,” he teased.
But I can outrun you! I answered in my head and pumped my arms. And together, we whipped around corners, keeping pace like old running chums. But I knew the road ahead; I knew the constant curves would come to an end as the path emerged from the woods and ran parallel to the main road again. I concentrated on the trail ahead of me, and as we veered around the last turn, the road straightened into an open stretch, a beautiful sight at the end of any race, yet disheartening now since the course was completely open, completely empty, and not another person shared the trail with us.
Then he grabbed my upper arm and flung me toward the side of the trail, where the grassy easement rolled toward the trees. I scampered forward on all fours, but he tackled me from behind, his arms around my waist. I kicked my legs frantically, but he pressed down on top of me, flattening me to the ground. He crooned in my ear, “Yeah, you like it rough. Don’t you, baby?”
I screamed, but he covered my mouth quickly with his sweaty palm.
“Shush,” he hissed in my ear. It was hard to breathe. Tears spilled from my eyes as that night flashed in my head. Even though I didn’t have concrete memories from the whole night, I had those vivid speculations that had manifested into a painful reality.
He kept his hand on my mouth, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing out more tears.
“Ooh,” he moaned. “You want it bad.” His tongue encircled my ear, and all I did was cry. I didn’t fight back even though I could this time; instead, I lay there like I was dead because so much of me was already gone.
His hand left my mouth, and I gasped for air. He lifted me off the ground, cradling me in his arms. He started walking, and I watched the woods advance toward me. A feeling crept up in me, a will to fight, and I screamed—this time much louder than the first.
He admonished me in a low, gravelly voice, “You shouldn’t have done that!” He pressed me tightly against his chest and proceeded quickly down the grassy easement and toward the trees. I kept screaming and started wriggling my way out of his arms.
“Wait!” my brother yelled. “Stop! Wait! Chloe, is that you?”
Austin turned slowly but was quick with an explanation. “Hey man. Your sister fell, and I was just helping her up.” He kept me in his arms while my brother and Mr. Dixon advanced toward us, leaving the rest of the riders on the side of the road.
Being a detective, Mr. Dixon took the inquisitive role. “Chloe, is that what really happened?”
I said nothing, keeping my eyes on the ground, since I knew very well who else was there. I didn’t have to look up to see him; I could just feel his eyes on me.
Mr. Dixon continued his investigation. “Why were you screaming?”
Austin spoke on my behalf. “Aw, she was just screaming for help. She twisted her ankle real bad, and I was gonna’ carry her all the way home.”
My brother tossed a skeptical glance. “Through the woods?”
“Yeah, I guess I forgot where you lived.”
My brother rested his bike in the grass. “Just put her dow
n.”
Austin lowered me to the ground, and I walked over to my brother’s side. “Aw, look, you’re all better now. It must have been all those kisses I gave you.”
“Hey! Don’t go near my sister again!”
Austin stepped toward my brother. “Don’t talk to me that way, Preston, or I’ll make practices a living hell for you.”
Mr. Dixon intervened, “I need to speak with you. Alone.”
“About?”
“About what just happened?”
“I already told you what happened,” Austin returned nonchalantly.
“But I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Austin started walking away. I lifted my eyes slightly, watching the bright orange shoes head up to the trail, and then they paused in front of a yellow bike. “What? After all these years, you don’t have anything to say to me, Callahan? Well, maybe you shouldn’t have let her out of your sight.” Austin’s voice paused, and then with a low snicker, he added, “Again.”
A yellow bike fell to the road, but before anything else happened, I just turned and sprinted toward my house. I don’t remember much about the run home, but when I reached my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and climbed into bed fully dressed. I cried continuously. The tears soaked my pillow, and my sweaty body stuck to the sheets, but I didn’t really care. My brother had been there, and soon my father and mother would find out too.
****