Finding Alana (11 page)

Morning arrives far too early. I finished off the bottle of wine by myself before I went to sleep. My head is making me pay for it this morning. I’ve called in again. I’m pretty sure I can kiss any chance of a promotion goodbye. Fact is, after this, I may need to find a new job.

Justin, on the other hand, has decided to go handle some work projects for a couple of hours. He’s waiting for Cam and Kate to come home and settled. She’s going to need more than a few days of rest to recover from all of the broken ribs and bruises.

All I can think about as I make us some breakfast is how I can make it up to the people I love. This hell I’ve unleashed on them being here has to be handled. Justin wants to help, but the only thing I can think about is resolving this myself. If I’m the one Kent wants, I’m the one he’ll get. We’ll put this decade of hell to an end; and soon.

We have a nice morning. I make phone calls on behalf of Kate to the homeowner’s insurance to have them send a claims adjuster out. Then I call the police department for an official report number to give the claims adjuster.

Cameron brings Kate home early in the afternoon. We all get her settled into Cameron’s room. She’ll need an exorcism if she survives living in that room for a few days. Justin and I take turns ribbing him about his housekeeping skills (or lack thereof).

Justin dresses in his uniform, and pulls me into his room for a chat before he leaves.

“Please, for the love of God, don’t do anything silly today. I’m going to be back in a couple hours. Cameron is perfectly capable of watching out for you two.”

I smile and cut my eyes. “Exactly what do you mean by ‘silly’?’

He’s using his serious face again. “You know what I mean. You can’t fix this. Stay here and let the police do their job.”

“You sure think you know a lot, don’t you. I’ll be here with Kate. No worries. Go save the technological world and come home to me,” I say calmly, betraying my true feelings. I don’t want to tip him off. The less Justin knows the better.

He leans down, placing his nose to mine and staring into my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt your calm exterior. Promise me you won’t get into any trouble.”

I promise. And he kisses me.

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It doesn’t take long for Cameron to crawl into the bed with Kate. They are drained from the whole experience. I know the kind of sleep they need. It’s deep and cleansing. Something about washing the hospital off your skin, and settling into “home.”

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I search through Justin’s room and find the lockbox under his bed. This is where I saw him put the gun last night. I don’t have any training, but I’m certain it’s self-explanatory. Point it at something or someone and pull the trigger, right? It’s not rocket science.

I pull the gun from the lockbox, which isn’t locked. It’s heavier in my hands than I thought it would be. I feel awkward trying to figure out how to hold it. Eventually, the gun rests comfortably in the palm of my right hand. I remember a friend once told me that, when I’m handling a gun, my left hand is used to steady it.

So I test this configuration of hands on the gun.
Seems legit.
I hold the gun and move around noticing how it feels to look down the top of it, pointing it at an action figure on the top of Justin’s computer desk.

Satisfied I can hold it confidently, I dig for my purse, and slide it inside. I change into jeans, a T-shirt, and a ball cap borrowed from Justin’s extensive collection. The irony of it being a police union hat isn’t lost on me. I decide not to leave a note. I don’t want any of the people I care about to come after me. They’re already in too deep.

Packing the rest of my things into my rolling suitcase and makeup bag, I quietly tiptoe to the front door. I gently close the door behind me as to not wake Cam and Kate. My getaway is efficient. Right before I merge onto the interstate, my cell phone starts ringing. I feel around in my purse to find my phone and pull it out to see who’s calling. It’s Irma.
Oh God.

“Hello?”

“Don’t do it, baby. Stop. Turn around and go home.” She demands urgently.

“What are you talking about, Mrs. Irma?” I play stupid.

She huffs before answering my question. “I’ve done seen it. Ya don’t want to do this. This is somethin’ ya can’t live with. It’s going ta hurt ya as much as ya want to hurt him. Please, baby, don’t.”

I sniffle. “I have to.” My answer is just barely a whisper, and the tears are blurring my eyes. I slow the car down, and pull off into the emergency lane to finish our conversation.

“No. Ya don’t have ta do anythin’. You are sinkin’ to his level. Ya was born to rise. Quit lettin’ him win!”

“It’s the only way I’ll ever be free. Then I have to think about Ethan. I haven’t been a mother to him at all. He deserves better.”

“Aw, baby. We can solve this together. There’s hope.”

“I love you Mrs. Irma. I hope this isn’t the last time we talk, but I have to do this. Please understand.” I disconnect the call and try to regain my resolve.

Her words are an echo in my mind. I want to do as she says, but she’s never been in this situation. She’s never lived as someone she’s not in order to survive a man who promised to love her. She’s never had to start over only to have him ruin her life again. Irma thinks she knows what’s best for me, but she hasn’t been hunted by Kent. I can’t live in fear anymore, and I won’t. There’s only one way to insure that: my freedom.



I drive an hour before my cell rings again. This time I don’t answer. I know who’s calling. He’s had plenty of time to come home and find me gone. I’m still a good ways away from the trailer Kent and I shared. I’m not even sure he lives out this far anymore, but it’s a place to start looking for him.

The remainder of the drive happens on autopilot. My mind knows where I’m going, so I start to daydream the scenario of what will happen when I’m face-to-face with Kent. I imagine him sniffling and begging at the end of my gun barrel. He’s a little punk who’s all big and bad when he’s the one in control, but turns to a weak mess when someone else takes the upper hand.

The damn cell phone never stops ringing. After Justin makes several attempts, there are calls from Cameron, Kate, and Irma. It’s almost like a rotation as they each try multiple times. I don’t want to turn my phone off, so I switch it to a mode that stops the ringing and vibration. This way if I need it when I confront Kent, I’ll have it available.

A little over an hour later, I reach the trailer and turn onto the gravel driveway. The first thing I notice is our old mailbox is disheveled and falling over. The second thing I notice is how the trees and bushes around the driveway obscure my view of the trailer. I shake my head at how he’s let the place run into the ground.

Still, as I think about the inside of that trailer and the last time I was here, panic rises in my mind. This is the home I shared with Kent and Ethan. This is where I lost my life and fought to survive so I could live. Everything looks the same, except a little more worn down.

As I pull up closer to the house, I take note of the surroundings. There’s a car in the space next to the porch steps that lead up to the trailer. I’m not sure what I’ll find, so as soon as I stop the car, I have my hand on the gun. Pulling the gun into my lap, and position my grip on the handle.
Ready to go
. Still, I keep looking around me to see if there are any signs he might be here. Letting Kent sneak up on me would be one of the worst ideas ever.

Speaking of worst ideas, why am I doing this? My resolve shakes. I start thinking about why I’m here and what’s at stake. I have to do this.

My knees are wobbly as I force myself to get out of the car. As I close the door, I lean against the car to steady myself. For a few seconds, all I do is breathe in the fresh air around me. Cautiously, I walk up the steps. The front door is unlocked and standing open just a little bit. I try to peer in through the small opening to gauge what it is I’m walking into. All I can see is that the place has been destroyed. The smell of bad food wafts out, so bad it makes my eyes water.
Something has died in there
.

As that possibility begins to sink in, a streak of fear pierces my chest. I calm myself by thinking it could be an animal since the door is open. Using the gun to lead the way, as I saw Justin do when we went to his house the other night, I open the door and tip-toe inside.

It’s quiet. The bookshelf Kent threw me into five years ago is still in a pile in the corner of the room. Part of the death smell must be the blood he never cleaned. I walk through each room more comfortably as the look of things convinces me he doesn’t live here anymore. He hasn’t lived here in a long time.

The toys and clothes in Ethan’s room are gone. He took some pieces of furniture including the beds and random pieces like tables and a dresser. A lot of the older, more damaged things were left behind. The death smell seems strongest in the master bedroom. I slide the closet door all the way open to see I was right. It was an animal.

A raccoon is curled up in the floor of the closet and is well into the decomposition phase. I shake it off and step out on to the back porch. There’s no evidence that anyone one has been out here either. Patio table and chairs are older, but intact. Some of Ethan’s outside toys, like his sand box, is still here.

The adrenaline that has carried me this far is started to ebb. I’m coming down from the adrenaline high, and it settles heavily on my shoulders. I sit in a rickety old patio chair to absorb the openness of the land and woods surrounding the trailer. I’m cautious as I lay the gun in my lap and sink deeper into the chair. I focus on steadying my breathing to try and relax. Being alone out here is what I need to gain some perspective. I dwell on the things Irma said to me and how Justin begged me not do anything about Kent.

Just let the police handle it, right? They didn’t handle it before. Some of that I have to own. It was my unwillingness to trust the police five years ago that allowed Kent to keep walking this planet where he ended up hurting someone I care about.

My mind circles in the same patterns that have existed since this all began. When I finally realize I have to stop putting myself in this vicious cycle where I accept all the blame for everything, the sun is setting. I think it’s symbolic of the peace I’ve reached within myself. The sky paints the blues with oranges and tones of peach as the sun begins to lower. As the peach tones give way to the purples I adore about a southern sky, the temperatures drop and I begin to shiver. I stand to leave, and when I turn toward the door, I freeze. There he is—exactly as I remembered him.

Kent is standing on the threshold of the patio door, staring at me. He doesn’t speak but rakes me in with his gaze. The cold metal of the gun forces me to remember it’s still in my hand. Without a word, Kent’s lips turn up at the corners, a disturbing smile, and he steps toward me. My brain says run, but my body does the opposite. I take a stand, lifting the gun so it’s pointed at him. “Stop!” I cry out.

He freezes and holds his hands up innocently. “Baby! Put the gun down. There’s no need for that.” His voice is cool and cajoling.

“Take one more step, and I will kill you,” my voice shakes as I issue the warning.

He attempts to cover his fury by molding his face into some semblance of calm. “You don’t want to kill me. We’re in love. Don’t you remember?”

My heartbeat pounds in my ears when he says it. Like I’m some dumb child that’ll fall for his charismatic salesmanship again. “What I remember, Kent, is the night you tried to kill me. Did you forget?”

“Sugarpie, I didn’t try to kill you. I was drunk. It was an accident. The gun accidentally went off. I love you more than life itself. I wouldn’t ever do something like that.” his tone is cajoling.

“Don’t ‘sugarpie’ me, you son of a bitch! I know what happened.”

Kent is pacing side to side, not making any more advances toward me.

“Where’s my son?” I ask through gritted teeth. I don’t want to say my sweet boy’s name to him.

He stops pacing and looks at me with the meanest glare I’ve ever seen. “He’s our son, and you gave up your rights to him when you left me.”

“Left you? Do you hear yourself? You beat me half to death our entire relationship and then you shot me. I know I ran away. I was terrified then, but I’m not anymore. Where is
my
son!” I can feel the flush on my face. I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been as I directly confront him. Who I used to be wouldn’t have ever been so brave. I know it’s pissing him off that I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.

“All in good time. First, we have to move you back home, and let our families know you’ve come back to me.”

              I’m stunned. He thinks I’m coming back to him or that he can scare me into coming back to him. I laugh. Emboldened, I ask, “So you move to Memphis temporarily, and then what? Stalk women until you find me?”

              It’s his turn to laugh, “No. I had almost given up on finding you when I moved up there. When I hired into my new sales job, I made friends with your friend Kate. She’s super-hot, by the way. I was waiting at her desk for her to come back from a meeting one day and noticed the picture on her desk. It was you. You’d finally lost some weight, and you’d colored your hair, which I hate, but it was you.”