Chapter 25
ALIX
“ E xcuse me, what’s the date?”
The teenage gas station cashier looks at me and his expression goes from bored to shocked in the span of a second. His mouth falls open, gaping at me.
“What’s the date?” I repeat.
“Uhhh, it’s June 10th.”
“And the year? Ugh, never mind, just hand me one of those magazines.”
He grabs a magazine from the rack beside him at random and shoves it at me, never taking his eyes off me. I take it eagerly and flip it over, then let out a sigh of relief. Okay thank God—it really has been only just under a month. I know that’s how long it felt like I was gone, but I’ve read enough fairytales that I was worried enough to double check.
“Can I use your phone?” I ask.
The cashier doesn’t even bother arguing with me or asking where my cell is. Probably because I’m dressed like a renaissance fair escapee and asking what year it is. I’m giving crazy vibes, and it’s always best not to argue with crazy.
The kid hands me the phone and I quickly dial.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Uh, hi. My name is Alixandrea Knight. I think I might be missing.”
Understandably, the police have a lot of questions. Where have I been? Am I aware of how worried my family is? Why am I dressed like a theme park princess?
Fighting my tendency to bow to authority, I refuse to answer even a single question. I remind them that I’m an adult and completely free to go off the grid if I want to. As long as I’m not under arrest, there’s no reason to talk to them…but also would they please call my mom?
The police officer calls my mother—the only number I can remember off the top of my head from years of childhood conditioning, and I wait. Six hours later, I’m sitting in the rundown local police station, drinking a cup of bitter coffee and bouncing my leg against my chair.
“Get out of my way!” a familiar voice barks from somewhere down the hallway.
“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” rumbles one of the officers.
“The next person who tells me to calm down is getting punched in the nose.”
Huh. I guess that’s where I get it from.
I get to my feet. “Mom?”
Dressed in a navy blue pantsuit and a perfectly quaffed French twist, my mother storms down the dingy, fluorescent- lit hallway, past the police officers, clearly trying to contain her, and barges into the office where I’ve been waiting. She doesn’t wait for me to say anything; she just launches herself across the room and envelops me in a hug. I feel every muscle in my body relax.
After a long second, she pulls back and brushes a single tear from one eye before fixing me with an angry stare. “You better have a good excuse for this.”
“Excuse me?” I splutter. “That’s the first thing you want to say?”
“I thought you were dead. We all thought you’d been kidnapped by some deranged lunatic. Ryan is beside himself, did you call him yet?”
“Uh…no, not yet, but I do have a good excuse.”
She finally looks at me and spots my dress. She gasps. “Oh my God, it’s a cult. You got taken by one of those exercise sex cults! Please tell me you did not become someone’s eighth wife, Alixandrea.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “Let’s just go home, Mom. We can talk in the car.”
“I hope you know I am not prepared to listen to any nonsense about worshiping aliens or secret bunkers.”
“Yup, sure, I got it.”
The portal dropped me somewhere near the border to New York and it takes several hours for my mom to drive us back to her house in Philly. She seems to take it as a given that her house is where I want to go, and I almost argue with her until she mentions that Nana is still staying with her.
“Of course we didn’t have time to find her a retirement home after we realized you’d gone missing.”
My heart skips an excited beat. I’ve been dying to talk to Nana since the moment I arrived in Ellender, so at least that’s something to look forward to. A very small something by comparison to everything else I’m feeling.
Just like when I arrived in Ellender, being back doesn’t feel quite real. I’m caught somewhere between shock and devastation.
It feels like when you accidentally stub your toe or slam your thumb in the car door and there’s a tiny fraction of a second when you don’t feel it yet but you know the pain is coming. I’m stuck in that fraction of a moment, when I’ve been hit but the pain hasn’t struck yet, and I know that no matter how I brace myself and wish it wouldn’t hurt, it will. And the pain will be a thousand times worse for having been delayed.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened or leave me in suspense?”
“It wasn’t a cult,” I grumble.
“That’s hardly helpful, Alixandrea. Now I’m imagining the worst possible scenarios. You weren’t grabbed by one of those prostitution rings, were you?”
I look sideways at her, furrowing my brow with annoyance. “If I was, does it occur to you that maybe I wouldn’t want to be put on trial about it within hours of escaping?”
She blinks at me, the nuance of victimology obviously lost on her. “So, you were taken?”
I sigh and put my head in my hands. Jesus fucking Christ.
Even though I had hours in the police station to think about it, I hadn’t decided if I would tell my mom the truth. Five minutes in the car with her, though, and I know for sure that I can’t tell her. She won’t believe me, and she’ll probably drive me straight to the nearest hospital for a brain scan. Yeah, no thanks.
“I caught Ryan cheating on me with my best friend,” I say, my face still covered by my palms. “I had no idea it was going on, but in retrospect, I realize that definitely wasn’t the first time. So I kind of lost it, okay? I just needed to get away for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t call and that you worried, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I brace myself for an onslaught of judgment or maybe a lecture about how marriage is supposed to be forever and I need to be more forgiving. Instead, she lets out a harsh breath. “Shit.”
I glance up, startled. My mother doesn’t swear, so even that small exclamation is noteworthy coming from her. “What?”
She takes one hand off the wheel and runs it over her face without even bothering to care that she’s smudging her makeup. “Ryan is at the house.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you were missing! And he’s your husband, it just seemed to make sense to have everyone together in case we got news.” She reaches into the center console and fishes around for her phone. “Look, it’s no problem. I’ll handle it. Let me call Kevin now, and maybe?—”
I reach out and put a hand on her arm, stopping her from dialing my stepfather’s number while she’s driving and inevitably veering into oncoming traffic. “Mom, stop. It’s okay.”
She blinks at me. “Oh, Alixandrea. Are you sure?”
I’m strangely touched by this very out of character show of support—even if it is coming at the eleventh hour. “Yes. I have a lot to say to Ryan. I might as well get it over with.”
When we step into the house, there’s an immediate flurry of activity.
Everyone must know that I was found because they don’t seem surprised that I’m back, but there’s still an explosion of noise. I turn my head, slightly overwhelmed. My husband is here along with mom’s husband Kevin. My gaze darts over Ryan for one uncomfortable second, and then finally I find whom I’m searching for.
Nana is sitting on the couch in the living room, but jumps up just like everyone else when I walk in. She’s dressed simply in a blue sweater and slacks with her long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. My light eyes lock on her dark ones. Her gaze darts pointedly down at my dress and the corner of her mouth ticks up in a half smile and in a split second I know that she knows exactly where I’ve been.
“Baby, oh my God!” Ryan yells, pulling my attention away from Nana as he strides purposefully toward me.
My stomach churns, and I step back, putting obvious space between us. Ryan stops short, several feet from me. In that second, I feel a palpable shift in the room, as my family immediately turn from relieved to suspicious.
“Ryan, what are you doing here?” I ask, calmly.
He blinks at me, confused. “I—Well, you were gone. I was worried about you, what happened?”
I suck in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second.
In my mind's eye, I can see a version of how this conversation could go. It’s the way it would have gone if I’d stayed to fight that day I walked in on him and Jenna.
I’ll demand an explanation and he won’t have one. He’ll tell me that the problems in our marriage are because I don’t give him enough attention and because he’s sick of pulling all the weight. I’ll point out that I do everything around the house even before losing my job, and he’ll throw the job issue back in my face. I’ll end up screaming, trying to get him to care at all about how he’s hurting me, and he’ll just fixate on my shortcomings. Eventually I’ll lose track of what the argument is about and walk away, and that’s how he’ll avoid ever having to explain his cheating or take accountability for anything. Later, I’ll feel guilty for losing my temper and end up being the one to apologize.
I’ve played this cycle out so many times with various different fights, it’s like a play where I know my lines and choreography by heart.
Or, this time, it doesn’t have to be like that.
It doesn’t have to be a fight or a back and forth about what he did. I don’t have to keep begging for a shred of attention, or wasting my energy on someone who can’t and won’t reciprocate. I can just say my piece and leave. “Do you want to step outside with me for a moment?”
Ryan looks even more confused, but he follows me outside. Behind me, I can see my mom wringing her hands—probably worried that we’re about to embarrass her in front of her neighbors by fighting in the lawn. But miraculously she doesn’t say anything.
We step outside onto the front walk and for a moment I just look up at the sky, enjoying the midafternoon sun.
Ryan tries to step toward me again, arms outstretched. “Alix?—”
Once again, a wave of nausea passes over me. I put a hand up to stop him “Don’t touch me. I don’t feel well.”
He furrows his brow, but stops in his tracks. His gaze rakes over me. “What are you wearing?”
I glance at my dress. “Don’t worry about it.”
His eyes narrow. “Well, what the fuck, Alix? Where have you been?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you here. You should go home.”
“C’mon, baby, don’t be like that. I came all this way because I was worried about you. When we talked on the phone…”
“You mean when I told you I wanted a divorce and you tried to trap me into financial abuse?”
He grins nervously. “I don’t remember it like that.”
“Oh? How do you remember me reacting to you cheating on me with my best friend?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. “Alix, look. It was a mistake, okay? But what you did is so much worse. Everyone thought you were dead. Do you realize how fucked up and manipulative that is? If you wanted attention, you didn’t have to go this far to get it.”
I close my eyes again. “I’m not going to fight with you. It’s over. I told you I wanted a divorce and I left. I don’t have to justify my time to you anymore, and you being here right now is not okay.”
“Is this about another guy?”
I can’t help but bark a laugh. The hypocrisy is staggering. “No, it’s not. It’s about me. I’m unhappy and I’m not willing to settle for ‘ just okay ’ anymore. I want to be with someone who supports my dreams and isn’t annoyed by the things I like, and who doesn’t feel burdened by being my partner.”
“Oh, so it’s all my fault now? You were this perfect little wife and I’m the bad guy?”
I shake my head. “I definitely wasn’t perfect, but I’m sick of being the only one who ever worries about how my behavior affects the people around me. I’m sick of constantly apologizing and never getting any respect back.”
“You want me to say I’m sorry? Fine, I’m sorry you’re so unhappy and that you don’t seem to want to even try to work on it.”
I step back. “Okay, I’m really done here now. I deserve to be happy, and as much as it kills me to say so because I have totally fantasized about cutting your fucking arms off, you deserve to be happy too.”
He reels back. “My arms? What? That’s fucking sick Alix, you’re?—”
I turn around and walk the two steps back up to the door, before glancing over my shoulder at him. “Oh, and can you give my best to Jenna please? Tell her I wish you both all the happiness you deserve.”
“We’re not…” He frowns and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “We’re not together anymore. It didn’t work out.”
I laugh for real this time. “I guess she realized we’re both too good for you. Have a nice life, Ryan.”
With that, I walk inside the house and close the door behind me with a snap. I turn to lean against it and find my entire family still standing in the living room almost exactly where I left them.
“Um, Ryan had to go,” I mutter.
“Are you okay?” my mother asks.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. A huge lump bubbles up in my throat, and I try to swallow it, unfamiliar with the feeling.
Am I okay? No, I am not fucking okay, but it has nothing to do with Ryan or Jenna. When I realized my marriage was over, I was angry, but not about losing my husband. It was never about him; it was me. I was mourning for the loss of my life and the plans I’d made.
Now, I don’t feel like that. There’s an acute sense of loss, of emptiness in my chest. Like something—or, someone—is missing.
My eyes and nose burn, and there’s a ringing in my ears.
And suddenly it all hits me. Everything is over and worst of all I’ll never see Daemon again.
I look at Nana, silently begging for help—with what, I’m not even sure. She pushes past my mom to reach me. Without a word, she throws her arms around me and doesn’t let go.
And finally, for the first time in twenty years, I sob.