Chapter 23 Natalie
NATALIE
Two weeks have passed since that terrible night.
My mind is in chaos but I won’t stop to sort through the thoughts.
To see again what I saw that night. I won’t think about what happened.
I won’t feel the man’s hands on me. Won’t hear the sound of a silenced gun fired.
I close my eyes against the picture of Sergio standing over the man, gun in his hand, cocked.
Aimed. Fired. Not once, but twice. With perfect precision.
Did he even notice the blood that stained his coat? His hands? The blood he smeared on me when he held me.
I shudder.
The sound is strange, the silencer not quite silent enough. One millisecond and a life is snuffed out.
I don’t feel sorry for that man or for the others who died that night.
I think about the driver who was killed because of me, and even him, I keep thinking that he chose this. He chose this life. Does that make me like them?
The image of Sergio that night, furious like I’ve never seen him, is burned into my eyelids. Cruel and lethal. So fucking lethal.
He tried to send me away. Didn’t want me to see. But I wanted to see. I wanted to know exactly. Needed to.
What I heard in his father’s house, it pales in comparison to what I witnessed that night.
“Miss.”
I blink. The man behind the counter looks annoyed. “Sorry.” I empty my basket of things I don’t need—magazines, candy, cold medicine—not to bring attention to the one thing I do. The pregnancy test.
I’m sure now. The test is extra. I’m late. My body feels different, more achy and tender. And I can’t keep food down morning, noon or night.
The clerk tells me the total as he bags my things and I pay him in cash, take my change and leave.
I don’t even say goodbye. The drug store is two blocks from my house and Ricco and another man whose name I don’t remember are following a few paces behind me.
They’re not subtle, but I manage to ignore them.
Besides, I don’t think they’re meant to be subtle.
Sergio wants anyone who may try to take me again to think twice.
He calls me each night but I don’t know where he is and he hasn’t tried to come over.
I thought he would. I can guess what he’s doing.
The damage he did the other night was only the beginning.
He’ll punish whoever was responsible. Am I supposed to feel guilty about that?
I don’t. And again, the same question comes up: what does that make me?
I told him what I could remember about the man in the suit. Told him I thought the others were set up. That the leader knew Sergio would come. Knew what he’d do. I was always meant to be rescued. Another message, a louder one than the funeral flowers left on my doorstep.
I unlock the front door, my fingers icy as I push it open. I’m wearing knitted fingerless mittens. Not a smart choice for the temperature, but I’m lucky I got shoes and a coat on before leaving the house. I haven’t brushed my hair in days. My brain is mush.
After locking the door behind me, I set everything down, give Pepper a pat and head upstairs. I don’t look at the instructions. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Pee on the stick, of which there are two in this box.
I pee on that little stick and set it on the counter. I’m looking at the image on the back of the box, the one with the two pink lines as if I need it to know what they mean. But it’s faster than I expect. It doesn’t take a full minute before they appear on the stick.
Strange, I thought this official confirmation would feel different, but it doesn’t.
I toss the test, the one I already took and the second, still wrapped one, into the trash can along with the box.
I touch the dark shadows under my eyes, take out a tube of concealer and smear it on.
Apply generous layers of mascara, too much so my lashes clump together.
Looks like spider’s legs—like the morning after a really long night.
I don’t care though. I drop the still open tube on the counter, watch it roll into the sink, and go into the bedroom.
There, I toss the things from the bag I’d packed for the weekend with Sergio into the laundry bin without looking at them, and put in two pairs of jeans, some sweaters and under things.
A pair of running shoes. I switch the TV in the bedroom on, for Ricco’s sake.
From the bathroom, I get my toothbrush. I sling the bag over my shoulder and carry it downstairs, put on my coat and boots, and, taking Pepper, I walk out through the back door.
Ricco and the other man are on the front side.
There’s no way to post a man back here unless he’s in the backyard and I refused.
I walk around to the neighbor’s yard and through the door of our shared fence. Pepper follows easily, she’s familiar.
Mrs. Robbins comes to the window of the back door before I even have a chance to knock.
“Natalie, what a nice surprise.” She’s about seventy years old and watches Pepper occasionally.
“Hi Mrs. Robbins, how are you doing?” I ask, walking inside. I’m attempting upbeat, but it sounds strange. Forced.
“I’m good, honey. Cold in this drafty house, but what else is new? You? You look tired, dear. Everything okay?”
I smile but it feels foreign. “Yeah, just school is busy. I was actually dropping by to ask if you’d mind watching Pepper over the weekend? I’m thinking of paying my parents a visit and Pepper doesn’t do well on the longer bus trips. I know it’s short notice—”
“Not at all,” she says, smiling to Pepper who’s already beside the old woman. “I’d love the company, honestly. Besides, it’ll force me to get myself out of the house and get some exercise. It takes a lot to keep all this in shape, you know.” She winks, patting her generous hip.
I smile. “Thank you so much. You have the number?”
“Sure do.” She points to the fridge where my parents’ home number and address are stuck with a magnet from the last time I went away a few months ago. “Spend as much time as you like, dear. It’s nice you still visit them.”
A pang of guilt has me shifting my gaze to Pepper.
“My boy, well, you know how boys are.” She shakes her head and I feel sorry for her. I should drop by more often. Her son has visited exactly once the whole time I’ve been next door and he lives about a ten minute car ride away.
“Thanks, Mrs. Robbins. Maybe when I’m back we can go get lunch or something.”
“I’d like that.”
I say goodbye, give Pepper a big hug and walk back out into the yard.
I take the exit opposite the one to my house which leads to the alley behind our street.
From there, I put my hood up and walk quickly away from the house, taking the long way to the bus station.
I buy a ticket to Asbury Park, where my parents live.
The bus doesn’t leave for another hour so I order a cup of tea at the café and wait. I don’t bother to call my parents because they’re not home. They always spend this part of winter with my aunt in Arizona. The house will be empty, which is what I want.
I watch the passing cars on the drive and when I get to the bus station, I take a taxi to the house.
It’s too far to walk and the drive takes twenty minutes.
My parents live right on the water, it’s a beautiful small cottage they bought a few years ago.
I pay the taxi driver and carry my bag around to the back of the house, unlock the kitchen door, walk inside.
I set my bag down and the familiar smell washes over me and it feels safe here.
It’s silent, completely still, and I don’t switch on the lights as I walk upstairs to the room I stay in when I visit.
There, I turn on the lights and close the curtains looking out onto the street.
I get sheets from the linen closet and make the bed and, after brushing my teeth, I lay down to close my eyes.
Maybe I can finally rest. Take a reprieve from what my life has become.
Because I need to figure things out.
Because I’m pregnant with Sergio Benedetti’s baby.
And as much as I love him, as much as it will hurt to walk away, how can I bring a baby into this sort of life?
I roll over onto my side, feel a tear slide over the bridge of my nose.
Am I foolish to think he’ll let me go, though? He’s the most possessive man I know. From day one, he owned me.
No, he won’t let me go. Not if he finds out.
He can’t ever learn about the baby. I can’t ever see him again.
“Mine. No matter what.”
I have to keep this secret from him because I will be more his than ever if he ever finds out about this baby.