Chapter 3
Three
Ava
I get back home around six, just in time to prep some dinner.
In celebration for both Elsie’s and my first day, I made our favorite, spaghetti and meatballs.
I’d even prepped the meatballs in advance to save some time.
Now that I’ll be working full time and Elsie is in school, I don’t have as much time as I’d have liked to prepare meals, but planning ahead helps.
“So how was school?” I ask as I slide the meatballs into the oven. “Tell me all about it.”
“It’s the middle of the year,” Elsie shrugs. “They’re learning division.”
“Ah,” I sigh. “So, you’re ahead again.”
She nods. “Better than being behind like at the last school.”
Changing schools has been hard on Elsie, not only because she’s struggled to make friends, but because the curriculum changes from school to school.
Last time, she’d been behind their curriculum.
This time, she’s ahead. But there have been instances where she’d been so far ahead, the school hadn’t known what to do with her. That doesn’t seem the case here.
“Did they mention testing you to see about skipping a grade?” I ask.
They’d reached out to me almost immediately, letting me know Elsie is a great candidate for the accelerated learning program.
I’d told them I’d think about it. I don’t want to put her into a program and then be forced to leave again. It’s not fair to Elsie.
She nods. “I’m okay with it, if they choose me.”
I stir the noodles in the pot on the stove, waiting for them to soften up. “And did you make any friends?”
She hesitates. “Maybe one. There’s a boy, Henry, who seems nice.”
“Good,” I smile. “You’ll make all the friends.”
She sighs and looks down at her homework. It’s division, stuff she’s already mastered. “It’s not like it matters.”
I set down my spoon. “Elsie, I told you this is it. This is where we’re staying. You shouldn’t—”
“You said that last time, too,” she mumbles, but she looks up. “It’s okay, though, Mom. Really. I know why we have to move.”
I nod, my chest tight. Escape was hard on me, especially at first with finances, but staying would have been deadly.
For Elsie, her entire world has been upheaved repeatedly, and each time we move only makes things worse.
I don’t bother making friends, but friends are important for kids.
They need that structure and social interaction.
“I promise we won’t move again, Elsie,” I tell her. “You have my word.”
She nods, and continues filling out her homework, her numbers perfect and correct.
I hate it. I hate how much Elsie has had to grow up throughout this process and before.
In that house with Ric, she’d been forced to grow.
And now, she’s being forced to grow again.
I’ll need to find ways to help her just be a child again.
She still loves tea parties. Maybe once she makes some friends, we can host one.
Tonya had been a massive help and a consistent friendly face.
Not only has she been here to pick up Elsie from school and be the auntie Elsie deserves, but she’s the reason we were able to leave in the first place.
She’d opened a bank account long before we’d left in both my name and hers, allowing me to pool money I’d made from contract marketing and freelance copywriting in preparation for our escape.
Ric had never seen it, had never known I had money stashed away.
And when he’d gone out for another meeting of his at the local strip club, I’d packed everything I could into one small bag.
Most of it had been Elsie’s things, her most important.
The only things I’d brought were important papers and pictures I couldn’t live without.
We’d started over from scratch, and we’d only been able to because of Tonya.
I’d covered our tracks. I’d used a different name.
I’ve never once used anything that has our old surname on it.
And for the first month, I didn’t even use a card.
I’d thrown away my phone and got a new burner one, replacing that one within the first month when I grew skittish.
I’d used cash for everything I could. The card I do use is set up under a business name rather than my own that’s linked to Tonya’s name first. Now, it’s been over a year, and Ric still hasn’t found us.
He hasn’t come after us from what I can tell.
Small blessings, but I don’t want to grow complacent.
Still, I want this place to be home. I need it to be. For Elsie’s sake.
“I think this place will be good,” Elsie comments as I set her plate of spaghetti in front of her. “I do like my teachers.”
“I’m glad you do, baby,” I tell her, smiling brightly. “Good teachers make everything better.”
She nods. “Someone mentioned a birthday party in a few weeks. If they invite me, can I go?”
Normally, I’d say no. But this time, I smile and nod. Birthday parties are normal, and there’s nothing saying I can’t go with her to ease my anxiety. “Of course. Now eat your spaghetti before it grows cold.”
Elsie leans forward, excited, and starts twisting her noodles, happy, bright, just as she should be.
Hope blooms in my chest.