Chapter 24 #2
Before leaving my room, I glanced around, looking from my bed with its slightly tattered but bright comforter to the bedside table that held the lamp made from a wine bottle.
Moscato, which I didn’t like, but still, I loved that lamp.
Just like I loved every generic picture, motivational saying hanging on my walls, and every framed photograph, as well as piece of furniture.
From my worn sofa – which I was positive had the perfect indentation of my ass – to the small dining room table and four mismatched chairs.
This was me. My place. And I was leaving it.
I was sniffling when I shut my front door, but I fought against the tears as I maneuvered my way down the stairs, the plant in one arm as the wheels of my suitcase banged against the steps.
I reached the bottom and went outside. Once there, I paused to pull on a mask before opening the door immediately next to mine.
I had to shove it hard so I could pull my suitcase through, but somehow, I managed.
Thanks to the order barring all indoor eating, the place wasn’t as busy as usual. There were, however, a few masked people standing around, six feet of space between them as they waited for to-go orders. They stared at me curiously as I dragged my suitcase through the restaurant.
“Going on a trip, Ara?” a man I didn’t recognize thanks to the mask asked in a light tone.
“Something like that,” I muttered and kept walking.
I was focused on Stormy, who was one of the few people who knew I was in the program. She was filling a DORA cup from the tap, a mask over her nose and mouth, and her eyes on me as the foam got dangerously close to the rim.
“A salad?” she asked when I stopped in front of her. Somehow, she managed to turn off the tap a split second before the beer spilled over, but I had no idea how since she was staring at my suitcase. “To go?”
“Yeah,” I said in a husky voice that sounded nothing like me.
Her head bobbed as she served the beer to a man I didn’t know, and even though her mouth was covered, I could tell she was frowning. “I’ll put it in.”
“Thanks.”
Not wanting to stand in the middle of the room like a moron, I dragged my suitcase to the side – as far away from the other patrons as I could – and set the peace lily on a nearby table.
I stared at it, not wanting to look around and see the curious glances of the other patrons because I was sure if I met any of their gazes, I would burst into tears.
I’d wanted to say goodbye to Stormy, but it wasn’t until I’d stepped into the building that I realized I shouldn’t even be here, which was the only reason I’d said yes to the salad since I had no appetite.
All of this was confidential. I’d signed an NDA.
Which meant that even hinting that I was going away for an indeterminate amount of time might put me in breach of contract.
As bad as things were, I wasn’t stupid. They could get a lot worse.
Thinking about it, I began to sweat. Hilary had said I would face consequences if I didn’t cooperate, which had me wondering if where we were going wasn’t one of the government hospitals.
Possibly, they’d found somewhere else to send us.
Somewhere nicer. Maybe if I didn’t do what I was told, I would be sent to one of those other facilities and locked away for good.
I couldn’t let that happen. I shouldn’t be here. I had to go.
I’d just made up my mind to leave when Stormy stopped at my side.
“I’m not going to ask any questions,” she began, her voice low and her eyes darting around as if to make sure no one was listening, “I know you can’t tell me anything, and even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you. The stakes are too high.”
She acted like she knew what I was going through, but I couldn’t ask how.
Maybe she’d known someone else who’d been in the program who’d spilled the beans?
It was rare, but possible. And dangerous, which would explain why she wouldn’t ask questions or expect me to give her any information.
Like she’d said, the stakes were too high.
“I do want to say, though,” she went on, “that you’ll be missed.”
She took my hand, giving it a squeeze. No one was paying attention to us, but the connection still had my heart beating so hard I felt certain everyone in the building would be able to hear the steady thump, thump, thump.
“Be safe,” Stormy whispered, “and make it back.”
Like the fingers of death were running down my spine, goose bumps popped up on my arms. Was she warning me about something? It felt like it. Felt like there was a lot more she would have said had she been allowed. But she wasn’t. I wasn’t. None of us were allowed to say the things we were thinking.
Somehow, I didn’t even understand how, I managed to get out, “I will.”
Stormy gave my hand another squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll check on your salad.”
She had tears in her eyes when she walked away.
Someone from the kitchen delivered my food, and even though I didn’t know Stormy all that well, I got the sense she was too emotional to see me again. Feeling nostalgic and grateful for her understanding, I grabbed a napkin and fished a pen from my purse, then wrote a quick note to her.
Stormy –
Thanks for understanding and for all the times I’ve been in when you’ve listened to me bitch and laughed at my stupid stories and just been great. I don’t know if you like plants but thought you might be able to take care of this peace lily for me. Thanks for everything.
Ara
PS…If not, Trevor can take it.
I scribbled the last line as an afterthought.
Leaving the note and the plant on the table, I grabbed my salad and suitcase and headed for the door.
A few people watched me go, a couple muttering things that made me think they knew what was happening, their tones sympathetic but their mumbled words unintelligible behind their masks.
If they did understand what was going on and thought it was wrong, if they were angry about it, why didn’t they speak up?
Why did they look the other way while women were being hijacked by the government?
They shouldn’t, which made it easy to convince myself they were ignorant.
Ignorance wasn’t great, but it was better than apathy or, worse, hypocrisy. Those were things I couldn’t forgive.
I refused to think about all the years I’d done nothing when I could have been out protesting and possibly making a difference. My mood was bad enough without concentrating on that.