FICTION | THE AUTHENTIC ECLECTIC

Her Taste of Freedom On the Road to Redemption

When it’s time, it’s time

She was out of breath.

As a runner, this was unexpected. She had done her daily morning ten miles with hardly a blip on the radar. But, here she was. Her lungs were tight and she couldn’t grab enough air to sustain her.

She was losing time and she knew it.

The more she stood there, feverishly eyeballing the room, the less time she would have to get the job done.

Her heart was beating too fast. Sweat formed and her eyeballs bulged from the internal pressure. She had a lot to do and any inertia would ruin everything.

She forced air into her lungs, stretched her arms up, and rolled her shoulders back a couple of times as if she was prepping for a marathon.

It was time.

She already knew the layout of the house. It had been her home for years. With every step, a memory would come flooding in. This is the counter where one of her babies lost their first tooth by accident. The blood wasn’t pretty and the screams were worse.

This kitchen had stories to tell. It was the hub of activity and the levity that came with it was plentiful. Little flashes of past holiday dinners, bustling with activity, and a random ring or two of the front doorbell were all the norm.

Friends were welcomed, always.

There were frequent mixtures of aromas from baked desserts to surprise dishes of delicacies from the local fishery. One of the family dogs would announce their arrival with the clicking of their nails on the tile floors when they heard the pantry open.

These memories get to stay with her forever and she is comforted by that thought. She envisioned the card games, the kids with their buddies in tow, tears of happiness and sorrow, and had quick glimpses of too many firsts to categorize right now.

She needed to get moving.

It wasn’t as difficult as she anticipated, returning like this. Now the house felt like a shell of what it once was and that confirmation gave her the balance needed to forge ahead with her plan.

The house was dark and had an eerie echo. There was no warmth in these walls any longer. There were no people left to make it a home. A wave of sadness for what once was is quickly replaced with what will be.

Her new start?

Her new start.

She needed what she came for and bypasses the sentimental enticements. Oh, her car has enough room to hold more than a few boxes of china, crystal, and silver that were amassed during the 20 years they had been a family. But, they are not her goal. What she was looking for has even more meaning.

There isn’t much time left. He will be back for lunch.

A quick glance at her watch and she entered ‘The Shrine.’ She silently named it this years ago. It was his office space. He loved it there and spent hours perched in his façade of a kingdom. He held this room in such high regard that she rarely entered unless she was beckoned. Even then, her confidence was limited to being a strong and accomplished professional, who was respected and even adored.

But here, in this room, her self-assuredness would crack.

Just like the sound as his fist landed on her jaw for whatever justification that day held. His stronghold over her, keeping her on the rollercoaster ride from hell, used to be unbreakable.

Until now.

The loving words would quickly follow. On his best day, he could feign convincing tears. She gently, without thought, caressed her neck as if the pain of his grip still burned. The throbbing was somewhat fresh in her mind. She can do this.

Today is her day. Focus.

It was suffocating in there and she fought her brain to stop playing the ‘What if?” game.

She quickly passed the family portraits of their practiced smiles, mingled with trinkets from his past, on the shelves. The filing cabinets were locked of course. She assumed as much when she was planning this impromptu takeover, but she knows how he thinks.

She violated all of his sacred hiding spaces with stealth and careful fingers. Nothing can be askew.

No time. No time. No time.

Where is it?

He’s not one to hide things in plain sight. He is, however, one that would be proud of his creativity. She stood at his desk and looked with his eyes.

Then, with the skills of a seasoned criminal, she slid her fingers up and under the edge of the lined desk chair seat. She could feel that it was there, easy enough for him to gain easy access but hard for someone unaware of knowing where to look.

She carefully manipulated the leather seat cover and pressed on the edge of it to coax the hidden treasure out and close enough to reach.

Pay dirt.

His little black notebook.

She fanned through it to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. She hasn’t. It was there and right where she suspected.

She could hardly believe her eyes, her good fortune, even though she had anticipated success. Her heart raced and she could hear the warning, “GET OUT NOW!”

Run.

But, she didn’t run. She was scared to make a misstep that may reveal her presence, at all, ever, since yesterday when she escaped his clutches.

He had no idea that she even escaped which makes this redemption even sweeter.

He believed she’ll be returning tomorrow and simply went to visit her mother. So, she sauntered with purpose. After all, her spine just got a little stronger.

She is bold enough to wave at a neighbor as she backed out of the driveway. No worry about the elderly woman breaching confidence because he rarely spends time talking to people he considers beneath him. He won’t be small talking with neighbors that serve no purpose to him.

Her heart rate was slightly less intense but it wasn’t quite over, yet. She had one final step to take. Though the risk is not as great, the internal, and the overall emotional, betrayal is foreign to her.

Her hand shook as she confirmed that she actually has the book resting on the seat next to her.

She doesn’t want it out of her sight.

The names of the people and their numbers in the little black notebook were meaningless to her. What secret the book held, however, was of great importance. She squared her shoulders as she walked into the bank.

Smiles and pleasantries were exchanged and she was directed to their safety deposit box.

Though she believed there will be more than enough cash inside, she had been kept in the dark as far as financial decisions, so it was a toss-up. For years, her money was their money; his money was his. This wasn’t a planned arrangement.

He had just slowly and methodically isolated her and kept her away from any access as his greed grew.

The household bank account was being siphoned, she was sure of it, and rerouted to areas where she wasn’t given passwords and had no viable way to access them.

She peeled back the tape holding the little key firmly to the back cover of the notebook. Trembling, but determined to see this through, she unlocked and opened the box.

A slight pause, the smallest of hesitations as she began to taste her freedom. She scooped up the contents, put them in her bag, and promptly left.

She drove away from the bank, the town, and her past, riddled with abuse and diminished self-worth.

She drove and drove and even drove some more. She drove until the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body, from head to toe, waned.

Exhaustion crept in and she was nowhere familiar. That’s okay. In fact, it was such a good feeling to leave all the pain behind, all of the constricting control, and just breathe.

She checked into a motel off the highway and immediately took a scalding hot shower. She stayed there, letting the water wash away the woman she had been groomed into, and let the rebirth, the return to the real her, begin.

This time, the tears of fear became tears of sheer relief and excitement.

She collapsed on the bed. It was time to see what she had to work with. It doesn’t have to be much. She lives simply and is a survivor. She had the ability to rebound from everything thrown at her with a strength that is known to very few.

She was not afraid.

She opened her bag and started counting. Twenty thousand dollars splayed across the top of the over-washed, dated bedspread, of really what was her money.

It was now where it rightfully belonged.

And, tomorrow she will drive again until she feels like stopping. Her journey and her choices are exclusively in her power.

With redemption comes a lightness.

Her new chapter, her real story starts now.

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