Lucky Number Thirteen
"So then what happened?"
How can I put this into words? "All at once, I realized what you and Ray had been trying tell me for years. Like I couldn't see it clearly for myself... but the thought of bringing another life into it? Into that nightmare?" I shake my head. "It was terrifying."
- Continue Flashback -
Thirty-two days. I am four days late. I have never been this late before. A day or two, maybe... especially at the height of my running career. Some girls on the team didn't get their periods at all, but I always did. The curse.
But right now? It wouldn't be curse at all. It would be a relief.
Forgetting about breakfast, I just sit in a daze for most of the day, watching the clock and waiting for José to come home. He walks in at 6:00 with a wary expression and a huge bouquet of yellow daisies. Seeing me up and in the living room, he gives me a huge smile and a soft kiss on the lips.
"Feeling better, mi amor?" He asks, as if I'd been in bed with a bad cold.
No, actually, I am not okay! You beat me and you are holding me prisoner here. Why? Why are you doing this? I could ask a hundred questions, make a hundred accusations. I could tell him what's really going on. And now I think I might be pregnant. But I don't say any of those things. I just nod and give him a tight smile.
"Good. Do you mind making dinner while I shower? I got some chicken and vegetables at the market."
Once he's out of sight, I roll my eyes and get up to make dinner. Like everything's normal... just fine and dandy.
I can barely choke down any of my dinner, and José scowls as I push it around with my fork. He hates it when I waste food. When I waste anything.
"It's Wednesday... um, do you mind if I use your computer to email my dad and Kate?" I ask.
José agrees with a grunt, knowing that they will become suspicious if they don't hear from me at all. He unlocks his laptop and brings up my hotmail account while I clean up from dinner.
As always, he looks over my shoulder while I read and reply to messages from my dad and Kate. I keep the emails light and conversational, waiting for his approval before sending them. The emails from the first year - when there was still hope - were the worst.
Heard from your coach... Wondering if you'll be back for the Spring semester... It's your senior year, Annie... Don't forget about the Olympic Trials. You need to confirm by April if you plan to...
Now, like mine, they are safe and... resigned. Like we're all desperate just to keep in touch.
From Ray: Hope you're watching out for yourself and wearing plenty of sunscreen, kiddo... Do you get the Mariners games down there?... I love you, Annie.
Yes, I am doing great... Lots to do here and yes, I am wearing plenty of sunscreen... Don't worry about me, Daddy.
From Kate: I found this amazing apartment in downtown Seattle... I can't wait for you to see it!... When are you coming home?
The weather is incredible here... I saw two boys flying huge kites on the beach... My Spanish is really coming along and it's feeling more like home, mi amiga. My friend.
My best friend.
=/=/=/=
José and I give each other the silent treatment for the rest of the evening, and I finally go to bed but can't sleep. My mind is still swirling with the possibility that I might be pregnant. Am I having any symptoms? Are my breasts tender? I don't think so, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything.
In the early morning, while José is still sleeping, I get up to use the bathroom. And just like I have done over a dozen times, I check my underwear and hope for blood... and there it is. A bright stain in my panties... and I nearly collapse in relief. Thank God... Thank God... Thank God.
After taking care of the necessities, I feel all bloated and crampy and I don't feel like getting back in bed with him. So I go and lie down on the hard, beige couch and let sleep take me again.
"Mi amor?" I hear José get out of bed and shuffle out to find me, but I lie still. How long have I been lying here? Hours? It's bright in the room now and my hip is sore from lying in one position for so long on the pleather upholstery. "Why are you out here?"
I just shrug and ask, "Are you going into the gallery this morning?"
He perches on the coffee table facing me, "I'm sorry you're bored here, but it's not safe for you to go out alone. I can be a little late today. Do you want to go out with me now? Get some things from the market for breakfast?"
I sit up and look at him and I can tell that he means it. I do want to go out.
"Get dressed... you're always in that robe." He stands and walks into the bedroom, and I hear the shower turn on.
And in that instant, I decide that I am not going to stay here and wait for the next time. For him to hurt me again... or worse. I dress quickly in jeans, put on a tank top and light cotton shirt, slip on my Chucks, grab my shoulder bag. My wallet, passport, and phone are in a safe on the kitchen counter, but that can't be helped. I can't take much of anything without raising suspicion, so I choose my faithful Jane Eyre paperback and slip it into my bag. A plan... I should have a plan. But there's just no time. It's now or maybe never.
We're passing the small pharmacy when I have an idea. "Oh, José I need to get some... personal items," I say, knowing that he hates this kind of thing. He grimaces and then reaches into his pocket and hands me a few bills. A five and two ones - seven balboa - which are roughly equivalent to seven U.S. dollars. "I might need a little more, José," I say. Most of our money is my money, after all! "My period's really heavy this month and -" He holds up his hand to shut me up. Yep, that did it. He sighs and fishes out another five. "Cinco minutos," he says. Five minutes. Five minutes, twelve dollars, and as much bravery as I can muster.
"Gracias," I say quickly, and take one last peek at him, my husband, as I slip into the shop. Adiós. Goodbye... and good riddance.
The tiny pharmacy is lined with the usual cosmetics and medications, and the clerk looks up from her magazine and gives me a little smile. I smile back and pause in front of the feminine hygiene items, like I am trying to decide what to purchase. She looks back down, and I quickly make my way to the back of the shop, hoping to find what I need... and I see it. A sign above a plain metal door market Salida. Exit.
There's also a tiny bathroom in the little dark hallway, and I stick my head back out. "Si mi esposo pregunta, ¿puedes decirle que estoy en el baño?" If my husband asks, can you tell him I'm in the bathroom?
She nods without looking up, and I reach behind the bathroom door and find a button lock on the knob. I push it in and pull the door closed. Locked. Yes!
Stepping quickly over to the exit, I push against the door and it opens easily and silently, allowing me access to a narrow alleyway. It's smelly and dark, and I shove the door shut behind me, noticing that there's no handle on it - no way back in. I have no choice but to move forward.
What direction is the American Embassy? I don't know whether to turn left or right. Thinking of the street in front, I believe that the alleyway stretches further to the right. So I set off in that direction, breaking into a jog to put as much distance between me and José as possible.
I pass the backs of business after business, skirting between dumpsters and parked motorbikes. Until finally, up ahead, I see a patch of sunlight. It's a cross street and sitting right on the curb in front of me is the most beautiful sight - a Panama City Yellow Cab.
The light is off, indicating that it's out of service, but I couldn't care less at this moment. Without breaking my stride I pull open the rear door of the cab and slam it shut behind me, ducking my head down and out of sight.
Out of breath, I manage to gasp to the surprised cabbie, who's taking a bite out of his sandwich, "U.S. Embassy... por favor. Please."
- End flashback -
"So they called Ray and... you know the rest," I shrug, then finish up my second cup of tea, which has gone cold by now.
Kate is a muddle of emotions - relieved, visibly shaken, triumphant - but she composes herself like the newswoman that she is, and asks her next question. "So what's happening with José?"
"Ray's been dealing with most of that... only telling me what I need to know. But he's standing trial in Panama next week for... what he did to me. And I guess he forged some documents so that we could stay there longer? The government frowns on that," I smile. "He will likely serve some prison time in Panama and then be shipped back to Mexico. He shouldn't be able to return to the U.S. - not for a very long time at least."
"And are you still married?"
"Kind of? I filed for divorce almost as soon as I got home. It's going to take some time, but Anastasia Steele will be back."
Kate and I said goodbye with a few tears and promises to see each other again soon. It was after eleven by the time I made it back home to Montesano, and I could hear Ray's snores when I passed by his room.
In spite of the late hour, I decide to fire up my MacBook and search the job listings. March is prime time for school districts to begin posting jobs for the next school year.
Staying on the Olympic Peninsula and close to home would be ideal, but being a first year teacher - one who didn't quite even have her certification yet - I know that I can't be too choosy.
Making sure my search parameters are set correctly - 100 mile radius surrounding Montesano... secondary education - I click the 'search' button and wait as the results load.
One new listing... English teacher/ girls' track and cross-country coach. Bellevue High School. My heart starts to pound. This sounds too good to be true. It's my dream job... and within thirty seconds of seeing the post, I am already planning the next chapter of my life. I could get a little apartment in downtown Bellevue, drive across the bridge to see Kate on the weekends...
Okay. Cool it, Steele. The posting instructs applicants to apply online through the district's website. So I close the listings and open Google, quickly typing "Bellevue High School" into the search engine.
I take just a minute to look around the website, opening links to look at their academic statement, athletics department... and school administrators.
Principal.... Vice-Principal... Director of Athletics and Activities.
I see a very familiar pair of gray eyes looking back at me, and I stop in my tracks. Coach Grey.
I flop back onto my pillows, and feelings that I've been repressing for years come rushing back. Oh God... ohhh... I have been numb for so long, not allowing myself to feel anything. He was a teacher and married... I was his student and his athlete. Then he came to see me... and left. And then I was with José. It's like my whole life is divided in two: before that day, and after.
Exhausted, I drift off to sleep and - for the first time in nearly three years - I dream of Coach's body pressed against mine, his gray eyes dark and hungry as he devours me, and...
And then I wake up, sweating and frustrated. My room is still dark, but I can tell that morning is close. I check my clock: 5:50. And my mind starts spinning again. I found the perfect job, one that seems too good to be true, and... Oh God.
Knowing that I won't be able to get back to sleep, I roll out of bed and pull on my running clothes and my Montesano Bulldogs hoodie. Ray is still snoring away, so I scribble a quick note and leave it on the counter.
Out for a run. Back by 7:00. Yes, I have my phone. Love, A.
I slip out the back door and consider my options... around the lake or up the ridge? It's an easy decision, and I take off at an easy pace. I'm craving the lung-burning, thigh-screaming climb up to the ridge. And the view from the top.
By the time I make the 1 1/4 mile climb, the sun is rising above the Cascades and I shed my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist. I walk over to the railing that marks the top of the trail and the viewpoint, facing east toward the rising sun. And although I know that I'm too far away to make out any details, I pretend that I can see Bellevue from here. And Coach.
The run up here to this viewpoint has done its job. My head is clear and I know two things for sure. I want that job. And I want to get it on my own.
A/N: For those of you who have been waiting... and waiting... We made it! Chapter 14 is the prologue from Ana's point of view and a little bit of... what happens next!
Jeanette Emerson from NET Hook & Line Designs made me this photo teaser. I LOVE it! Check out her Facebook page.