Chapter Four
With little to do, I checked my classes for new work, which filled most of my morning and afternoon with studying. One had a paper that would be due so I put extra effort into that as well. My first Saturday on my own passed with plodding eventuality as did Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. By Wednesday, I’d finished most of the work including the paper.
Closing the laptop, I leaned back on the couch. Just a few more weeks of classes, and they would be done. Then what? I turned my head to look out the window. Although Racer had been nicer over the weekend, he hadn’t made an appearance since.
Sighing, I reached for my phone. Dad had called each night since moving me here. But, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. When he’d moved me, he had told me not to contact any friends. I looked at the phone in my hand. It would be so easy to call Stephanie, one of my closest friends since grade school and chat with her for an hour. An hour of entertainment. But Dad’s edict wasn’t to torture me. He’d said it to protect me. Contact with someone else increased the chances that Chuck could find me. However, I wasn’t here because I was afraid of Chuck. Besides, if I didn’t say where I was, what could it really hurt to call Stephanie? I called Dad with this phone.
I dialed Stephanie. She picked up on the first ring. As expected, she started grilling me for details about where I was. I bluntly told her that wasn’t something I could share. Instead, I just wanted to catch up on the latest gossip. I didn’t really care about that, of course. I just wanted to talk to someone for more than a few minutes. She had me laughing in ten.
The phone buzzed indicating another call. It took me by surprise. No one called except Dad, and he never called until after dinner. I asked Stephanie to hold and looked at the number. Dad. Worried, I told Stephanie I’d call her back later and switched calls.
“Dad, are you okay?”
“Gillian, we had a deal. That phone is for incoming calls only. Who did you call?”
My mouth dropped open. How had he known?
“Are you monitoring the cell activity online or something? It was just Stephanie. I didn’t say anything about where I was. I was bored and asked her to tell me the latest gossip just to hear someone’s voice.”
“After we’re done talking, you’ll give your phone to Racer. You’ve lost my trust.”
Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “My trust? Dad, I’ve done everything else you’ve asked of me without a word. You stuck me in the middle of nowhere. I do my homework and when that’s done, I have four days of nothing. I pace around my apartment, listening to my own footsteps. If I go outside, Racer follows me around like I’m a prisoner needing close supervision. Trust? I’ve lost my trust in you. You said the move was to keep me safe and that we’d get a car when we got up here. That I’d still have my independence. Where’s the car? Where’s my independence? I’m eighteen, and I’ve never been more dependent in my life. I don’t have curtains on my windows, I’m running out of food, and I can’t do anything about it. The only person I can talk to or beg a favor from obviously doesn’t want me here.” And I wasn’t even getting the answers I wanted.
A sob escaped, and tears ran down my cheeks. How did they get there? I pulled myself together enough to finish the call.
“I’ll give Racer the phone. Don’t bother calling to check up on me again.”
“Gillian—”
I hung up. Tears streaming, I stared at the phone. The move wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to protect me, yes, but not confine me. To be fair, he’d been straightforward about the rules. I’d broken one. But should ten minutes of fun conversation have caused a fight between us? What had it really harmed? By placing me here with very little to keep me occupied, he had to know I’d get lonely. Didn’t he care? I knew he did. He’d sounded deeply upset when he’d said my name. I’d never yelled at him like that before. But then, he’d never gone this far before.
Using my sleeve, I wiped off my face and opened the kitchen door. This was the last order I’d take from him. No more. I would stay in this place for nine months as we’d agreed. After that, somehow, I’d be gone. I’d find answers on my own. And if Chuck was still an issue, I’d get the police involved.
Tromping down the stairs, I wasn’t surprised to see Racer standing in his open doorway. This time, he didn’t lean casually to the side. He watched me closely, his face impassive. Before I reached the bottom step, I tossed the phone to him. He caught it, never breaking eye contact. Something in his gaze had my eyes watering again. It almost looked like he felt sorry for me. Without a word, I turned and ran back upstairs, closing the door firmly.
I wanted to be angry; but, instead, I felt empty and alone. Needing to stop thinking, I cranked the radio and headed toward the bathroom for a melting shower. Too much, or rather too little, had happened; and I couldn’t do anything about it. I stayed under the scalding spray until it faded from hot to warm.
Gathering a new resigned acceptance around me, I toweled off and went to my room. I touched the jewelry box, thought of my mother, and wished she was still with me. Turning the jewelry box over, I peeled away the tacky felt bottom and removed the letter she’d hidden away for me. I didn’t read it. There was no need. I’d read it so many times since my dad had given the jewelry box to me that I’d memorized the whole thing. Life was so confusing, but she was right about one thing. My dad loved me so much he would do anything to keep me safe. I put the letter back and crawled into bed. Light still shone brightly through the windows. It didn’t matter. I slept anyway.
I woke again when the windows reflected black nothingness. Staying in my warm cocoon, I felt my resignation slip a bit. Why couldn’t I try sneaking away? Racer had to sleep at some point. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to not care. Nine months.
The next time I woke, my head hurt. I got up and took something for it. It probably hurt because I slept too much. Standing in the kitchen with the empty glass in my hand, I unenthusiastically surveyed my tiny world. Nothing in it appealed to me. Except maybe the bed. I recalled the last time I’d slept too much and looked at the door. I would stash some of my blankets in the closet just in case.
My stomach growled again after the sunset. It persisted until I got out of bed and fed it cereal. The last of the milk went in the bowl. Seeing the empty carton depressed me all over again. Sniffling, I rinsed my bowl and went back to my room, turning off the lights. I’d slept so much I wasn’t tired. But it didn’t matter which room I went to, there wasn’t anything to do in any of them. As I lay there, I calculated the date for nine months forward. January! My luck I’d get snowed in.
Eventually, I fell back to sleep.
When I woke, before I even opened my eyes, I knew something was off. There was light, but not enough of it. Thinking I’d see rain or snow out the window, or at the very least, a cloudy sky, I was surprised to see blinds. Cream-colored accordion blinds covered both windows.
Sitting up, I looked around the room. My bedroom door wasn’t fully open. I swung my legs from the bed and moved to check the guest room. Still no blinds. The living room now sported floor length, beige and brown, light-blocking curtains while the kitchen had a blind similar to the bedroom.
I seriously needed a lock.
On the kitchen table, lay a note. Your dad’s worried. He’d like you to give him a call when you’re up. Knock anytime. ~R
I had nothing but time. What did it matter when I called him? I crumpled up the note and made to toss it in the garbage then hesitated. I was looking at this all wrong. As a kid, I entertained myself for hours on my own. Why was I having such a hard time now? Because I was trying to look at this as an adult. Why not have some fun? What did I used to do? Paint, draw, and play with dolls as a child. Well, most of that was out because I didn’t have any of the right materials. The point was that I used my imagination when I was younger. I just needed to get creative. Maybe that was my answer to getting around Racer. At the very least, it might be entertaining.
Not bothering to change out of my pajamas, I ran my fingers through my tangled hair as I ambled down the steps. As seemed to be his habit, he stood at the door waiting for me before I reached the bottom. He had the phone in his hand with Dad’s number ready for dialing.
“No, thanks. Do you have some milk? I’m out.” I didn’t really care about milk. I wasn’t hungry yet.
He seemed surprised by my question and my refusal to call my dad. “He’s really worried about you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. But it’d be better if I had some breakfast in me first.” He looked at the phone and then at me, hesitating. I didn’t let him over think it. “Thanks for the curtains and blinds, by the way. How did you hang them without me hearing? I didn’t think I slept that heavy…”
He ignored my question. “Do you want to eat with me? I can make pancakes. I’m out of milk, too.”
Pancakes reminded me of his jacket, which, given my volatile mood, was too nice a memory to bring out just then. “That’s okay. Thanks anyway.” I moved to start walking up the stairs but paused when he spoke.
“Gillian, if you don’t talk to him, he’ll drive up here.”
“You call him. Tell him I’m fine, but I’m too mad at him to talk nicely.” Ignoring his sigh, I walked upstairs and called back, “I’m going to the shed to run.” Time to play.
I changed into my workout clothes and jogged down the stairs. The door remained closed. In the pole shed, I cranked the radio high and, ignoring the treadmill, picked up a five-pound free weight. When I heard the door open, I made as if to lift it, looked at Racer, and arched a brow.
“Do you mind?” I shouted.
He frowned at me, gave a single nod, and strode through to his side of the shed. The door clicked closed, and I grinned.
* * * *
I breathed deeply, jogging and enjoying my freedom despite the ache that had crept into my side because of my steady pace. The rhythmic crunch of my feet hitting the gravel soothed me. I continued for a while before coming to an intersection. The paved crossroad with a sign calling it Main Street gave me hope that I was getting close to town. I went right and continued running. Eventually, I saw mailboxes in the distance. I glanced at my watch. Almost thirty minutes had passed. I slowed to a walk, letting the breeze cool my sweat.
The first driveway led to a trailer on a cement block foundation. In the yard sat a beautifully rusted Pontiac. I wasn’t a car person so I wasn’t sure what model. Without the little chrome emblem, I wouldn’t have known the make either. Regardless, the sign in the window stating five hundred dollars or best offer lightened my step.
“Morning,” a man called, stepping out of his home.
He looked close to my age, dressed in work-stained jeans and a thin, dark jacket. He walked toward me with a friendly smile.
“Interested?”
“It sure would beat walking,” I said with a smile of my own.
“Gillian.”
The sound of Racer’s voice made me jump. The angry tone in it made me want to cringe.
“Morning, Mr. Bledak,” the man called, looking a little to my right, the direction from which I’d just run. I watched the man’s steps slow and his smile fade.
I turned, keeping my smile in place. “Hi, Mr. Bledak.”
Racer had the hood of his sweatshirt up. It cast his face in shadows. He walked toward me with his hands in his pockets. Unlike me, he wasn’t out of breath or sweaty.
“Why are you here?” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down.
The man cleared his throat, mumbled something about forgetting his lunch inside, and took off toward the house. I glanced at his retreating form for just a moment before turning back to Racer.
“Where’s the grocery store?”
His clenched jaw relaxed minutely before clenching again. The man was a ball of annoyance and tension. How could he live day to day like that? Just one week had me ready to jump out a window.
“Just down there.” He nodded in the direction I’d been heading. I turned to look. Sure enough. A small grocery waited on the next corner.
I gave him my best puzzled expression. “Is that where you and Dad went?”
He narrowed his eyes and titled his head as he studied me. “Yes.”
“So you drove this way?”
This time his face relaxed completely, going carefully blank. To his credit, he didn’t once glance at the car on the lawn.
“That’s what I thought. Got that phone?” I held out my hand.
“I don’t think now would be a good time to use it.”
“Oh, I think now is a perfect time.” My temper was starting to boil. He just stood there watching me.
“Fine.” I started to walk toward the grocery store, but a hand on my arm stopped me.
“Gillian, it’s time to go home.”
“And just where is that?” I said looking back at him. “As far as I can tell, I don’t have one. Just a prison.”
Annoyance crept back into his features. “Stop being so dramatic.” He pulled me close, obviously ready to drag me along.
I kicked his shin. His eyes darkened again. I ignored them, twisted my arm, which he released, and started walking back to the apartment. It was a long, silent walk.
When I opened the door, he finally spoke again.
“Here’s the phone.”
“I changed my mind. I still have nothing to say to Dad.”
“He’ll come up here if you don’t talk to him.” Racer almost sounded relieved.
I pivoted on the steps to meet Racer’s once again normal gaze. If I had to suffer, he would, too.
“Chuck followed me from college. I’d been watching my mirrors like usual and never once saw him.” I paused then shrugged. “Tell my dad to be careful on his trip here. Never know who might be watching.” I left Racer scowling in the entry.
Later that day, a truck pulled into the yard. I watched from a window as Racer and another guy unloaded bags of groceries. As if that would make it all better.
* * * *
For the next two days, Racer stuck to me whenever I left the apartment. So, I developed a routine of unpredictability. I went to bed by ten, woke at 3 a.m. to vacuum, went back to bed until five then blasted the radio to sing in the shower. The next night I went to bed by seven, woke at 2 a.m. and took out the garbage. I made sure to splash water on my face first so I looked wide-awake when I saw him at the door. He looked like hell.
“What are you doing?”
I lifted the bag. “Taking out the trash.”
“Wait for me to get my shoes on.”
“No, thanks.” I pushed open the door and walked out to the trashcan. It was cold enough that I tested the air to see if my breath misted. Nope. I lingered outside until I heard the door open.
I walked back into the house and called goodnight to Racer. Then I went upstairs and turned on the radio in the living room. With a smile, I closed myself into my room and went back to bed. He most likely wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
In the morning, I woke with the alarm, turned off the music, dressed in workout clothes, and went to the shed. He was already on his side of the shed, working on a car. The double-hung doors were wide open. He wouldn’t let me sneak off the same way twice. I hadn’t really expected him to. I cranked up some party rock and jumped onto the treadmill. The world melted away for a while. Waking up in the middle of the night for two nights in a row hadn’t affected me yet, but it had Racer. When I glanced his way, I caught him leaning against the car with his eyes closed. I stopped the treadmill, and his eyes popped open.
“Does that little town have a library?”
He just stared at me.
“You know...a place with books.”
He didn’t answer. I sighed. Have it your way, I thought.
“The treadmill just isn’t cutting it. Come on, let’s go for a jog.”
I picked up my hoodie and headed for the door. His faint words reached me before I pulled it open.
“I think I hate her.”
I smiled and went for another run.
* * * *
At eight, the apartment went dark. I felt my way to the kitchen and got a flashlight from the drawer. Before I could click it on, the heat kicked in. Standing there, I listened. Below me, I heard a faint sound, like a television. Narrowing my eyes, I opened the apartment door. The hall light was on.
I went down the steps but didn’t knock on Racer’s door. He didn’t come out, either. I continued to the basement to check the breaker box. I’d noticed it when I’d done my laundry. It was free of spider webs now. The panel hung open. Inside, the little round screw-in fuses were all there, but three had little scorch marks on them.
Fine. Let the games begin.
I tromped up the stairs and barged into his apartment. He looked up at me in surprise. A game played out on the television.
“My power’s out. Is it okay if I crash here tonight?”
I didn’t wait for his answer but walked toward the open door to his bedroom. I closed myself in with a smile. In the brief look I’d gotten, he had a recliner and a straight back chair in his small living room. I couldn’t imagine either would be comfortable for sleeping if he let me stay. If he didn’t let me stay, I’d keep at him until he turned the power back on upstairs. Then, I would continue to make his life as miserable as he’d made mine.
“Your phone’s on the dresser,” he said loud enough that I heard him through the door. “Call your dad.”
“Night, Racer.”
I’d won. Stifling my laugh, I looked around his bedroom. A queen-sized bed, dresser, hamper—he owned a hamper?—and nightstand filled his room. His sliding closet door was open so I didn’t feel even slightly guilty peeking. Neat and color-coded. That explained so much.
After paging through texts that Stephanie had sent to my new number, I set two alarms on the phone. One in an hour and another at 1 a.m. I tended to sleep through phone alarms.
* * * *
Cold water hit me in the face. I gasped and sputtered and sat up. Racer stood beside the bed, eyes bloodshot and furious. He’d turned the bedroom light on. The clock beside the bed read just after one.
“Is my power back on?” I asked, wiping my eyes as if it were nothing unusual to be awakened with water in the face.
His gritted teeth didn’t part when he growled his answer. “Yes.”
“Great.” I tossed back the damp covers. “Sorry about the wet bed.” I left as abruptly as I arrived. When I was on the stairs, I heard him yell.
“You didn’t call him!”
I sprinted up the rest of the stairs and closed myself into my apartment. Racer was ready for the next phase of my plan. I went to bed, openly laughing.