somebody out there still cares about me.
Somebody other than my abductor.
I look out the little window, and press my palm against the glass. I’m alone in the cabin. I specifically asked for no flight attendants. It’s just me and the pilot on this plane, and he’s locked away behind those heavy metal doors.
I feel as cut off from the world, right now, as I ever have. Despite having all my freedoms. Despite having the ability to go wherever I want to go. I’ve ruined my relationship with Fey. I have no relationship with my mother. I doubt Sonja would want to talk to me. She’s only heard things from Fey’s side, and they don’t paint a pretty picture of who I’ve become.
More irony. Isn’t this—or some version of this—what I’ve always wanted? Independence. Self-sufficiency. A reliance on nobody and no one but myself?
At least, that’s what I thought I wanted. Now, I’m starting to see things differently. Independence is all good and great. But, when taken to the extreme, it becomes… despairing. Empty. With no warmth in my life from anybody other than Jeremy… and even that has disappeared after the way I disappointed him… what do I have left?
***
The plane touches down with a jerk. I open my eyes and look around.
The early rays of the sun are just starting to peek through the clouds. There’s a light frosting of snow on the ground.
We taxi towards the terminal and I deplane. The amount of snow was deceptive. It’s freezing cold out here. I rub my arms and wish for a hot coffee as I wait for the pilot to transfer my bags to the back of a waiting limousine.
But as we leave the airport, I get a sudden urge to test the limits of my freedom.
“Wait. Wait, stop.”
The driver looks back at me. “What, here?”
“Yes, here,” I snap. “Let me off.”
“Mr. Stonehart said to bring you to—”
“Yeah, well I’m telling you to stop right now . Mr. Stonehart’s not here, is he? I’m the one in charge.”
“Sure thing,” he shrugs. He pulls into an alcove of a strip mall. I open the door.
“My bags?” I demand impatiently.
The driver comes around and takes them out. I motion for him to place them by my feet. He sticks his hands into his front pockets.
“Mr. Stonehart won’t be pleased with me when he finds out,” he says.
“Let me worry about that,” I say.
“Crazy lady,” the driver mutters as he gets back into the limousine and takes off.
A few minutes later, I spot a cab cruising the lot and hail it. It stops curbside.
At least this way, Jeremy will have no way to keep track of me , I think.
I get in. The driver asks a question I have no ready answer to.
“Where to?”
I take out a slip of paper with the address of the diner jotted down on it. “Do you know that place?”
He squints at Jeremy’s small, tight handwriting. Then he nods. “Yeah, sure. Nice shop. Serves the best chili in the state. But it won’t be open now.”
“I know,” I say. “Just bring me to a hotel nearby.”
“Nearby?” he asks. “Won’t be any hotels nearby, little lady. Just pit stops and the occasional motel.”
“That’s fine,” I say. I pause, and then add, “And a car rental?”
The taxi driver grins at me as if he’s just been let in on some great secret. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure thing.”
***
I drop my bags off at a seedy motel and then return to the cab to be driven to rent a car. I get a Toyota. It feels so strange to be behind the wheel of a vehicle. Nobody had cars at Yale. On a small campus, there was no need. The only reason I got my driver’s license was because I’d saved up for driving courses during high school. My mother obviously did not have a car.
Then there was all the time spent under Jeremy’s care, secluded from the world. Having my hands on the steering wheel, feeling my foot on the gas pedal, having the car move forward at my command…all of it feels strange, surreal, but a little… empowering.
I wonder, in the back of my mind,
Donald L. Barlett, James B. Steele