AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Feelings come and go,” Emma said. “My ex, the father of my daughter...let’s just say that I thought what we had was real, but it was just feelings. You know what I mean? There was literally nothing underneath. Compatibility has to go deeper.”
I had no response. Just an unease, frothing in my chest like the bubbles in the hot tub. I’d been telling myself all along that I’m more similar to the girls than I am different. I even sold myself to Josh with that very line. But looking at Emma, laughing across from me in the hot tub, suddenly felt like looking across a chasm, and I had to think—what if I was wrong?
Stay in the moment, I tell myself now, as I make a second circle around the pool, taking care to stop and feel each sensation of my feet on the stone. Overthinking things can only ruin them at this point. I am what I am. If I doubt the process, I could end up destroying my future before I have a chance to build it.
And then it happens.
The jolt of a body hitting mine from behind.
The crunch of my arm against the patio as I fling it up to brace my fall.
Needles in my skull as the attacker yanks me around by the hair, lifts my head, and brings it crashing against the stone.
I have only a millisecond to take in the face above mine, a pale moon set with a strange, cold grimace, as if what she’s doing is not an act of passion but of necessity. A millisecond to gaze into eyes of washed-out blue, like the life was wrung out of them long ago. A millisecond to register age-spotted cheeks like sad, sunken craters, the smell of ripe body odor and unwashed gray hair.
Then Proposal crew members are pulling her back. I think there’s shouting, but a loud buzz in my head drowns it out.
I’m left looking at the dark blue sky, stunned. It’s so...wide. I feel so small, a mere bubble floating on the surface of a world deeper than I can know.
I think about saying What just happened? but I’ve bitten my tongue. Blood wells up, flooding my mouth.
“Julia?” It’s a medic, leaning over me, her face a kinder moon. She smells fresh, like lemons. “Can you hear me? Stay with me, Julia. Julia?”
My vision goes fuzzy. A bubble is so delicate, after all. One touch and it bursts.
I black out.
NOW
The sun is starting its descent by the time I set back toward the campsite. I walk quietly over the soft squish of the ground, swishing clouds of gnats away as I go.
It’s been miserable, hiding in the woods. The pressure in my breasts from milk got so painful, I pulled up my shirt and tried to hand-express. It didn’t go well.
During Annaleigh’s first weeks of life, when I was barely sleeping, if someone had offered me a few hours in the woods alone? I would have cried from gratitude. Of course, in that scenario I never would have imagined myself peeing in a bush, cursing the armies of ants determined to climb my legs, and yanking at my own sore nipples.
Finally, there’s a flash of army green up ahead—Josh’s tent. And my car, a silver glimmer just beyond.
Fresh yellow tape has been strung around the campsite, but no one appears to be standing guard. I pick my way back to my car. Climb in, close the door as softly as I can. The second I push the lock button, my milk starts releasing.
“Damn it,” I say, nearly crying from the pressure and the pain as I fumble for my breast pump. Shirt up, I’m fitting it onto my breasts, pushing the power button. Just as milk streams into the twin bottles, I hear a loud female voice.
“Excuse me! Ma’am!”
Crossing toward my car from the blue tent is Miss Pert. Gray hair, athletic build, brisk walk.
“Fuck no,” I growl, and start the car with a ragey twist of the key while I try to juggle both bottles with my other hand. I jam the accelerator, spitting gravel and dirt, the car weaving as I struggle to drive and pump. Finally, I shoot out of the campground and onto the paved county road. It’s five o’clock, later than I thought. I need to charge my phone and text Eden, but I have no free hands. At least the milk is still streaming out, relieving one discomfort. At least the road is smooth. I creep up to 80 miles per hour.
I’ve never felt so weak, so desperate. Thirsty, hungry, dirty, stiff, with a deep panic from being away from Annaleigh for too long. All I want to do right now is go home. Take a shower and put on fresh clothes and snuggle my baby and try to feel as safe as I can for as long as I can.
A lit marquee to the right of the road catches my eye: Stella’s. Old-Fashioned Diner Food for the Whole Family. The place where Andy and Josh were supposed to meet for breakfast on Sunday. I nearly spin out with how fast I take the turnoff into the small parking lot. Everything in me is screaming to get back to my baby, but I have to do this.
I park, plug my phone in to charge, and try to make myself presentable. Cap off the pumping bottles, readjust my bra. Saucer-sized milk stains adorn the front of my shirt, but I brought a fleece sweatshirt. I fight my way into it.
The diner is run-down, like everything in Southern Indiana. Tin roof and weathered siding. Even in the parking lot, the smell of old oil hangs in the air. It’s worse inside—fishy, like clam chowder gone wrong. Brown booths line the sides, only one occupied by two old men. The LED lighting is cold, unforgiving, showing every rip in the vinyl booths, every chip on the tables. I wish I had hand sanitizer.
“Hi,” I say to the iron-haired woman behind the aluminum breakfast bar, the obvious candidate for questioning. She’s running a rag over the surface, scattering food residue as she goes.
“What can I getcha?”
