Page 42 of The Woman I’ve Become

Julia

Westport, Connecticut

I wake up sore from the rough sex, but it feels fantastic. I stretch and think of all the things that Casey said to me only two hours ago. My eyes widen as I see the time. I’ll be late for school.

He wants me so much, but he thinks he can’t have me because of who I am. I think of my parents and the money. All the trips, the clothes, the stuff that means nothing. Casey is all that matters to me.

I sit up. I’ll be eighteen next month, and I want to be with him. I don’t need any of this. The money—none of it matters.

I get up, fully awake now. I slept on the floor between my bed and the front windows—out of view of the door. I didn’t want one of my parents to glance in and see me or the bed unmade since I was supposed to be at a friend’s. I grab my backpack, empty all the school stuff out, and kick it under the bed. I stuff a change of clothes, makeup, and all the money I have along with my driver’s license in there. Then I grab my phone. On second thought, I add a couple of things I might need for camouflaging myself this morning.

One step at a time, I ease downstairs listening for my parents’ voices. They’re still in the kitchen having breakfast.

I reach the front door and unlock it. The click of the lock paralyzes me for an instant. Once I have the door open, I listen again to ensure they have no idea I’ve even been in the house. How dense they are to trust me so.

I close the door behind me, then bound across the driveway and disappear into the trees for the shortcut to the road. My parents won’t even miss me until five or so this evening.

At the road, I decide once I get to school I’ll try to hitch a ride to Casey’s place. It would take too long to walk, and I’d be all sweaty. What I need first is a ride to school before my parents leave for their mornings and catch me out here.

Just like clockwork, Deana Williams’s car appears. She slows to a stop. Her house is the closest to ours. She powers down the passenger window. “Hey, girl, why didn’t you tell me you needed a ride to school?”

I open the door and get in. “Because I knew you would come along anyway.”

We laugh and I’m off. The lift from Deana will get me to the school. I’ll hitch a ride from Post Road and be in Norwalk in no time.

At the school I walk to the main entrance with Deana, then I wait until she melts into the crowd and I head back out again.

Once I’m away from the school, I take the beanie out of my backpack and finagle my long red hair into it and pull it down over my ears. Then I put on the sunglasses I never wear. Backpack on my shoulder, I start walking with my thumb out. I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure how reliable hitching is these days. Luckily it takes only about ten minutes for someone to decide to pull over. It’s an older man, sort of frail looking. Works for me. I could probably take him if the need arose.

“Where are you headed, young lady?”

“Devon Avenue in Norwalk. You going that way?”

He nods as he merges into the traffic. “Why aren’t you in school?” He shoots me a look.

“I have a day off, and I’m doing an experiment to see how many acts of kindness I encounter. Thank you for stopping, by the way.”

He gives a nod and a grunt. “Whatever you say, girlie.”

Half an hour later—because the old man is such a slow driver and traffic is heavy—he drops me off on Devon Avenue. This isn’t my final destination, but it’s the only one he needs to know about.

I walk the final two blocks to Newfield Street. I remove the beanie and the sunglasses and toss both into my backpack. I finger comb my hair and pop a piece of cinnamon gum in my mouth. My heart rate climbs faster and faster as I walk toward his house. His car is there, so he probably is too. If he’s not, I’ll wait for him.

At the door I knock and wait. I hear sounds, maybe footsteps.

Then the door opens. Casey is half naked. No shirt, jeans gaping open as if he’d just dragged them on.

The scent of coffee coming from inside reminds me I haven’t had breakfast.

“What’re you doing here, Julia?”

I belly up to him. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

“I won’t be here long,” he warns. “I have work.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I push past him.

When he closes the door and faces me, I tell him. “I’m here to stay. Wherever you go, I’m going with you.”