raised his eyebrows at me.
“Shut up Eli! You weren’t supposed to tell,” said Josh.
“I’ll start dinner,” I muttered, pushing past Emmet. “Right after I slit my wrists.” Emmet laughed…actually laughed. I guess he wasn’t worried about the secret mission.
The boys joined me in the kitchen after a few minutes. I almost hoped Emmet had been able to persuade them to tell him what the secret mission was about. I agonized he would pull me aside and give me another verbal what-for. The boys sat down for their alien meal and Emmet came in to say good-bye. Once more, he looked me up and down, this time shaking his head. I went from feeling foolish to feeling indignant.
“That’s enough,” I warned, shaking my finger at him. “We were making the most of a rainy day. I’ll have it all cleaned up before your company arrives tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” he claimed with an innocent grin. “I’ll be home in time to let Romulus out.” He walked out of the kitchen. I wanted to throw something, but restrained.
With Emmet gone for the rest of the evening, the boys and I almost finished the scrapbook. By 8:30 they were in bed and I was in the basement cleaning up. I couldn’t distract myself from the encounters with Emmet this week. My emotions swung back and forth from feeling sorry for him to wanting to choke the life out of him; two horrible days of servitude plus the humiliation of this evening’s alien spectacle. Nothing I did—big or small—seemed appreciated. It was amazing I had made it to Friday night without internally combusting.
Then, I thought about moving out Monday. In less than two weeks I had become attached to the boys, Susan, and, though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, somehow, to Emmet. But even if he apologized when he received the scrapbook, I just couldn’t imagine recovering enough to return to a working relationship with him…so why couldn’t I just let it go? Why was I dwelling on the small glimpses of time we had together and wanting more?
Because I am an idiot; he’s treated me worse than terribly. And the horrible names he’s called me…I am a pathetic doormat, used to getting emotional crumbs from my husband. I deserve to be treated better than this...even from my employer. My nerves can’t handle the conflict.
Those thoughts made my hostility rise and my blood boil. I questioned what made me more furious, Emmet’s insensitive pompousness or that it affected me. Why did I care if he liked me or not? Why would I ever allow anyone to make me feel that way…again? And why the hell couldn’t I stay objective and emotionally neutral? Maybe I was more angered with my own inadequacies than with Emmet’s behavior.
Unfortunately, the ugliness of my thoughts transmuted from Emmet to Lawrence. Apart from the previous night, my emotions had been so engaged with Emmet I had hardly thought about Lawrence. That was a disturbing silver lining to this whole incident. Though the unfortunate reality was in two short days I would be homeless and without the protection of a security guard or attack dog.
13
I was half way into my morning run when I felt I was being followed. I sped up my pace and tried to glance backward to see if it was just my vivid imagination or if my nightmares had come true. Eventually the shadow was close enough for me to see his face. It was Lawrence. Although at least one hundred feet away, I could see the hate and determination in his eyes. He was coming for me. He was going to kill me. My heart nearly exploded.
The faster I ran, the faster he ran until both of us were in a full sprint. My body was exerting every ounce of energy I had, but still, he was closing in on me. I cut through the park trying to get back to safety. Lawrence had almost caught me. I ran through the woods using my arms to grab on to anything that would help propel me forward. He was still on my heels. Finally out of the woods and into the clearing I had less than a half-mile to go. Lawrence emerged from the woods, but not alone. There were ten or twenty others with him; I didn’t slow down to count. I screamed and continued to run for my life.
I could see safety; it was just over the hill. I kept running. Finally, a few feet from the top of the hill, a few feet from safety, I looked back. Lawrence and the others were walking toward me. They knew something I didn’t…knew there was no escape. Then I saw it. In front of me was not safety. It was not the gated entrance to Emmet’s home. It was not the property guarded by a fierce attack dog. I had not run to safety, I had run to the edge of the quarry. The drop was more than one hundred feet with a shallow pool of water at the bottom. If I jumped, I would die. If I didn’t jump, I would die. I turned back to look at Lawrence. The others grew to an angry mob more numerous than I could count. As they came closer I began to recognize them. They were witnesses who had disappeared, jurors who had dropped out of sight, prosecutors, judges, and more. For every one I knew there were at least ten I didn’t. They were beaten and bloody and some of them looked dead. I took one final look at Lawrence, and dropped to my knees screaming as loud as I could; knowing no one would hear…
…then, I woke up.
I sat up covered in sweat, shaking and crying. It was still dark outside. My clock said 3:11. I leaned forward with my knees pulled to my chest covering my head with my arms, trying to calm myself down, but I couldn’t stop crying…shivering.
My bedroom door exploded open. I shrieked, held my hands up to shield myself, trying to scream.
“What is it?” I heard in an urgent male voice.
“No! No!” I was back in my nightmare.
“Annie, what happened?” He ran over to the balcony and looked outside. “Was someone in your room? Did someone attack you?”
This time I really heard him. Heard it was Emmet. But I couldn’t answer; I couldn’t breathe. He took a step toward me and reflexively I threw my hands back up. My scream was only a whisper; more like a cry.
Emmet stopped and waited patiently for me to lower my hands. I was breathing hard with little gasps like a child when she cries. My eyes were fixed on Emmet. I was still shaking but finally able to speak, though not quite coherently. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Annie, just nod. I’ll just ask you questions…you just nod. Was someone in your room?”
I shook my head.
“Did you see someone outside?”
I shook my head no again.
“Are you alright?”
I nodded yes, but I was feeling anything but alright.
He walked toward me and sat down so close to the edge of the bed he was barely on it. He put his hand on my shoulder and said softly, “Sometimes the nightmares seem so real, don’t they? Do want me to stay for a little while?”
My voice finally returned. “No, thank you. I’m fine…really,” I said, still wiping the tears from my face and neck.
“You don’t look fine,” he said with a warm smile. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No, I think I just need a shower. I...I might as well get up. I can’t sleep anymore.”
“Annie, it’s barely after three. Go back to sleep. I can stay with you, if you’d like.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to convince myself. I wished I could have asked him to stay. I slept restlessly for the next three
