Page 5 of Wanted

My lungs compress, and I gasp for air. My chest feels so heavy, it constricts my airways.

“No. That’s not true, it can’t be true. Lionel works there, I’ve called the number on the card before.”

I hand the card to her. Alison looks at it for a moment, then snorts. “This isn’t the same number I called, Stella. Anyone can do this with the help of a computer and a good printer. This may be part of the deception.”

Deception for what?

I have no money. Why would a rich guy go to all this trouble? An easy lay?

Lionel and I had already had sex when he proposed. He didn’t need to marry me to get me into bed. Ours is or was a normal relationship.

Someone pinch me, please, I need to wake up from this bad dream.

“Jesus, take control of this situation,” says my mother, and Alison rolls her eyes.

“Right now Jesus needs to do more than take the wheel, ma’am.” Alison turns to me. “How come you aren’t packing? You need to go to Los Angeles and find out what’s going on.”

No, no, I don’t want to think about it right now. I can’t.

“Open the window, please, Mom.” My eyes burn with tears. The dam is breaking, and I’m about to drown.

She runs to do what I’ve asked, but not before shooting Alison a pleading look.

“What kind of evil game is this?” I cry, without speaking to anyone in particular.

My mother takes my hand, stroking my knuckles gently with her thumb. “We are going to pray that God gives us guidance because we are in the dark.”

A breath of air finally fills my body.

I want an answer. I need an answer.

More than I need my next breath.

“You know what you have to do.” Alison tugs on my other hand. “Maybe Lionel had a reason, but he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

What if…

God, I can’t even think about that. Lionel is young, too young to say goodbye.

“You need to go, tot,” Mom says.

“Do you know where Los Angeles is?” They both look at me like I’m the one who doesn’t know the answer. “In California, that’s about two days away, and my truck won’t make it.”

My beloved truck that once belonged to my father. I loved it, like I’d loved him, but it wouldn’t make it halfway across the country.

“Then fly,” Alison chides me. She taps on her phone screen. “We’re going to buy you a ticket, and I’ll take you to the airport.”

I look at my mother, begging for help, but instead of the you’re-crazy-and-you’re-the-worst-influence-on-my-daughter look, I find her nodding. She agrees with Alison. This is bad… Is the apocalypse upon us that my mother is actually agreeing with Alison? This sure feels like the end of the world to me.

“Alison is right, you have to go, Stella,” my mother says, her voice breaking yet her hand on mine is steadfastly comforting.

“I can’t, Mom,” I confess, and it’s true. Fear paralyzes me. Not because of the journey itself, but because of what it could bring.

Not only facing the unknown but facing a reality for which I’m not ready.

I’m not ready for it.

And yet, my heart demands that I go.

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