Page 5 of Desolation

I calm my quick steps to a stroll.

“We’re having a girl’s night over in the common room.”

I plaster a fake smile on my face. I don’t know why I bother, everyone here is in a much worse place than I am. “You have a girl’s night every night.”

Rochelle shrugs. “Well, yeah, but what else are we supposed to do?”

“I’m tired.” It’s not a lie. I am exhausted.

“You’re always tired.”

I try to think of any excuse but I am coming up empty-handed. I concede. “Fine. Let me just put my stuff away.”

Rochelle claps, a smile brightening up her healing face. She has been in and out of this place twice since I’ve been here. Each time she goes back to her no-good boyfriend and within days she is back in here after another beating. I don’t know why she keeps going back and she won’t tell me either.

I unlock the door to my private room as Rochelle leans against the wall outside. I put my bathroom products on a shelf and grab a light sweater off my small bed. I peek out the door to make sure Rochelle isn’t looking and check under the mattress for the file folder I keep hidden. My paranoia gets the best of me every day but I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it.

I set the mattress back down and walk out of my tiny room, locking the door behind me.

“You know you don’t have to lock your door all the time. Unless you have something valuable in there?” she asks me with raised brows.

I shove her shoulder. “Really? You think I have something valuable. Have you seen me?”

Rochelle cackles, her laugh high-pitched and obnoxious. “I’m just playing, girl. You know none of us have shit except for the clothes on our backs.”

“And you’re twenty some odd pairs of fake lashes.” I joke.

She bats her lashes at me as we walk down the hall. “These things cost thirty fucking dollars. I ain’t leaving these at home when I need to get away.”

I stop in my tracks. “Maybe you should leave for good.”

She shakes her head at me. “Nope. Don’t you start with that.”

“Rochelle, come on. What happens if he doesn’t stop with your face? It could be an arm, your ribs. He could kill you.”

“He won’t.”

I look at her hands and see them curling into fists. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything again.”

She turns and starts walking to the common room and I follow. “So why do you lock the doors?” she asks again.

“Habit.” I shrug. “I did it as a kid to keep my siblings out. And I did it when I was married to keep my husband away from me.” The lies come out smooth and easy.

“Old habits die hard.” A flash of remorse crosses her eyes and I wonder if she is telling it to herself too.

* * *

I shut my bedroom door and turn the lock when I get back from girl’s night. I surprisingly had fun. I thought it would be a night of gossip and talking about our pasts. But instead we watched a rom-com and sipped from a secret bottle of tequila. This place doesn’t allow alcohol but one of the women had a hairbrush flask. I only had a few sips but the buzz gave me a forged sense of peace.

I pull my just past shoulder-length hair into a topknot. I miss my long hair. I miss the color. I miss a lot of things. Mostly my kids. But I am doing this for them. So they can be given a life they deserve.

I lift the thin mattress and pull the file out from underneath. There is a tiny desk in the corner of the room that I throw the file on. I pull my readers from my purse and sit at the desk. I turn on the cheap desk lamp as I pull the papers from the file.

I look over the sheet of numbers for hours until my vision goes cross-eyed. I came here to get help to decipher this code. I tried to when I was back home in Boston but I had no idea what I was doing. I contacted my friend, Dax. I went to Harvard with him and he is a mathematical genius. He used to work for a huge tech company doing app development and coding work but now he works for a private security company deciphering intelligence and whatever other weird shit they have him do.

When I got to San Diego, I went straight to him. I had been trying to reach him for weeks but couldn’t get through. He finally called me back ten days ago. He said he was out of the country but would be back within a week.

Now I sit here, waiting for his call so I can get answers. I majored in business and philanthropy. I am a goddamned senator’s wife who does charity work. Math was never my strong suit. Tell me to put together a charity gala to raise a minimum of twenty million dollars in seven days and I’ll do it in three. But this has my mind so twisted I am ready to call off my whole charade.

---