Page 32 of On the Rocks
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
No names. No faces. No memories.
Just blank.
I can’t stop the tears. I may be free, but still lost as ever. The librarian glances over. Pushing her now empty cart in my direction. Not a friendly face like the sales lady or shuttle driver. Stirring the attention to myself I didn't want. I hop up and race to the restroom. Locking myself in the last stall, I dab the rough tissue against my cheeks. Crying won't help. Not sure what actually will, but definitely not feeling sorry for myself. Or giving into the panic swelling inside me.
“I told her I wanted off on Monday." A muffled woman's voice floats through the air from far away. "But then she posted the schedule, and I’m on it. Now I have to call her. You know how much I hate talking to her.”
A rumbling creak echoes across the open space and then blackness engulfs me. I gasp but no one is here to hear me.
“She’ll probably make me work every weekend since she’ll be pissed about having to find a replacement. But I don’t care. I…”
The complaints fade away, and I feel for the lock. Gingerly stepping toward the door. Another screech from the hinges as I yank down the knob.
Darkness shrouds the entire floor. Lit only by the orange streaks of the fading sun cascading through the windows lining the front wall. I run past the unoccupied check-out desk to the front doors and shove against the handles. They don't budge. The red light blinking on the keypad under the adjacent bulletin board validates my assumption. Alarm is set too.
I'm locked in.
I should be terrified. Embarrassed for being so obtuse to the signs the library was closing. Confused as to why there isn't a meeting tonight like the trolley driver said. Instead, I'm soaring with relief.
Michael's locked out.
I'm alone until at least ten tomorrow morning, according to the operating hours etched on the glass. He can't get to me. Or hit me. Or yell at me. Or hurt me. For seventeen entire hours. I'm finally safe.
* * *
Ihangthe sweater back on the chair. Straightening the sleeves as if the navy cardigan never left its spot draped across the seat to help keep me warm in the middle of the night. I fluff the sofa cushions, straighten the scissors, return the broom to the hook, and throw away the plastic wrapper from my cheese crackers.
Guilt churns in my rumbling stomach from eating food that doesn't belong to me. I make another mental promise to replace the snack when I go to the store today. I have to spend as little as possible, but I refuse to be a thief.
Looking around the small break room, everything looks in order. Nothing disturbed or disrupted from my impromptu sleep over. No one ever able to tell I've been here. Satisfied with my cleaning, I return to the ladies room. Fumbling in the dark to sit in the last stall again.
Needing so much luck to pull this off. Hopeful that I can sneak out once other patrons start to fill the sofas and research tables. Praying that different employees staff the weekday hours.
I stroke the baby fine hairs on my newly uncovered neck. Feeling so light with the weight of my curls gone. My dress may be the same but with my homemade pixie cut there's still a chance I won't be remembered from yesterday.
No voices this time when the lights blink on. Just two brief moans of the door opening and closing in quick succession. I fight the urge to tiptoe out and run for it. I have to follow the plan.
Minutes that feel like hours pass before heels click on the tile, tapping louder than the soft groan. Once her black pumps stop in the stall next to me, I venture out. With a quick wash of my hands, I stride through the hall, out the front entrance, and down the wide steps. I don't run or glance back. Nothing to garner suspicion. Just one step after the other. Mile after mile until I reach the strip mall I found searching the city map last night.
I stick to my schedule. T-shirts, shorts, bras, and panties at the clothing store. Backpack, socks, and running shoes in the athletic department. He'll have to catch me if he wants me.
Shampoo, deodorant, soap, and toothbrush in the pharmacy. Deviating from my plan only long enough to brush my teeth in the store bathroom. After two days, I just couldn't wait any longer.
Food next, to satisfy my growling belly and repay my debt. I slow on the sidewalk, passing by colorful rows of images lining the windows of the shop beside the small market. Leafy flowers, entwined hearts, and smiley faces contrast with the flaming skulls, teeth baring tigers, and bloodied daggers. But I can't stop staring at a simple black and silver symbol. Wishing so hard I could remember what the sign means to me.
"We open in thirty minutes, and I can do that for you."
I jerk from the voice behind me. So engrossed in my contemplation, I never saw her come outside. Simultaneously winking and lighting the cigarette between her pierced lips as she reclines against the bench. Her purple hair accented with red tips, rustles in the breeze, setting off the intricate work covering every bit of her exposed skin except her face. "No, but thank you."
A slow nod. With her talent, she probably doesn't have to beg for customers. Even though if she pushed hard enough I would be swayed to let her ink me. Which is dumb because I only have five hundred and sixteen dollars left. Which is probably not like me at all because the only markings I have on me are from Michael. "I better go."
I point to the grocery like a moron. She doesn't care where I go or what I do.
But I can't stop thinking about the character. As I grab boxes of granola bars, bananas, cheese and crackers, and a small bottle of milk, I imagine where I would have it done. Only visible to the eyes I want to see it. Right now only seen by mine.
She's gone when I exit with my bags full of basic necessities. I drop down onto the seat where she relaxed before. Eating a bit of breakfast before I transfer my groceries to my knapsack. Still enthralled with the idea of that tattoo on my body.
