Page 73 of A Me and You Thing
I want to go home. I want to see my babies. I want Sawyer to hold me in his arms. I want the world to go away.
My hands are still shaking from the events of the afternoon. I can’t handle more. I’m going to get up tomorrow morning and catch the first flight I can get to the States.
I’m going home. No fuss. No fanfare.I’m outta here. I know I’m not thinking clearly, but I’m still petrified of being caught and sent back toTíaandTío. It’s illogical and I recognize that. It doesn’t matter though; the fear is real.
With the decision made, I strip out of my clothes and toss them in the garbage. I never want to see them again. On second thought, I remove the scarf from my jeans pocket. Although the urge is strong, I can’t throw it away. I hate it, but I decide to keep it. It will forever represent so much to me. It will serve as a constant reminder to be thankful for my life, to appreciate every second.
I stuff it in a pocket of my suitcase. I think it will be a while until I can look at it again. A long while.
My reflection in the mirror once again gives me pause. I don’t recognize this woman. My hair is too long and needs a good trim. My body is too skinny, with bones protruding at my hips and ribs. I stare at my hands, at my grimy, short stubby nails. They disgust me. I scrub my hands and clean my nails at the sink until I feel sanitized.
I step into the shower and luxuriate in the never-ending hot water until my muscles and joints relax. Quick cold showers were all I was allowed atTíaandTío’shouse. Once a week, because we could not wasteagua.
Water, I mean. We could not wastewater. At least, I couldn’t. Come to think of it, they took showers every day. My eyebrows furrow at the thought. I was the help, on the same level as the animals of the household. My mind was so foggy, I just never realized it.
After a thorough shampoo and deep conditioning of my hair, I switch to a bath. I’m so hairy, I feel repulsive. I spend the next hour shaving every part of me that has been begging to be shaved for a long while. Afterward, I ply myself with lotion until my entire body feels silky and smooth. I brush my teeth four times and rinse with the hotel provided mouthwash two times. I have nothing to sleep in, and naked feels much too vulnerable. I slip on my new bra and panties and wrap myself in the hotel provided robe. I climb into the king size bed, the sheets cool and comfortable, and I feel as though I’m ensconced in a private cocoon.
Then, and only then, do I allow myself to break down and cry. I cry so hard I think my skinny frame will break from the force. I cry because I can’t believe I survived my captive life while struggling with a severe head injury. Most of all I cry for the two years that have been lost to me. I miss my family and I have no idea what I will return to, or if I even have anything to return to anymore.
Home. Home is all I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Exhausted, I fall into a deep restorative sleep.
Chapter Twenty-five
Quinn
I AWAKEN BEFORE the sun is up. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it. I slept soundly and comfortably, the best I’ve slept in two years. My headache has softened. I’m ready to face the day.
I’m going home.
Those words are delicious. Absolutely delectable. This might be the most memorable day of my life, certainly one of the most important. The moment I arise from bed, my heart starts to race again, just as it had all day yesterday. I don’t think I will relax until I’m in Sawyer’s arms. After what I’ve been through, I think my fear and paranoia are founded.
The fog is lifting, though. I see and feel everything with so much more clarity now. It’s like my eyes have been opened and my understanding has been revived. It feels akin to waking from a long winter’s nap—and realizing you’re in the wrong bed and wrong house and you’re not quite sure how it happened. It’s the strangest feeling.
I take another shower and shave again. Smooth skin is my new favorite thing in the world. The white blouse and khaki pants fit fairly well for not trying them on, and they make me look fresh and cool. I part my hair to the side so the scar on my forehead is mostly covered by my thick mane. I pack all my purchases in my small suitcase, and I’m ready to go.
Before I open the door to the outside world, I pause and take several deep cleansing breaths. This hotel room has been a haven, a safe place where I was able to regroup. The next few steps toward my escape are vital. I don’t thinkTíaandTíohave the power to find me, but I don’t know what kind of connections they have.
What if I made a mistake in coming here? Maybe I should’ve gone straight to the American Embassy for protection.
I’m so close to freedom. I can’t give up now or focus on hindsight. I did what I did. Now I have to face the consequences.
Time to be strong. I can do this.
I breeze downstairs, acting confident and self-assured, as though I’m a world traveler who is extremely efficient at packing light.
I ask the front desk to call a taxi to take me to the airport. The young man is polite to a fault and eager to please.
I glide to my taxi and take a seat. “Aeropuerto, por favor.”
The driver doesn’t even glance at me in his rearview mirror. I surreptitiously wipe the nervous sweat from my forehead. I’m not sure what I think is going to happen. I keep imagining a couple of thugs grabbing me and stuffing me in their car while saying,“Thought you could escape, huh? No one gets away from Tía and Tío.”As if they’re a powerful cartel family or something.
I’ve seen too many movies.
They’re just an aging couple who needed help and took advantage of the opportunity that fell into their lap. It was wrong of them, but surely they’re not after me.
Right? Right. My brain fog really is clearing. I’m beginning to think rationally.
