Page 34 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
I looked around, trying to recognize something, anything, but it was all wrong.In my memories, this town had been a blur of car windows and cigarette smoke, every trip bookended by the “house with the blue door.”We never stopped at the diner, or the store, or the sad little playground.There was just the drive, then the house, then the drive home.
“I don’t know,” I said, because it was true.“It all looks...smaller.”
Nick nodded.“Then let’s take a look around on foot and you tell me if you see something familiar.Just because I think this is the right town doesn’t mean it is.We might be looking in the wrong state.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, and started walking.
The sidewalks were cracked and bulged from tree roots, and the only sign of life was a lawnmower somewhere in the distance.I counted every step, then lost track and started over.When we reached the town square—really more of a lopsided triangle—I got a vague sense of familiarity.Not something I could put my finger on, but it felt like the right place.Then again, maybe all small towns looked like this.
I forced myself to look around, really look, and that was when I saw it: the old gazebo, paint peeled to the bone, the wrought-iron fence bent at both ends.And just across the street, the ice cream parlor— still open, somehow— with the same striped awning I remembered from a lifetime ago.
I stopped, breath catching in my throat.
“Hey,” Nick said, voice gentle.“What is it?”
I just stared at the awning, the colors faded but still there, and in a flash I remembered sitting in the car that first time, wondering where the hell we were going without my sisters, wishing we could stop for ice cream but knowing I’d feel guilty if I had some and they didn’t.
Nick followed my gaze to the shop.“Familiar?”
I nodded.“It’s more faded, but it’s the same one.”
“Have you been inside?”
I let out a sad laugh.“No.He didn’t bring me here for ice cream.”
Nick didn’t say anything to that.Just stood next to me, quiet and solid, letting me absorb it on my own terms until I was ready to walk again.
The main street turned residential; the houses pressed close together, each one clinging to the illusion of privacy behind scraggly hedges and leaning mailboxes.I looked for anything blue, but every door was white or brown.
We turned down another street to walk back toward the town square, but as soon as we rounded the corner, I saw a man standing by the post office across the street.He was maybe thirty, wearing khakis and a golf shirt.He smoked a cigarette with the bored efficiency of a man who’d done nothing else for decades.
The way he flicked the cigarette, the tilt of his head, his eyes tracking passing cars.The world tunneled down to that one figure, and suddenly I was a kid again.Someone was telling me to “just let it happen, and it’ll be over quicker.”
My hands started to shake.I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
Nick noticed immediately.“What is it?”he asked, voice low.
I stared, unable to blink.“That man,” I said.“I know him.”
Nick didn’t ask how.He just followed my gaze, then very casually pulled his phone and snapped a picture.Then the man ground his cigarette into the concrete and walked inside the post office.
I couldn’t move.I couldn’t breathe.The whole world narrowed to a pinpoint.
Nick put a hand on my elbow and steered me away from the street, down an alley behind the bakery.I let him guide me, my feet barely touching the ground.When we stopped, I pressed my back to the wall and gulped air like I’d just resurfaced from a deep dive.
Nick positioned himself between me and the mouth of the alley, blocking the view.I tried to steady my hands, but they wouldn’t cooperate.
“It’s okay,” Nick said, voice steady.“You’re safe.I won’t let anyone touch you.”
I nodded.“I’m sorry.”
Damn it.I should’ve been ready for this.Of course, if I went to a town where it all happened, I might run into someone who...someone from the house.
Nick shook his head.“Don’t be.You did well.Just focus on me, on the sun on your face, on the smell from the bakery.You’re here with me.”
After a few minutes, my pulse slowed.I focused on the chipped bricks, the smell of yeast and powdered sugar, the weight of Nick’s body between me and the rest of the world.That was enough to tether me.
When I could speak, I said, “He’s not the same.Too young, maybe.But he looks like one of them.”
