As she opens her wallet, Jenny has to stop herself from screaming. Slowly, so slowly, her trembling hand comes up to cover her mouth.
The money she saved so hard for—gone.
In its place, a note. I will always find you.
Jenny crumples it in her hand.
Despair jolts through her, causing her insides to spasm and lurch. She wants to puke. Vomit all over this table because she knows he knows. How? Tears burn her eyes. She must not have been as sneaky as she thought she was. Idiot, she tells herself. You’re an idiot.
What now? Go home? Never. She’ll never give Roy that satisfaction. She’d die first.
She’d die.
Her spirit broken, Jenny buries her face in her trembling hands.
She has nothing. She’s alone with no money, no ID, no friends, no one to turn to. All that’s waiting for her at home is her husband. Roy and his tiny, piggish eyes. Roy and his fists.
If she went home ...
She shudders at the thought.
Oh, Jenny, oh, my Jenny, Roy would always say, cradling her face in his brutish hands. Do you know what would happen if you left? Do you know what I would do to you if you walked out?
He’d kill her.
Christ, she can’t do this anymore. The fear. The confusion. The god-awful hopelessness.
She came here today with two plans. Plan A is fucked. So fucked.
But plan B. Well, that’s not a wash. That is something she still has power over. Jenny’s glazed eyes move to the raging sea outside. As she stares at the ocean, a sudden calm overcomes her.
There’s nothing about death that’s brave. But there is something brave about trying to get out of something that isn’t working. Jenny’s already living as a dead woman. She might as well make it permanent.
“What can I get you, hon?”
The waitress’s words make her jump. Jenny’s heart pumps like a small, timid beast inside her chest.
What can I get you?The question’s a loaded gun. Jenny wants to cry, maybe laugh. Everything, she could say. A life preserver, a new brain, a goddamn miracle.
Aware the waitress is waiting for a reply, Jenny rummages through her bag. “Oh, uh ... just coffee, please.” She finds a few meager coins left over from her bus fare and lays them on the table. She looks up at the waitress. “Do I have enough for that?” She winces at the desperation in her voice. But it’s the last thing she has left.
The waitress’s wise eyes flash with sympathy. “Of course, honey.” She shares a warm smile, then scribbles on her green notepad and moves to the next booth. Jenny bows her head and needles the hollow of her throbbing temple, knowing that the only person in the world she can trust is herself.