Page 18 of The Doctor's Twins

To my amazement, he waved me through. As he did so, the pile of junk I was driving stalled.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I tried to start it, but all I got was a succession of splutters. I looked at the guard with controlled panic. I tried several times without success. I panicked when another guard started walking toward us.

“Come on, you piece of shit,” I mumbled under my breath as I kept turning the key in the ignition.

Please, please, please!

One more turn. And there it was! The engine roared to life and not a moment too soon. I waved an apology and got the hell out of there without burning tracks of rubber into the tar. Once I was safely within the US borders, I got out of the car, kicked a sizable dent in the driver’s side door, and destroyed my cell phone and the sim card. Next, I drove to the first store I could find and bought a burner phone to call a cab.

My folks lived near the border, but I couldn’t go there as it was the first place Mateo would look for me. It was just after 6 am when I booked into a motel, utterly exhausted.

The room was adequate—a generous assessment—but I was there to crash for a few hours before I made my way to New York. I wanted to put as much distance between me and my psycho husband as possible, and I’d always wanted to see the Big Apple.

I made a tidy profit when I sold my Mercedes, which gave me enough cash to keep me going for a few months. The dealer must have thought I was nuts when I asked him for a cashier’s check, but I turned on the charm and told him some bullshit story. I was sure the bruises on my face nudged the odds in my favor.

It was imperative that I found a job as soon as I was settled. Perhaps there was a residency available at one of the many hospitals in New York. I wasn’t going to burden my parents with my lot. I should have been more careful in the first place.

Hindsight was a fickle bitch.

I had so much on my mind that it felt as if my world was spinning. So, I lay down on the bed, covered myself with a blanket, and fell asleep. Before I did, I activated the burner phone I’d purchased at the border. After all, I needed a phone to call 911 if Mateo were to burst through the rickety motel bedroom door.

A crashing sound woke me up. I sat bolt upright, and I looked around in a panic, expecting to see someone hovering over me with a gun aimed at my head. Thankfully, I was alone. The noise was coming from the room next to mine. A man’s voice was trying to placate that of a scolding woman. She was obviously throwing things at him. Been there.

I looked at my watch. It was just after 8 pm. I’d slept through most of the day, and if given half the chance, I’d easily sleep through another. But there was no time for such luxuries. I had to put a whole lot of gone between Mateo and myself, so I got up and freshened up before I called a cab to take me to the airport.

I bought a flight ticket, cash, to New York, after which I sat down to a meal in an airport coffee shop. I wasn’t starving, but I knew I had to put something into my stomach, or I’d become lightheaded.

I wondered while I ate if my baby was okay. Up to that point, I’d forced myself not to give it too much thought. Survival was my main concern. I’d landed really hard on the concrete floor when Mateo threw me down the stairs, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that babies were far more resilient than we gave them credit for.

Instinctively, I ran my hand across my belly. I wasn’t far along in my pregnancy, so my stomach was pretty flat, but it was a comforting action, nonetheless.

It’s going to be okay, my little angel. Daddy won’t hurt us anymore.

My flight was boarding, so I paid the bill and made my way to check in. I decided to call my family once I was safely in New York. It was going to take time to eat humble pie and explain to them that I’d made a colossal error in judgment. Mateo was a master manipulator. I had to give him that. He even had my folks fooled.

I was heartbroken. Not just for myself, but for what might have been. The two women who had fallen for the same coldhearted man, now dead and dismembered in his basement, must have had the same regrets as they realized they were about to die. I felt awful for their families. Surely, the cruelty of killing someone’s child was only superseded by keeping their parents from getting closure.

I couldn’t imagine what my parents would have done had I suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. It’s the never knowing that eventually kills a father and a mother. Human beings need closure. They need to say goodbye to the dead. I didn’t think it was possible to hate Mateo more. I was wrong.

I had five hours of flying time to plan a life without Mateo. Lula was no doubt wondering where I’d gone and why she couldn’t get in touch with me. She was the only one in Mexico I would miss. I prayed that Mateo wouldn’t hurt her. He was desperate, and desperate men did desperate things.

* * *

JFK airport was teeming with people. It was comforting to hear my mother tongue being spoken. I was getting pretty good at speaking and understanding Spanish, but I knew I wasn’t there quite yet. You know you are a native when you start to think in the language you’re speaking, and I was still very much an American.

I needed to be careful as I had a ton of cash on me. Would I put it in a bank and wait for Mateo to find me that way? Hell, no! I’d ask Alyssa to open an account for me in her name and use that instead.

I used the web to look for a suitable place to stay in the meanwhile. There was a quaint little apartment advertised, so I called the letting agent and made an appointment to view it. I got lucky as she told me she could meet me there within the hour. I grabbed my modest bag of worldly goods and hailed a cab.

“It’s perfect,” I told her once I’d made up my mind.

“Wonderful. I need you to fill out a few forms and then it’s yours,” she smiled.

“How soon can I move in?”

“Right away, I would think. As soon as the paperwork is done.”

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