Chapter Seventeen: Hannah

My weekends were always busy, taking care of errands, delivering leftover food to the homeless shelter down the street, and visiting my grandmother in the retirement home where Richie had dumped her. She was my mother’s mother, so she had no real money of her own, and Richie wasn’t about to share his. He did pay for the facility, but it wasn’t the best one in the city, though he could have easily afforded any facility in Chicago. I think Richie felt the need to punish our grandmother for abandoning us to our father when Mom died.

I never saw it as abandonment. I’d known my father pretty well, and though Richie got the brunt of his viciousness, Father’s lack of humanity and compassion extended to everyone he came into contact. Exceptions had never been made for two kids.

Richie hadn’t understood that our grandmother had little choice in our futures. Without any money or power or any other resources, she couldn’t fight for us. She became nothing more than a nuisance, and Father treated her as such. Now Richie did the same.

Still, I loved her, and if I ever got any money of my own—real money that could make a difference—I planned to help her in any way I could. In the meantime, though, the best I could do was visit, buy her yarn for her endless projects, and tell her my dreams and ambitions. I knew she would keep my secrets.

That weekend I told her about Danny. I wasn’t sure where our relationship would lead to, or even if we had a real one at this point, but it felt real. I needed to share it with someone.

By Sunday night I was exhausted, but I had an assignment to get done for an online class on Monday evening. I slogged through the course work, feeling like I’d rather be in bed, and when I finally finished at eleven thirty, I was planning to dive right into bed, put in my earplugs, and sleep in my cool apartment.

I saved everything on the flash drive and then went into the bathroom to put it with the others. I grabbed the box from the closet and immediately knew something was wrong. It was far too light.

My heart stopped. I sat on the toilet set and gingerly opened the carton. I felt as though I was defusing a bomb. Every muscle in my body was strung tight, and my nerves fired up, making my hands shake.

“No,” I whispered.

The cardboard tubes were empty.

The box fell from my hands, and tampons rolled across the cracked linoleum. I cupped my face, and hot tears scalded my hands. My mind went into overdrive as I thought of any way this could be possible. Maybe I’d moved them in my sleep. Maybe I’d been so paranoid that I’d decided another spot was better. Maybe, maybe, maybe. None of it made any sense.

“He found them…”

Mind racing, sweat dotting every inch of my skin, I thought back over the last few days. I’d put something in the box last Thursday. Friday I’d been with Danny. Could he have found them? No, he’d never been in the bathroom at all. What else had happened on Friday?

I’d woken up out of sorts, hot, cranky because…

“The AC was out.”

I got up on shaky legs and went back into the living room, glancing at the unit. After I complained about it to anyone who would listen, Carmen had come into the club with a work order, but now I realized Richie hadn’t been in the club Friday morning. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him all day. Where had the work order come from?

Frantically I glanced around my apartment, trying to see it with fresh eyes. Everything looked exactly as it always did. The books in their neat color-coded rows. The DVDs arranged on the shelves by genre. My desk holding the laptop and stapler and notepads. I ran back to the bedroom, flung open the drawers and the closet door, and studied everything. It appeared nothing had been touched. Yet I knew someone had ransacked everything. Someone had violated my privacy and stolen my possessions, but I was going to pay the price. It was just a matter of when and how.

“That son of a bitch.”

I jerked when someone pounded on my door. Swallowing hard, I ran my hands over my face to remove tearstains and then down my shorts to remove the sweat. I suddenly felt faint, and every dream I’d had in the last five years simply vanished like a puff of smoke.

“Open the goddamned door, Hannah,” Butch shouted. “Richie wants to see you.”

Richie, the stealer of dreams, the magic man who could take away hope, happiness, and ambition with a sweep of his manicured hand over a work order.

Oh yes. I was going to pay. The knock on the door had signaled the when. Now it was just a matter of how.