Stella

My breath is trapped somewhere beyond survival.

My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach.

My feet won’t walk.

I’m unable to move at all or think . . . flight.

What feels like hours since Josh’s father entered the room has been seconds at best. The room is still full with guests slowly filing out and moving down the hall to feed into the dining room. Like a leaf floating on the surface of a mightier river, my body flows with the tide.

Can I blend in?

Can I leave?

The front door is farther away than before as we’re led into the large room with the crystal chandelier and seating for twenty. At the edge of the entrance, I turn before I’m seen.

“Ms. Fellowes, please join us.” Hearing him speak reminds me of how little he did before he slammed me to the desk. “I’ve made sure you’re sitting next to me, so we can get to know each other better.”

I pretend not to hear him and take a step, but an arm loops through mine, and Mrs. Baird says, “Are you looking for the restroom? I need the powder room myself. Right this way.”

Glancing back before I’m dragged away, I find “the boss” is not pleased. Mrs. Baird is talking about the wallpaper that decorates the hall as we walk down to the bathroom. We enter a small sitting area where she lifts a tissue canister and pulls out a lipstick. “I hide my lipsticks around the house so I can freshen up quickly, but they’re hidden from view.” Looking at me in the reflection of the mirror, she offers, “You’re welcome to use my red, but the shade you’re wearing is so lovely. What’s the brand?”

“I don’t know. It’s from the grocery store.”

“Oh. Well, if we can save money and get a pretty shade, I’m all for it.” Pointing behind me, she adds, “The water closet is that door.”

I set my clutch down and turn around as if instructed to go into the room that has enough space not to feel crammed. As I attempt to pee, though I didn’t need to, I hope she can’t hear me. I hope she leaves. Should I stay in here long enough for her to return to her guests? If I do, I can slip out the front door.

The wood door is solid. I can still hear her voice but don’t understand what she’s saying. I listen hard to the silence and start counting in my head. She can’t leave her guests for long. I decide to wait her out.

Long minutes pass and I think the coast is clear. I flush the toilet to finish the act I’m performing and open the door. Relieved to see the coast is clear, I close the door and jump when I find her sitting on the pink padded bench. She stands. “I was worried about you. Do you have an upset stomach? I can get you something.”

Tears well in my eyes as I realize there’s no getting away. Unless I plan to tell her about her psychotic husband, which will put me, Meadow, and my father in harm’s way, I have to play along with this charade. “Yes, I have an upset stomach. My apologies. I think I should go—”

“Oh no. Please. We have a lovely meal. The soup might settle it.”

I move to the sink and start washing my hands as she stands with worry drawing her eyes to the door. Then her eyes go wide, and she smiles. “I have just the thing. It’s a little concoction my butler whips up for me sometimes. It’s a shot of goodness for your intestinal tract. That’s such an awful name, but let’s get you a little shot and join the party. Soup should be served, and I have it on good authority that it’s delicious.”

Moments later, I down a shot glass of dark brown liquid. I don’t even care what it is at this point. It can’t hurt me . . . unlike her husband. We enter the dining room to some quip she’s come up with to amuse her guests as she takes her seat at the other end of the table. Among the laughter, I walk the dreaded mile to my seat next to Mr. Baird, and oh joy, across from Josh.

“The boss” stands and pulls my chair out for me. I go through the motions though I’m feeling less in my body by the ticking second. When he scoots me forward, he whispers, “Your hair is lovely when worn down.”

My head spins, and my eyes close as I try to erase the memory of his hands on me and that night completely.

Brown doesn’t open the door. He doesn’t even bother to get out of the Camry. I reach over the car seat and pull the handle to release the door. Pushing it open, I try to steady myself, but my legs are wobbly, so I take off my shoes and work my way out of the car on my own. I’m unsure of the state of my mind, not knowing what to think, what to say, if anything.

As I stand in front of my car in the school parking lot, I realize too late that I didn’t catch the license plate before they left. I open my car and sink into the seat, locking myself in. Starting the engine, I push the radio button, and turn up the music so loud that no one else can hear me scream. So loud that I lose my voice in the metal that’s blaring through the speakers. It’s the only thing that drowns out the many voices on repeat in my head. It’s my escape. The only escape I know.

I return to the apartment and am glad Meadow is working a late shift tonight, which is one of the reasons I chose tonight to fulfill the deal.

Under the hot water, I scrub my body inside and out, and then again. My skin is raw and red, inflamed and sore between my legs. I don’t realize how hard I’ve scrubbed since my skin is numb until drops of blood hit the base of the tub and slide down the drain.

When I get out, lotion stings so I skip my normal routine and slip on a pair of loose fitting boxer shorts so they don’t cling. I’ve had these forever. They’re my favorite pair, and when I see the pattern, I remember how good they once looked on the original owner. I shouldn’t think of him. I don’t have that right anymore.

He got everything he ever wanted once he left me, but I fell apart without him. I’m not bitter about his success. In some twist of fate, his success brings me happiness, as if I still hold a small part of his heart with me. I hold more, but it’s not healthy for me to think about it.

Sliding on a T-shirt and flip-flops, I grab the trash and walk to the dumpster behind the apartment building. I throw the dress and shoes inside and toss a full trash bag from the kitchen on top to bury them hopefully forever. I stand there staring at the flies that nest on the metal edge, but the stench is lost on my senses. Numb. I’m numb to the experience, feeling more like I belong here than the fairy tale I once lived.

Rivers and I never needed more money than we had. We got by, and we loved. With our whole hearts, we loved so hard. Sometimes, I forget what caused our pain. Sometimes, I relive it. Everyday, I wish I would have done things differently, let him plead his case, and let him back in. My heart is resilient, but that day never came. Once he tried and then he didn’t again.

I walk back to the apartment and lie on the couch, hoping to put this night behind me like a bad dream. Aches and pains are felt from my heart on the inside to my skin that feels raw on the outside. I thought I was doing what was best, but I struggle to find a silver lining in the destructive choice I was given. There’s nothing to feel proud about other than I left with my soul intact despite that monster’s best efforts to steal it.

Tomorrow I’ll tell my dad I negotiated so the interest rate and the balance were dropped. That I saved him from a fate that would have taken him from us forever. He’ll see the error of his ways. He’ll get sober and clean up his life. He’ll love me because I gave him a second chance. And hopefully, we’ll get our father back.

My heart starts beating after a long night of stillness. This was the right thing to do. Feeling like maybe we might be okay, I pick up the phone and take another gamble. He’s been on my mind so much lately. I wonder if all these years later he ever thinks of me.

The name sits proudly at the top of my screen. With my finger hovering over the call button, the front door opens, and Meadow walks in. “Tonight sucked big time.”

I lower the phone to my side, hiding who I was about to call as she strolls past me being her dramatic self. “The tips were horrible, and some asshole came in right before I was about to get off and requested my section.” She rolls her eyes. “Perv. He sat there drinking a coffee and staring at me. Told me I should wear my hair down, using a line about how lovely it is when worn down.” She kicks off her shoes and puts her hands on her hips. “Know what I told him?”

The beats of my heart fade away as my mind connects the dots. I sit in stunned silence while she says, “How would you know? I tightened my topknot in a fuck you manner if that’s even possible and clocked out.” Going into the kitchen, she pulls out a can of cream soda and pops the top, causing me to jump. “On edge much?” She takes a drink, and then asks, “What’d you get up to tonight?”

“Nothing. Trash,” I mumble. I achieved nothing tonight. And he has made sure I know that. How had I been so naïve? I try to muster the anger I held on to for years and hate Rivers for hurting me. I was stronger that way, not weak like I feel now. He deserves someone better than a girl who’s not better than another man’s trash.

“What?”

I clear my phone and turn it off. “I took the trash out.”

“Wow. That sounds eventful,” she replies sarcastically. Then she adds, “Sorry about Rivers.”

Sitting straight up, I ask, “What? What do you mean? What happened?”

“Well, I know you have a silence pact when it comes to hearing news about him, but it broke my heart to see him with that model.”

Oh. At first, I was relieved she couldn’t read my mind, but now I feel my own heart severing from the news. “Model?”

“Yeah, she was walking in the Victoria’s Secret runway show last night. Rivers was there.”

I rush to the bathroom and vomit, my body also pushing out the tears I should have cried while being violated. I had more to be concerned about than my heart at the time. Of course, he’s with a model. Someone beautiful. Someone pure. Now the broken heart I’ve nursed for years has become the least of my concerns. The man I thought would be my forever is most definitely gone now. Everything is gone. My heart. My pride. My soul.

. . .“Do you not like the soup, Ms. Fellowes?”

My gaze lifts to find Mr. Baird staring at me with a spoon in front of his mouth. My spoon still rests to the side of the bowl, untouched. I don’t respond but keep my eyes down.

Brian, who is sitting in the middle of the table, says, “Ms. Fellowes.” I look his way, struggling to hide the contempt I have for him. He adds, “Has been a wonderful addition to the Rostinal team. Although I’ve only been there four years and her two, we’ve worked hard to make the best environment for your future CEOs.”

The last part earns him a laugh. He goes on to say, “We would like to thank you on the behalf of the school not only for hosting us tonight but also for the significant donation.”

Mr. Baird says, “Is that a subtle hint to hand over the check, Teller?” Another round of laughs. He stands, placing his napkin beside his plate. “Ms. Fellowes will accompany me to the office, and we’ll take care of business now so we can enjoy the rest of the night.” I want to suggest he take Brian with him, but I’m still in shock. I have no words. How is this real?

Baird points at the man he intends to put into office and teases, “Don’t delve too deep into politics while I’m gone.” The future state representative, as well as the sheep around this table, start clapping after the entertainment by their host.

He pulls my chair back and then stands with his elbow out, waiting on me to take it. “Josh, join us.”

I shouldn’t have had that GI cocktail. My stomach churns as everyone stares, waiting for me to take the arm of my enemy. I have to leave.

As we round the corner, my hand falls to my side, my clutch held tightly in the other. We walk toward the front door with his son behind us. I stay straight, walking to the door when he turns to go to his office. I know he won’t make a scene, and there’s nothing he can say to keep me here.

“Your father has racked up another large debt.”

Except that.

Shit.