by L. L. Akers
They must’ve turned the air down very low to make it as uncomfortable as possible in the jail cells—further punishment. It was everything she could do not to ask for a blanket from the guard, but no one else had one and she wouldn’t be the first to complain. For all she knew, maybe they’d already asked before she’d gotten there and was told no. The other ladies looked cold too. And she had to pee. But there was no way she was squatting on that freezing, disgusting metal toilet in plain sight of everyone. She tried to just not think about it as she sat all the way down, stretched her legs out, and then crossed them, squeezing her thighs together against the hard floor. She gasped as the coldness of the concrete touched her bare skin.
It seemed like hours since she’d been processed—a humiliating experience of fingerprinting, mug shots, and disapproving stares. She’d been charged with under-age drinking and driving under the influence. Where the hell is Gabby? Maybe she was taking so long to get her out because she was trying to argue the charges. Emma hoped Gabby hadn’t slid into one of her episodes and couldn’t make it there. Her thoughts kept drifting off to Gabby and the accident that had changed their lives six weeks ago, filling it with shock and grief, until Emma hadn’t been able to stand it... and had tried to drown out the thoughts with booze. You’re an idiot, she scolded herself in her head. Like our family really needs this on top of everything else right now. Way to go, Emma. Her thoughts drifted away...
CHAPTER 6
“Olivia, it was my fault,” Gabby finally said, after her weeping had rolled through her, leaving her weak. Her words still sounded as if they were struggling to get out.
Olivia continued to run her fingers through Gabby’s hair, gently trying to untangle the knots as she came to them, as she’d been doing for the last ten minutes that Gabby had been releasing the pent-up emotion. She thought of Emma, then pushed her to the back of her mind. It was good that Gabby was finally talking—Emma would have to wait.
Olivia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Gabby took three quick jagged breaths, crying breaths, reminding Olivia of when they were little girls and always knew when the other had been crying... It was always followed by that three-breath intake—they called it The Crying Sigh—no matter how quiet the actual weeping had been. But Olivia wasn’t sure it was over yet. She couldn’t see Gabby’s face, but she could still feel her body shuddering against her.
“No, Gabby. It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault. It was an accident, that’s all,” Olivia whispered in her ear. “You have survivor’s guilt. Google it. You haven’t gotten over it because you haven’t really talked about it. Just tell me. I’ll listen. Just between me and you,” she promised.
Gabby continued to cry, her racking sobs shaking the bed, hot torrents of grief finally breaking through the dam. Olivia silently held her. She knew this process was just as important as actually talking. In worry for her sister, she’d spent hours on the internet, researching post-traumatic stress disorder, hoping to find something that would finally break through to Gabby. She’d known for six weeks Gabby had been on autopilot and Olivia had been warned not to push. But it was time—time for Gabby to live again.
When Gabby was all cried out, Olivia got up and walked around to the other side of the bed where she knelt down to face her sister. She wiped Gabby’s face, using the wadded up edge of the sheet, which looked like it needed a good washing too. “Gabby, I’m going to make us a cup of hot tea. Please get up and take a shower. You’ll feel better if you do. Put on some clean, comfy clothes, and let’s talk.”
Olivia didn’t give her a chance to answer. She walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, deciding to attack the mound of dirty dishes that Gabby had let stack up.
Geesh, Gabby, Olivia thought to herself, looks like you’ve been living on two-minute food... No wonder you’re so thin. One minute to open and put in a bowl, one minute to heat. There were dozens of bowls and plates with remnants of canned Spaghetti-O’s and ravioli... and soup. It was unlike Gabby to even have a dirty dish; her home was usually immaculate. It looks like I got here just in time. If you’re letting the house go, it won’t be long before you follow.
Twenty minutes later, Gabby came into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her hair. Although she was now at least five or ten pounds underweight, she looked shiny and new and smelled fresh and clean.
“Hey, you didn’t have to do that,” she said as she noticed the absence of the mess.
Olivia folded the dish towel, hanging it over the cabinet door to dry. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Looks like you could use a little help catching up around here. Let me warm up our tea.”
She poked at the on button on the microwave, leaning against the counter to wait while Gabby looked around the clean kitchen, then quickly grabbed a handful of paper towels and Windex and took a swipe at the water splatters on the window in front of the sink.
Olivia had splashed the window while washing the dishes. Gabby rubbed hard at the splatters, embarrassed that Olivia had cleaned up her messy kitchen and trying to find anything left undone. Gabby knew she hadn’t thanked her yet, but the words stuck to her tongue and refused to come out. Suck it up, Gabby. You’d do the same if you found Olivia in a mess at her place. Put your pride aside, she thought to herself. She tossed the wad of paper towels in the trash and turned around, leaning against the counter facing Olivia.
“So Emma’s drinking again?” Gabby asked, trying to divert the subject to their little sister. She’s in a bigger mess than I am.
“Yeah. Sounds like it... but I’ll deal with her in the morning. They said there’s nothing we can do until then anyway. You can have a pass on this one if you’ll talk to me tonight.” Olivia negotiated.
The microwave dinged and Olivia opened it, handing Gabby one cup and carefully taking the other to the living room, where Gabby followed her. Gabby saw her glance at the couch, covered in a nest of throws and pillows haphazardly thrown all over, with her stack of books teetering beside it on the floor. She stepped past the mess and took the only other chair in the living room.
Gabby set her tea on the table between her and Olivia and plopped down on top of the throws, pulling one over her legs before picking her tea back up and blowing away the tendrils of steam. She peeked at Olivia over the top of her cup, studying her. Maybe I can get away with just taking a shower and sharing tea if I can keep her talking about Emma. Then I can climb back into bed, Gabby thought.
Olivia cleared her throat and shook her head. “Gabby, I know that look, and I know what you’re thinking... but there’s no getting around it this time, sister. Spit it out. What’s holding you back?”
Gabby rolled her eyes and took another sip of her tea, then stared straight ahead trying to sort out her thoughts. Why is this so hard to say? That night should be easy to describe, Gabby thought. It isn’t like I don’t replay it in my mind at least a dozen times a day. She swallowed and cleared her throat and then tried to begin. The words stuck again. She took in a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling, and slowly let it out.
She made eye contact with Olivia again, staring without blinking. “Okay, Olivia, but this stays between us. Promise?”
Olivia gave a nod. That was enough for them both.
“The night of the accident...” Gabby began. “That night, I told Jake everything about René, all the missing pieces. He didn’t ask me—and he never pushed me to tell him—but until then, all I’d really told him was about how it first happened... and then about the last time it happened. So after freaking out at the restaurant, I needed him to know. I wanted him to understand how I could be so manipulated and scared that I let it go on six months and why I’m still so paranoid and afraid, even though it’s over.”
Gabby paused. Olivia sat quietly, blowing and sipping her own tea. Gabby knew she was trying not to interrupt. She also knew Olivia wanted to know about that night, and Gabby wanted to tell it, get it off her chest. Why not to Olivia?
They were close, best friends who could talk about anything—had always talked about everything—since they were old enough to talk. But so far, since the accident, she’d been unable to tell Olivia, or anyone, what really happened. Olivia deserved to know. She’d put in enough time babysitting Gabby since then. It was only fair.
She took another deep breath and began. “We’d planned our regular date night, dinner and a movie. But Jake wanted to go to the city for a change. He unintentionally chose a restaurant near my old job, the same job where René used to work. I didn’t mention it, and I tried not to think about it. I thought I’d put it behind me. I’d been doing good for so long, Olivia. But at the restaurant, I thought I saw him—René.”
Gabby felt a chill run down her spine, remembering her shocked fear from that night. She wrapped her fingers tighter around her warm cup.
“The waiter brought out our entrée and set Jake’s on the table. Then he reached to put mine down, and I thought I caught sight of René a few tables behind the waiter, staring dead at me. I panicked and jumped up, knocking the food out of the waiter’s hand, and I ran.”
Gabby shook her head. “It was a disaster. I could hear the plate hitting the table, glass breaking—people gasping out loud—but I kept running. I just left Jake sitting there alone and probably embarrassed to death. He paid for the meal and then came outside to find me. I didn’t have the keys so I couldn’t get in the car.”
Gabby looked at her sister. She probably thinks I’m crazy, she thought. “I was so scared, Olivia. I just knew it was René. I acted like a complete idiot. Jake walked all around calling out for me, and when he finally got close enough, I answered him. He found me hiding behind the dumpster on the side of the building, shaking and sniveling like a baby.”
Gabby paused again and took a shuddering breath. She unwrapped her wet hair, taking a few long moments to furiously finger-comb through it—pulling out knots—as if she were pulling on the tangles of the bad memory. She balled up the towel, hugging it to herself as she began again.
“Jake was almost as upset as I was to see me that way again. I wouldn’t leave the dumpster. I refused to walk to the car. I was convinced it was René, and I didn’t want him to see what kind of car we got in. Jake didn’t know if it was or wasn’t him; he hadn’t seen him at all. So he waited there with me, all dressed up, hiding behind that stinky trash for almost an hour, holding me while I blubbered and sniveled that René was following us, that it was all going to start over again. I was convinced he was going to get me and take me to that damn wooden box in his cabin he’d threatened me with—or hurt Jake. I was a mess.”
Gabby took another deep breath and slowly blew it out through her lips, settling her nerves a little.
“Jake kept trying to reason with me, so then I got angry. I thought he wasn’t taking me seriously, that he thought I was being melodramatic. I kept peeking around the dumpster to see who was leaving every time I heard something. Finally, the man I thought was René came out, but I’m still not sure it was him.”
Olivia looked shocked. “Oh, Gabby. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
Gabby shook her head, thinking if Olivia thought that was bad...
“That’s not the worst of it. There’s more. We finally got in the car—we still hadn’t eaten—and Jake said we’d go somewhere else. I refused, saying I just wanted to go home. He said he couldn’t let me go back to hiding. That I needed to accept it was over and that René wasn’t looking for me. He got onto the interstate and started driving, and I started talking...”
Gabby’s voice faltered as she realized she was about to tell Olivia things she’d only said out loud once before, and that had ended tragically. She took another long drink of her tea to wet her dry throat.
“Olivia, I told Jake details I’ve never said out loud... even in group. I told him about how I continued to come to work. I was so confused and afraid not to... because of the book he threatened me with, The Girl in the Box. Jake knew about the book. He’d found it after that night in the hospital and hid it from me. But he never read it. I explained to him how that girls’ captor tortured her into submission with live spiders thrown into her box... and René had mirrored the threat in his own way, knowing I had probably read the book the weekend before, by throwing a huge live spider on my desk as he walked by my office.”
Gabby’s entire body shuddered. “You know how afraid of spiders I am, Olivia. René did too. I’d always freaked out when anyone found a spider at the office. Everybody there knew I was terrified of spiders.
“It was only a few days later he got the opportunity to corner me again, this time in the back of the stock room while the guys were out to lunch. No one could hear me back there. He sent me an instant message from the shipping guy’s computer, asking me to come back there for a moment to answer a question. When I walked back to the warehouse, it was René. He asked me how I liked the spider. I tried to get away from him, but he was too strong...” Gabby’s voice trailed off as she stared into space, and a silent tear raced down her face, dripping off in escape.
“The sick bastard threatened me constantly—threatened to burn my face or burn all my hair off... blind me... He told me if I didn’t continue to come to work and keep our secret, he would do all sorts of horrible things. At that point I was numb, and I think he knew he was pushing me so far I didn’t care about myself anymore, so then he started threatening to do things to Jake. I was more scared for Jake than I was myself. He was like a Jekyll/Hyde. He said he’d mail Jake a graphic letter about having an affair with his wife, twist it to make it sound like I was willing and wanted it. I believed he’d do it... and I’m ashamed to say I was worried that Jake would believe him. Or worse, he said he’d arrange an accident for Jake or make him disappear. Olivia, this man was truly a sociopath, maybe even a psychopath. He was a monster, and I truly believed he would do everything he said.”
Gabby finished her tea and uncovered her legs. She knew Olivia could see she was working up a sudden sweat, reliving the night of Jake’s death, but she silently thanked Olivia for keeping quiet, giving her the space to talk it out.
“So I explained all this to Jake... why I kept going to work. I was too scared not to. But I tried other ways to keep him away from me or to make him lose interest. I really did. I started wearing dress slacks every day—never skirts. He still managed. I quit bathing, thinking I would disgust him. He didn’t care. He said if I was in the box I wouldn’t smell too clean anyway. I tried to get out of it, to make it stop before Jake found out and I lost him forever. I tried to find a way out that would make him choose to stop, to not want me... but he was a disgusting, vile man.
“I even scheduled that surgery on my feet that I really didn’t have to have—at least not right away. I thought if I asked for time off, instead of quitting or telling, that I could get six weeks away from René, and I could figure something out during that time. My medical leave was approved, but he didn’t leave me alone. Three weeks after the surgery, he came to the house. He was standing right there on the front porch with a bunch of flowers. Jake was at work. He beat on the door and threatened to stay there until Jake came home and tell Jake we were having an affair if I didn’t let him in. I didn’t know what to do. I let him in. I thought he wouldn’t do anything to me in that condition. But I was wrong. He wouldn’t stay away. He forced himself on me here... on this floor, Olivia. It’s not like I could’ve run away from him. He was there just to remind me he knew where I lived. And that if I didn’t come back to work after my medical leave, he’d just come get me—or Jake—so I went back.”
Gabby took in another deep breath and held it a moment and then let it out. “That’s why I tried to kill myself.”
Olivia raised her eyebrow, her forehead crinkling together, making three long worry lines. Gabby wondered if her forehead looked just like Olivia’s right now. She wished she could just think the rest of the story from her mind across the lines on her face and have Olivia read it across her he
ad; the rest would be the hardest to say aloud.
“I told Jake all of this while he drove. He had no idea before then that René had ever been to our house. I kept talking and crying, and crying and talking, while Jake drove on, looking straight ahead. I was rambling on about all the horrible things René had done and all the terrifying threats he had made against Jake and me, and I didn’t shut up. I probably gave him too many details. You know how I get. Once I start, I just keep on talking and talking and talking... I was finally getting it all out. I didn’t ever pause, and I was too ashamed to look at him while talking about it. I was so full of that shame and needed to get it out, share it with Jake, so there was nothing left unsaid between us. If I had only looked at him... before it was too late.”
“Why, Gabby? What difference would that have made? Looking at him wouldn’t have stopped the accident,” Olivia said, confused.
“It might have, Olivia. Just before the accident, I finally did look at Jake. He had been crying for me—with me—silent tears. His face was soaked. His nice shirt was wet. Tears were running rivers down his face, dripping off his jaws. He hadn’t wiped his eyes or his face or even so much as sniffled... probably afraid I would see and stop saying what I needed to say.”
Gabby’s voice broke and she stopped a moment to gather her breath.
“His nose was running right over his lips, his face was red and covered in tears, and his eyes were glassy with more tears threatening to flow over. His hands were shaking—his whole body was shaking. He was trying to hold it all in, trying to be so strong so I could purge, that he didn’t move a muscle to wipe his own face. I told him, Oh my God, Jake... let me get you a Kleenex. I reached down to my purse to get the Kleenex, and when I looked up, we were heading straight toward the concrete barrier wall. Jake couldn’t see. He was blinded by grief.”
