The Wrong Side of Rock Bottom

by Jennifer Foor

  Sadie is gone. She’s going to go to jail for murder and there isn’t anything I can do to help her. She sacrificed herself for us. She gave us a chance, while giving up her own freedom. It’s a lot to take in, especially when my feelings for her are so damn complicated already.

  I drive for three hours until my daughter wakes up. When I pull over to tend to her I’m frustrated and feeling guilty. My child’s smile puts my mind temporarily at ease, though I know I won’t be able to shake the ill feelings I have regarding Sadie and why she did what she did.

  There’s a good possibility we will never see her again. For more reasons than I care to admit, I’m saddened by this realization. I’m not codependent by any means, but in the time we spent on the run I came to enjoy her being with us. All of her lies aside, somewhere in that messed up girl was a good heart. She took care of my baby when I wasn’t able to. I’ll have to live my life appreciating that much, and also the fact that she gave me the perfect diversion to be free. I’m forever indebted to her.

  Driving through Mexico, and onto Costa Rica proves to be difficult. I knew I had to keep an extra gas tank in case we’d go for miles without seeing a service station, but at night it’s damn near impossible to drive at all. It’s not just dark. There is freaking livestock roaming everywhere. The first night I came within inches of hitting a cow. The second night we swerved to avoid several goats. By the third night I decided to sleep in the car and wait until I could see to start again.

  It takes me eight days to make it the two thousand miles. It would have gone faster if I didn’t need to stop and take breaks, or care for Mila, who is so tired of being in a car I think she hates me.

  We’re exhausted, dirty, and famished by the time we make it to the real estate office in Costa Rica. I meet the nice older Hispanic woman I spoke to weeks ago regarding the rental properties. Telling her the story of my wife passing away, she takes us under her wing, sets us up in a resort to get some rest, and makes an appointment to pick out our new home in the morning.

  Being in a hotel again makes me think of Sadie. While Mila plays in the tub, I turn on the news to see if they have any American speaking channels. The national news station comes up on the screen, while I sit on the edge of the bed hoping I’ll catch something about Sadie. There is nothing on her capture or the case, not even on the news ticker. Apparently I’ve missed it being announced, and will probably never find out what happened to the girl I owe of all of this to.

  It takes me two days to find the perfect place for my little girl to call home. In the center of a tropical paradise outside of La Cruz, we find a two-bedroom home that is fully furnished. Paying the security deposit and first month rent leaves me with around five hundred dollars to our name until I can secure a job. Thankfully, the people in the town are very kind. The realtor gives me the name of a friend who watches children not too far from our new place. Learning how cheap it is to take my daughter there sets my mind at ease, because I know once I secure a job I’ll be able to afford it easily, and she’ll make friends.

  I’ve started calling her Willa. I think she even likes it. To be honest, I’ve never seen my child so happy. She’s growing bigger each day, and I’m thankful I get to spend some quality time with her where we no longer have to run.

  It takes me two weeks to start my new job. I’d planned on driving people around, but managed to find an automobile shop looking for an English-speaking mechanic. The pay isn’t the best, but it will allow me to afford my rent and pay for groceries, as well as have electric, which isn’t too expensive. My landlord lives right down the road. He and his wife have four children, two are around Willa’s age, so she’s thrilled to have playmates, while I’m excited about her learning to speak Spanish. I’ve been doing some handyman jobs for them while I was looking for something else, and in return they’re taking money off of my next month’s rent and invite us to dinner a few times a week. They are great people. Using the story that my wife passed away from an illness, and of course going by Ryan, and Willa, we’re treated like normal human beings just looking for a new start. We’re away from most resorts, and never have to come in contact with tourists who may happen to recognize me at some point. We’re hidden, able to live normal lives finally without fear.

  I feel bad for using Sadie’s grandmother’s car, but it’s dependable and I need it to get from place to place with a child. Each day I climb inside and think of her, wondering where she is and what she’s doing. I hope she’s okay, and that someone was able to help defend her case. I still don’t know what parts of Sadie’s story were true, though it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever regret anything that happened when we were together. I just hope that if she has the opportunity she’ll find someone who can love her the way she deserves.

  Our lives are finally working out. Every once in a while I wonder if people are still out searching for us, but it’s only from time to time.

  We’re finally blessed.

  Chapter 19

  After three months of living in Costa Rica I’ve secured a job, managed to find a safe place to raise my daughter, and applied to become a permanent resident of the country. Costa Rica is very welcoming when it comes to becoming a legal citizen, so I’m not worried about it actually happening.

  Since living here I’ve stayed busy, but my nights get lonely. I think about Etherly, the good times and the bad. I think about being without her, and the fact that my sweet little girl will grow up without a mother to nurture her. It makes me sad, but at the same time I’m not ready to put myself out there to be hurt again.

  Quite often my mind drifts to Sadie. I wish there was some way to reach out to her, even though I know it isn’t possible, not to mention the fact that she committed murder. She’s probably going to spend the rest of her life locked away in a prison.

  I still wonder if she thinks about us. Sometimes at night I imagine her being in my arms. In the short period of time we spent together I enjoyed those moments. In the midst of everything crazy there is some peace and refuge when she was in my hold.

  I miss her. I worry about her. Maybe I’m pathetic, but I do.

  What I think about the most is how I could have let things go further but refrained to prove to her that not all men were monsters. I still stand by that, but wish we’d had more time to see if our friendship could eventually be something more.

  I think I’m just terribly lonely. Plus, now that we’re comfortable I have more time to ponder on my regrets and losses.

  I’ve let it go for too long. Using my neighbor’s computer, I do internet searches on daughters who have killed their fathers, narrowing in on Virginia. As soon as I see the name Sadie I know I’ve found the right girl. It was difficult not having a last name to search for, but now that I have it I can pursue other means of finding out what happened to the woman I refuse to let go of.

  Social media has its perks. I search the name Sadie Willman and sift through the tiny pictures until I spot her familiar smile. Using my fake account, I click on the profile and creep around. The last post was made over a month ago. To most it would make no sense, but to me it’s everything.

  R&R&W = MY HEART

  Ryan, Rana, and Willa. She remembered. She’s thinking of us, or at least was at the time of this post. I scan backward, finding nothing since the first day we met. There are plenty of pictures, most telling the story of her life. I particularly pay attention to any with older adults and find none. She’s got a few friends, but I can tell she likes keeping to herself, probably because of all the secrets she didn’t want people ever finding out about.

  I spend half the night browsing other social media outlets, finding more pictures and reminiscing about having her close to me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’ve never denied my attraction to Sadie, but I was reluctant to act on them after learning her age. Now that I miss her, the way she cared for us even when we were strangers, I wish there was a way to reach out and speak to her again.

  I’ve learned she’
s being held in a female detention center until her trial date, but couldn’t find anything about else about it. I also read a local news article about her confessing to the long-term physical and sexual abuse. As soon as my eyes scan over the words my heart breaks for her. She’s going through hell and she’s all alone. Maybe I don’t have a right to feel like a let down, but somehow I do.

  Sending her a private message is probably dangerous, but I’m using my fake profile under my new name, and I’ve removed my picture and changed it to a positive saying instead.

  Sadie:

  Willa is okay. She asks about you often. Please know that we are both thinking of you and wish you could have been here with us. You’d love it here. It’s exactly as I described it.

  -R

  I don’t expect to hear back from her, especially if she’s incarcerated, but at least one day hopefully she’ll see that and know she was on our minds, a lot more than I care to admit.

  With my main focus on my child, I know nothing else should matter. I’m prepared to grow old alone as long as my daughter has a great life. As Willa she can be anything she wants, which right now might end up being a monkey doctor. There are so many wild monkeys where we live that it’s like seeing squirrels. She loves them.

  One time a couple weeks ago I left her outside for a second only to come back to see her trying to give a baby a piece of fruit. She was talking to it like it was a person. Since that time she goes to the window to look for them, calling out as if they’ll oblige.

  I’m off one day a week, and at first I took her to all the tourist spots so she could experience the beach, wildlife and nature of the beautiful place we now call home. It’s like a dream. Etherly would have loved this. I feel like we get to live like we’re on an exotic vacation every single day.

  At two and a half years old, her vocabulary is getting better. Three months into learning Spanish and she might be better than me, who actually had the course in high school. I think it’s the kids that teach her. They are all bilingual, so it’s easy for them to communicate. Willa likes being around them regardless if she understands everything they’re saying.

  My landlord, whose name is Miguel, always has little jobs he needs help with, and I never mind, because it keeps me occupied. It’s not like we can drive to a mall or catch a movie. I don’t hang out in bars because I have a little one I need to care for.

  Everything about my life has changed, and it’s all for the better. I hope my grandmother is looking down on me now and is proud of what I’ve done as a parent. I know my child will have more love than I ever did.

  In all my efforts to ensure my daughter grows up with the best possible outcome, I worry that she’ll remember the past. The other day we were sitting at the dinner table together. She was up in a booster seat I made for her out of a couple large books so she could see over the edge. Out of nowhere she asked me, “Daddy, where Sadie at?”

  We were with the woman for a week and she remembered her.

  Not knowing how to respond, I told her what I thought would settle her little exuberant mind. “She had to go away.”

  Her next question was even worse.

  “Is her with Mommy?”

  “No. Mommy is with the angels, remember?”

  “Her not coming here?”

  “I’m afraid not, sweetie. It’s just us.”

  She seems sad.

  “I miss her too. I miss them both, baby. Daddy is trying his best. Please don’t be sad.”

  I slide down to the floor and face my daughter, touching her little knee as I speak. “Everything I do is for you, sweet girl. Please smile for me.”

  She’s shy about it, so I tickle her. Then all is forgotten, at least temporarily.

  It’s hard knowing everything we left behind and the people we cared about. I get it more than she does, so I can accept that she needs to hurt in order to learn. It just pains me to see her so confused and unhappy. Thankfully her mood changes often, and it’s easily persuaded. I know I have my work cut out for me, but I’ve wanted this job since the day I learned I was going to be a father, and nothing is going to keep me from it.

  Chapter 20

  Three years later

  My little bilingual Willa is starting her first day of school. Along with many of her friends, the bus arrives to take the children into town. I’m holding back my emotions as she starts to run toward the large vehicle forgetting about her nervous father. I call her name, seeing her freeze in place and turn to smile with one front tooth missing. She makes a beeline for my arms and I swoop her up, kissing her on the cheek before letting her go. “Have a good day, big girl.”

  “I will, Daddy.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she says while running off.

  My neighbor Maria puts her arm around me for comfort. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

  I smirk. “She’s not the one I’m worried about,” I tease.

  Maria shakes her head as she waves to all the little children looking through the bus windows. “One day you’re going to wake up and she’ll want to borrow the keys to your car.”

  She’s right. “All the more reason to want to keep her locked in the house forever.”

  “Don’t you have a job to get to?”

  “I’m going in late. Pablo told me to see his little niece off to school first.” Pablo is my boss at the mechanic shop. We’ve become great friends and spend time outside of work together with our kids and his wife. He’s tried to set me up several times, but none of the women were my type, plus I didn’t feel like Willa would like them. I know I’ve had almost four years since losing Etherly. I’m ready to move on, but something keeps me from being able to give someone else a chance.

  After walking Maria to her house, I follow the driveway to my little home. I need to clean up the special breakfast I prepared before heading into work. I no sooner finish the dishes when I hear the screen door being rapped on. “Come in!” I yell, assuming it’s a neighbor. The sound of the slam lets me know someone is in the house with me, but they don’t come into the kitchen. With a towel still in my hand, I peek around the corner and see the back of a female with medium length black hair. She’s looking at a picture of me and my daughter that I have hung on the wall. “Hola, can I help you?”

  Then she turns and I’m at a loss for words. More beautiful than that first evening we met, Sadie stands in my living room with her arms crossed and a bright smile on her face. “Hey stranger. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who wants to stay hidden? I had to brush up on my Spanish just to get the locals to talk to me. Thank God there is only one Ryan Michaels living around here.”

  “How in the hell?” I keep walking until I’m close enough to know I’m not dreaming. “Sadie. How did you find us?”

  She shrugs. “I’m a good listener. You told me that you were interested in a few places. I tried all the real estate companies in the vicinity until one lady said you were her client. I told her I was family.”

  I pull her into my arms, not knowing how I should act about this. I’m ecstatic to see her, but the emotions I’m feeling make me confused. She’s no longer a fragile girl. Sadie is a woman. Her face is fuller, her body filled in more. She’s stunning, and staring me in the face like I’m a crazy person. “I had to find you, Rogan.”

  I haven’t heard that name in forever. “Wow. You called me Rogan.”

  I take a step back so I can get a good look again. “What are you doing here in Costa Rica?”

  “Visiting. Moving. I don’t know. My life is up in the air at this point.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  She motions to see if it’s okay if we sit. I pull her along until we’re side by side on my sofa. “Well, first, after they took me back to Virginia, I was put into a detention center. I had a court appointed attorney who didn’t know her ass from the bar exam, so you can imagine how that trial went. They sentenced me to five years, even after the abuse was factored in.”

&nbs
p; “God, that’s awful though.”

  “No, it’s okay. Killing that bastard was worth the five years I’d have to serve. I’d do it again the same way if I had to. I’m not bitter. I was content to serve my time and get it over with, but then this broad shows up telling me that she can get me an appeal. She’d just moved to Virginia and wanted to make a name for herself. I figured if she could get me out sooner why not let her?”

  “I guess it worked?”

  “Yeah. I was released immediately, all charges removed from my record. They said it was justifiable homicide, meaning I wouldn’t be held accountable for what happened because it was self-defense. It’s a misdemeanor. It took some time, obviously. I served two years and four months time I’ll never get back. I would have been here sooner, but I had some personal things I needed to take care of first.”

  “But you’re okay? You’re not running?”

  “Nope.” She pulls her identification from her purse. “See?” I’m looking at an official passport with her real name and picture.

  “Did you drive here?”

  “No, I flew. It’s only five hours, and way less time in a car. I don’t think I’ll ever do something cross country again.”

  I laugh, because I can relate to it being a one-time deal. “I don’t blame you.” I shake my head. “I still can’t believe you’re here. You found us. It’s crazy.”

  “You told me where to look.”

  “I got my citizenship. Ryan and Willa Michaels are official Costa Rican citizens.” I pull out my license to show her.

  She takes a peek and then runs her fingers through my longer hair. I still shave the sides, but the top is probably ten inches long. I usually keep it tied back, and groom my beard every couple weeks when it starts to bother me. I’ve stopped wearing my glasses. I look nothing like the person in my mug shot. There’s no way someone would recognize me as that man.