Chapter Twelve

Into the Night

Folding up the note, Lauren put it in her hardcover edition of Jane Eyre for safekeeping. She replaced the book under the bed and decided that the new chair needed a good cleaning from all of the dust and dirt it had accumulated on its trip upstairs. She gathered up a towel from the kitchen and as she wiped it clean, she began to think about her days here and how quickly she had grown acclimated to living here with a man she had fallen in love with despite knowing next to nothing about him. It felt like a dream that she had often about a new life in a new place. John had said that she was destined for more than she ever expected, though she wondered whatever in the world it could be. These thoughts crept through her mind while she cleaned up the chair and changed for bed. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror while she brushed her hair and set it in a topknot. Her brain had recovered from being smothered by her primal needs and she started to consider just what he was telling her. "Why am I so important? I'm just me, not royalty or from any sort of meaningful lineage, why?" she thought. Drawing the sheets back from her bed, she began to feel terribly alone without John here. She slipped under the covers and picked up her book and began to read to get her mind away from her loneliness and try to get some sleep. Somehow the comfort of knowing that John was even in the building gave her the security she needed to get to sleep and now that he had gone, her fear began to trickle back into her mind. She had lived alone for so long that as she read the note, she didn't think that it would be such a big deal that he was away for a while. It felt familiar; she had given her heart to someone who had left her alone. It wasn't the first time. Trying to convince herself that this time was different and that he would not simply abandon her she felt herself choke up like she was about to cry. She fought back the onslaught of emotions, covering her ears in hopes that it would silent the thoughts in her head of desertion and the distress that being left alone would bring to her. She shut her eyes tight in hopes of fending off the tears she felt were about to come, she didn't want to feel this, not now, not when everything in her world was perfect for the first time. No, not now. Her breathing became shallow as she battled the voices that whispered, "He's gone. You're alone now, there's no one here. You gave him your heart and look what happened, he's left you. You were better off before you came here, at least you didn't feel this kind of pain." Her face dissolved as her falling tears fell onto her pillow that she was clutching and silently screaming into. She felt like the whole world was caving in on her. Without John, the insecurity took his place and planted its foot inside her psyche. "Go away! Leave me alone!" she thought trying to push the voices in her mind "Everything is just fine and John will be back! He said he would so he IS!" Sitting up in the bed and sobbing in the dimly lit room, she finally let it all out. Her tears cleansed her soul of those foul thoughts and crumbled the voices that fed her nothing but negativity. She allowed herself to feel how she felt instead of crushing it all down deep inside. Soon, it was over and she passed out from the mental and physical exhaustion of the day. As had become routine, her last thoughts were about John.

When she awoke, she had forgotten that John was gone for the time being and for a few seconds, she felt him beside her, holding her as he had the night they had kissed. Her eyes opened and she saw that he was holding nothing more than a pillow beside her in the bed and she remembered. Sighing, she sat up and put her feet on the cold floor. "Back to reality" she thought. Her watch said 1:17 but she had no idea if it was night or day. She supposed it didn't matter because she only had to look out for herself for the time being. Wobbling to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, she wondered just what she was going to do with herself with all of this time on her hands. Filling the well of the pot, she turned it on and waited for the caffinated goodness to fill the carafe. Whipping up her famous scrambled eggs, her mind began to race to thoughts about going into town, but she remembered that John had said that it was not safe for her to be seen. Plating her eggs and filling her mug, she decided to have breakfast in their little room. She set her breakfast on the desk and sat down to eat. Fingering through the drawings of her that he had done, she admired his skill at sketching and the shadowing of each scene reminding her of the film noir genre. The play of shadow and light in precise angles were done as well as any artist she'd ever seen. "Maybe he's one of those reclusive artists types." she thought to herself sipping her coffee. She closed the folder and put it back in the top left desk drawer. Before closing it, she noticed another folder in the drawer. She took it out and set it on the desk. She stared at it awhile, knowing that what she was doing constituted an invasion of privacy, but her curiosity about John had grown exponentially since the night before and it would be so easy to flick open the folder to peek inside and maybe answer some questions about who he was. She put her right hand on it and she traced it with her finger. "Maybe he's a felon, maybe he's wanted in 27 states for polygamy, maybe I just should put it back and forget it exists." Whatever was in there, it was calling her to show itself to her. "If it was something that concerned me, he would have shown it to me." Her decision had been made and she slid the two folders back into the drawer and closed it. It wasn't an easy decision for her to make, but she trusted John when he told her that she was special and that she was the most important person in her life.

With her head on straight after breakfast, she went downstairs to see that it was indeed afternoon, and she could get outside for some fresh air. Spring was technically here, but it was still brisk outside, enough to warrant a hood. Covering her hair was paramount to not getting recognized. It was red, curly and wild; the kind of hair that attracts attention and without a wig, a hoodie would have to do. Standing in her dressing room, she brushed out her hair and tied it up into a tight knot. She covered it with one of her scarves that John had given her and lifted the hood on her sweatshirt. With no red hair in sight, she headed out.

Emerging from the warehouse she quickly donned her sunglasses. Looking around, there were truly no signs of life other than her in the whole block of warehouses. Still, precautions had been taken to disguise her well and she felt safe from prying eyes. She had some nice jazz music on her mp3 player filling her head with sweet melancholy music as she walked slowly around the district with no one but her shadow. "It's funny how you always mean to do things, but you never get around to them," she thought. "I've been meaning to get more exercise but I just never got around to it until now. I don't know what the hell was stopping me." She walked for over an hour around all of the untended to grass and up and down the roads in the district. She felt like she was on her own planet. The sun began to sink as she headed in and locking the door behind her, she yanked on it six times to make sure that there was no way anyone was getting in through it. Freeing her hair from the bonds she had placed it in, she headed up for a shower and a fresh set of clothes. The daytime wasn't so bad when he was gone; it was the nighttime that was the hardest for her. That's the way it went on for weeks. She spent her days either walking or driving to markets out of state to get the basic necessities, making sure that she was totally unrecognizable and taking walks around the district. She continued with her household duties, just as if John was there, even making extra food forgetting that he wouldn't be there to eat it. Then at night, when there was nothing left to do but go to bed, that's when she would become anxious. "Be assured that I have not left you and that I am always with you even when you are alone." She remembered his words; they ran through her mind all night. She believed every word he had told her and she was trying hard to feel his presence, but the night would drag on for her until she finally fell asleep in the early morning. Her dreams were a clutter of images from her new life; lying helpless in bed when she was too weak to take care of herself and Johns attentive care over her, the time he gave her the hatbox full of scarves as a gift to cheer her up about the scar on her neck, the laundry room makeover he created for the first time she made dinner for the two of them. Some nights she wondered if he was even real, if she was indeed insane and she made him all up. She felt his ghost in the halls as she walked, almost like god was watching over her with ever knowing eyes protecting her. Terribly lonely, one night she decided to sleep in his clothes. They held in his scent and it provided extra comfort to her that he is, in fact real and that she hadn't made the effortless drop into madness. Sticking to a daily routine helped her keep busy and forget even for a few seconds that he was gone. There wasn't a tidier abandoned warehouse anyplace in the world because of her Joan Crawford style of housework. The dishes and the crockery were stacked in order of size. The towels in the bathroom were folded and hung crisply and evenly on the towel rack. She arranged her clothes, even down to her socks and underwear according to hue. The kitchen and bathroom floors were mopped and even the locks on the forbidden doors were polished. There wasn't a single inch of the living area that she hadn't cleaned and disinfected, polished or folded. Finally, with absolutely nothing else left to do, she sat in the chair in their room and put her head down into her arms on the desk. Living with a man that barely existed anymore was wearing her down mentally and emotionally. She couldn't believe the size of the emptiness that was felt while he was away, he consumed her every thought to the point that she began to feel unwell. She was heartsick, almost grief stricken over John. She had never dealt with this kind of feeling before and she was overwrought by feelings of longing and helplessness over her heart. She had sought and fought for control for so many years, to have her resolve evaporate in a handful of weeks was shocking to her. For the first time in forever, she allowed someone to take her heart into his hands and trust that he wouldn't stomp all over it. She was vulnerable now, and it scared her to pieces.

It was dusk when she had gotten in from her latest walk. She was really putting miles on her shoes with her daily walks and she liked the new her fit and healthy, physically. Psychologically she felt like a study in lonely. Taking her key from her pocket, she saw that the lock was open and that could only mean one thing. Someone was in her house, as it was. Lauren was convinced that she locked it because she never, ever forgot. This was her home and someone had broken in. She went for her hidden aluminum baseball bat that she had stashed near the dumpster. The whole time she thought, "I don't care if it IS a cop, whoever it is better like the taste of aluminum! How DARE someone come into MY perfect existence and try to wreck it! NOBODY wreaks my life but ME!" She reached the door and opened it up enough for her to crawl into the warehouse from the truck bay. Slowly and silently, she made it to the stairs and stopped to check for movement or noises. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary so she continued up the stairs and continued down the hallway that led to their home. She tried to remember if she had closed their bedroom door or not, because now it was closed. "Dammit! I can't remember!" She thought as her grip on the bat became tighter. Reaching the door, the pool of light from beneath the closed door hit her shoes. She listened again for any sign of about-to –be-dead-burglar but there was nothing. She raised the bat with her right hand and flung open the door with her left and attacked…an empty chair. Sending it wound and round with her blow to it, she stood there aghast at herself. She took comfort in the fact that no one was around to see it and dropped the bat onto the bed. She probably had forgotten to lock the door and now she had this day of personal foolishness to help her remember to. She couldn't find a living soul in the house and so she threw on her mp3 player and swaggered to the beat of the work of Angelo Badalamente down to the kitchen for water, maybe something stronger to settle her nerves.

Then she felt it. Eyes were definitely on her, she felt the eyes of someone tickling her skin. Stopping dead in the hall, she spun around slowly and found no one there. She crept to the laundry room first because it was the closest. Flicking the switch, she entered and saw that everything was as she had left it. Taking a quick look under the folding table and in the hamper, she was satisfied that the room was burglar free. As she was about to turn off the light, she heard something coming from the bathroom. She grabbed a bottle of spray starch. She disappointed herself at her choice in weaponry, but any port in a storm! Here she was, about to find out if you can kill a man with starch she slid up to the closed bathroom door. She heard the noise again and wanted to scream out a warning to the intruder that she had a deadly weapon and she wasn't afraid to use it, even thought she was unsure about the weaponising of starch. Kicking in the door she brought the can to eye level and rushed into the bathroom, ready to take all comers! Two steps in she tripped and fell flat on her face. "Ow! My head!" she whispered but would have rather have yelled. The can went dancing over the tile and came to a stop in the shower on the other side of the room. Lauren looked over through blurry eyes and saw that she had tripped over someone. Her eyes took a minute to focus and once they did, she saw John, unconscious on the floor.