Author's Note: Okay ladies and gentlemen. I took down mother VD story as you all know. I didn't really like where it was going in my mind. So I decided to take it down and re-think some things about it. Make some chnages and what not. But I couldn't think of what to do. That is why it took me so long to come back to you guys with something. Anyway, long story short. A couple of days ago I heard Bob Seger's 'Turn The Page' and thought: Hmm. I think I could do something with this. Hence the title. Anyway. Here it is. Let me know what you think.
Caison Jenner lay in her bed wide awake, waiting.
Tonight's the night, she thought as she checked the time on her alarm clock beside her. Just twenty more minutes.
She shifted slightly so she could get a look at the man beside her. Lemar, her fiancé of eight months and her boyfriend of over two years, seemed to sleeping soundly enough. Sitting up ever so slowly so as not to shift the weight of the mattress and wake him Caison swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Turning for a second to make sure he was still asleep, she made her way to the bathroom. She had to check just one more time.
Silently closing the door behind herself, Caison turned the lock and winced as the click sounded. It was like a shotgun blast in the silence of the tiny apartment. Crouching on one knee before the bathroom cabinet, Caison said a silent prayer to whoever might be watching that the door wouldn't squeak. She pulled the door open. With a slight squeak.
Traitor, she thought toward the offending door as she opened it a little farther to fit her hand inside.
Reaching all the way into the back of the cabinet her hand closed around a bottle of water. Pulling it out slowly so as not to hit and knock over anything else in the cabinet Caison twisted the cap off quietly and moved to the toilet. Lifting the lid and seat up she situated the bottle between the seat and the rim so that the water would trickle down into the bowl. Just in case Lemar woke up and saw that she was gone.
With that set, she returned to the cabinet and reached again into the dark wooden box. This time she didn't have to reach far. Pulling a small blue box from behind a couple of bottles of cleaner she opened the top and dumped it's contents onto the bathmat, surveyed them.
Pleased with what she saw, she hastily stuffed the fake ID, social security card, birth certificate, records and tampons back into the box while pocketing the thousand dollars she had in assorted bills into the pocket of her pajama pants. Looking down at the diamond Rolex Lemar had bought her for her last birthday she decided she had waited long enough.
Pushing herself to stand, Caison quietly removed the bottle of water from the toilet, flushed and waited. She heard Lemar's steady, even snores coming through the thin wood of the bathroom door. After throwing the bottle into the waste basket Caison left the bathroom, box in hand. With only the pale moonlight to guide her through the otherwise pitch dark room Caison crept silently through the bedroom to the large closet. Opening the door she crouched again on one knee to sift through the clothing and shoes at the bottom until she found a well worn duffel bag.
Walking swiftly back to the bathroom, she shut herself inside and opened the towel closet. Pulling out every towel and unfolding them she removed the clothing she had folded inside and folded them back up and put them in her duffel bag.
Five minutes later she left the bathroom again, duffle bag nearly full. Creeping through the bedroom to the door, she turned and took one last look at Lemar. He seemed so small sleeping alone in the large bed. So harmless. No one would ever guess… she thought but shook her head instead of allowing the thought to continue. Exiting the room, she shut the door behind her as quietly as possible.
In the living room, Caison stopped at the couch and set down the bag. Moving to the small mantle she grabbed any picture she saw her face in and put them inside the duffel. She did the same thing with the side tables and the walls. When she looked up from placing her box of tampons into the bag there were hardly any pictures left in the room. Zipping the bag quickly she hefted it onto her shoulder and staggered under it's weight. Dammit, she thought. Who knew pictures were so heavy.
Walking unevenly to the door, she took off the bag, pulled on her worn bomber jacket and equally roughened Chuck Taylor's, took up the heavy bag again and moved to the window, threw it open and swung one leg out and planted her foot on the fire escape. Turning one last time to glance around the apartment she had lived in for a year-and-a-half her eyes found the bedroom door. She shot a bird, ducked her head under the window and pulled her other leg through. Shutting it securely behind her Caison made her way down the fire escape, through the alley and to her car without a hitch.