Hello to my poor, poor readers who have had to struggle through my continuous lack of updates. Good news: I´m in Ecuador! Finally a Peace Corps Volunteer, after two months of training and one month of just settling in. Now I have the time on my hands to write! I should be updating this every week or two until it is finished, and the end is near. I would also like to start revising the whole thing when I get the chance, nothing big, just some tweaks. I´d like to think I´ve improved just a bit in the three years I´ve been writing this story.
Onward and upward! Reviews are always loved and appreciated, especially now that I am in Ecuador and far from home. :-) Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Three: Run
It happened on Christmas day.
It had to happen on Christmas. Christine had thought about the day for a long time, turning over the possibilities in her mind. It was the only day that he had promised, outright and to her face, to stay away from her, and when he promised like that, he did not break it. The conversation was still stuck in her head, turning around and around, a sad song on repeat: You will have no interferences from me on Christmas day.
If this worked, this mad plan that she had spent sleepless nights burning into her brain, then she would have no interferences from him ever.
It started like this:
Christine opened her meager presents on Christmas Eve with Aunt V.
"No, V, this is better, why on earth would you want to have to get up early in the morning to open gifts?" She asked, sitting cross legged by the small, glistening tree that she had painstakingly decorated. The old woman was frowning, a slight tick murmuring along her lower jaw, the lines in her face deep and puckered. "Tomorrow is a day for resting and relaxing before the people from the Home arrive to take you back. Now we can sit all cozy by the Christmas lights and enjoy our gifts. Okay?"
V looked at her for a long, hard moment, but in the end relaxed. "Alright, I see how you kids are so excited to open their gifts you can't even wait for morning. But let's at least wait until the rest of the family arrives."
Christine sighed. The only gifts under the tree were from her to Aunt V, with one from Raoul to V as well. By agreement they had decided not to get Christmas presents for each other. "It would be dangerous," Christine had said. "Besides, what you are doing for me is gift enough. It will change my whole world."
As V opened her gifts by the dim light of the tree, Christine's thoughts drew inevitably to The Plan. In her mind she could see it in capital letters, The Big One, The Escape, The Plan. She had already put enough food in V's refrigerator for Christmas day and scribbled a note that she would leave on the counter, saying that she had some things to care of and not to worry about her. She had also already called the nursing home and told them that she wouldn't be able to drive V back herself, and could they please send over a car the day after Christmas to pick her up? Thanks so much, and the key is under the mat in case nobody answers the door.
All that was left was to wait until morning.
After presents had been opened and V was safely put to bed, her frail body wrapped in her new nightgown, Christine opened the screen door and sat on the back steps. Her pajamas were rolled up to her knee, the heavy Louisiana night still muggy and damp even in December. Crickets called out into the darkness, playing their little violins and singing. They were so far south, so close to Texas, and from Texas to…
For a moment Christine wished that she smoked, that inhaling on a little piece of fire would calm her shaking nerves and settled her mind. As proof she held out her hand in the dim light filtering out from the kitchen windows, and watched it tremble.
She went to bed that night but didn't sleep, instead staring at the ceiling in her old room, watching the blades of the overhead fan stir up dust, listening to the drone of flies in her ears. There was a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, like something small and sick and heavy was lodged just above her intestines. Once during the night she calmly got up, walked to the bathroom, and vomited the little food in her stomach. Afterwards she felt better, but still did not sleep. Her nerves were on fire, the bowling ball in her gut still lodged firmly despite her stressed purging. She didn't cry, either; she was proud of herself for that. She just stared at the ceiling and ran over The Plan in her head until the small red lights by her bedside read 4:30 a.m.
Christine didn't turn on the light as she got out of bed and washed her face in the cramped bathroom. The cool water against her skin felt good, and as she lifted her face to the cracked mirror her own reflection stared back, pale and sleep worn but determined. She set her jaw firmly, wanting to memorize the fierce look on her face. "If this doesn't work, I won't ever have reason to look determined again," she thought, shrugging on a nondescript t-shirt and giving herself one last look in the mirror before heading to her bedroom in the dark. She checked her knapsack one last time ("money, check, passport, check, Spanish dictionary, check"), tugged jeans on over her thin legs and laced up old running shoes.
Suddenly she had a flash of déjà vu, and her hands stilled on the laces, one leg propped up on the bed, knee in her face. She saw so clearly her first moments in that house, alone and so deeply terrified for her life, the stale taste of vomit in her mouth, sitting in the darkness of that too-plush room and tying her shoelaces with ragged, shaking hands. She remembered swiftly the terror of not knowing what lay beyond that door, those seconds that seemed like hours as she summoned up the energy to leave that room, the thrilling and bitter taste of hope in her mouth as she prayed that no one would be there and that, in her worn sneakers, she could run and run and run, and never be found.
That was before she knew him, Christine realized with a small start. Erik. Before she knew anything about him, knew his height or his mask or anything beyond his whispered words in an alleyway and her night-dream music. At that time she didn't know how he moved, his graceful elegance, how his suits hung off of his thin frame like off of a hanger and how his long-fingered hands would gesture when he was excited. She didn't know about his face. She didn't know that he loved her. She had only the deep terror of the unknown, the same terror that she was feeling as she once again sat on a bed and tied her shoelaces in the dark.
Only this time, she thought as a small car pulled in front of her driveway at exactly 5:00 and she slipped silently through the screen door into the humid morning air, there was more at stake than just her life. She had dragged someone else into her problems.
Raoul gave her a shaky grin as she got into the cramped car and they pulled away. "Hey," he said quietly. Christine merely nodded at him before twisting around in her seat to watch the old house disappear in the pre-dawn darkness. "Goodbye, Auntie V," she thought with a terrible finality. "I'll never see you again in this life."
Sighing, she turned back around to face Raoul, who was staring straight ahead, an understandably tense look on his face. The old crease between his eyes was there, but the hair that fell across it was a watery brown color, like thin mud, instead of its usual sunny yellow.
"You dyed your hair," she stated softly, taking in his scraggly week-old beard.
"One of those at-home kits for chicks," he said. "I don't know if I did it right, but I figured they might be looking for a blond guy, if they're looking at all. Guess we better hope it doesn't rain on us; it might come out." He gave a nervous little laugh.
"You have everything?" she asked quietly, and he nodded, not taking his eyes off the road, careful to stay below the speed limit.
"Think so. I got my cousin's passport, we look pretty much alike, and he never travels out of the country anyway. This car is his too, bought it off him for 300 bucks. I pulled as much cash as I could out of my brother's account without looking suspicious; said it was for Christmas presents and I'd pay him back later. I have…" he trailed off for a moment and then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I have the blanket and the stuff in the back."
She nodded. "We'll pull over when it gets light out," she said. "Once we cross into Texas."
"Yeah." He paused again, then reached over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out of thin blue-backed book. "I, uh, I though you might be able to use this."
Curious, Christine took the worn passport from his grasp and opened it. Inside, a young woman slightly younger than herself smiled brightly, her short blonde hair puffing around her face. She looked like she could be Christine's sister.
"My cousin on my dad's side, Becky," he said, a catch in his voice. "She died a few years ago of a brain tumor, but her passport's still valid. I thought, well, it might be a good way to get out of using your own at the airport. Play it safe, right?"
Christine looked at him, unshed tears welling in her eyes. "Raoul, I…thank you," she whispered. "For everything. God, thank you."
He sent her a brief smile. "Hey, we're gonna get through this. No tears. Okay?"
Christine nodded fiercely and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Okay," she said softly.
They were silent for nearly an hour as the car plodded along the desolate highways, until Raoul looked up at the huge sign to their right. Some of the tenseness eased in his shoulders. "We're in Texas," he said, as the first rays of light hit the car windows and turned the world around them a milky shade of early morning pink. "Merry Christmas, Christine."
"Merry Christmas, Raoul," she said, smiling a little.
"Oh, and before I forget," he hesitated once again, his eyes darting downward to her bare left hand. "Becky was married, it says so in the passport. So when you use it, maybe you should like, wear a ring or something."
"Yeah," Christine said softly, her hands drifting to her neck. "Maybe that's a good…"
She paused, her fingers prodding her pale skin, searching for the silver chain. "No," she whispered, bringing up her other hand to help in the search, her eyes dropping downward to stare at her chest. "No, no, no…" She tugged at her top, hoping against hope that the chain had fallen into her shirt or gotten snagged in her bra, but after a few moments of frantic searching, she knew it was gone.
"No," she hissed again, scrunching up her eyes and bringing her shaking hands to her face. "Dear God, no, please, not now."
"Christine?" Raoul asked, glancing sideways at her. "What's the matter?"
"We have to go back," she muttered in a choked voice, the sound muffled by her hands.
"What?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly. Christine lowered her hands from her mouth.
"We have to go back," she croaked. "I lost it. I have to find it."
"Christine, we can't go back now, or the whole plan will be ruined," he said, a nervous tremor running through his voice. "Why? What did you lose?"
"His ring," she wailed, now fruitlessly searching under the seat. "I put it on a necklace and I…I….oh, I was so stupid. Now if he finds us, I think, oh…" she let her head fall into her hands, blonde hair hanging ragged around her face. "I think we'll both die."
"Hey," Raoul said, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on her shoulder. "Hey, look at me, Christine." She didn't move, just rocked back and forth in a futile motion, whimpering slightly. "Seriously, look at me."
Finally she did, turning her head to stare at him through a curtain of blonde hair. He made sure that she was looking at him before speaking again, one hand still reassuringly on her shoulder. "No one is going to die," he said in a steady, even voice. "This is a good plan. He is not going to find us. You are going to sneak into Mexico and board a plane to Europe as Becky Chagny. You are going to get away from here and start a new life. I will take a vacation to visit friends in Australia. Everything will be okay. We're going to be okay."
Christine didn't answer for a long time. Finally, in a small and tired voice, she said, "It's light. I think you should stop the car now."
