She awoke with a violent shudder the next morning, her left cheek causing a suctioning sound as it pulled away from the car door window. She looked around quickly and was relieved to find herself in the parking lot at work. The evidence that she had slept in the car all night slowly crept through the course of her body, and she leaned forward and arched the tenseness from her back. She glanced at her watch and started the car at the same time.
At the bank she withdrew all but five dollars of the eight thousand dollars she and Michael had stashed away over the years from their joint savings account. Within minutes she found herself at the bank across town, depositing the cashier's check into a new personal checking account for herself, and adding a one thousand dollar cash advance withdrawal from Michael's Visa.
She completed her transactions, stuffed a fifty dollar bill into her front pocket and left the building twenty minutes later. She looked at her watch again. 9:21.
Was it really going to be this easy?
There was a sense of urgency to everything she did. She was quick and efficient. She felt omnipotent, almost precognizant, as she steered the car through the city, mentally clicking off a to-do list in her head.
When she got to work, she barged through the front doors with such presence, several employees stopped talking and watched her walk down the hallway. She felt them looking at her. She felt the knowledge that she was changed, and that people were noticing it. She ignored the whispers, delighting that she inspired such wonder, and marched towards Mr. Reginald's office, unconcerned that she was still wearing her jogging clothes from the night before. She knocked firmly on the door and entered his office without permission. "Mr. Reginald," she began.
"Laine," he said looking up. "Your husband has called here about a hundred times this morning."
"I know," she said. "I mean, I figured he would. Listen, Mr. Reginald...I need to take my vacation early, like today. I need a few weeks off."
He carefully set his pencil down and straightened the papers on his desk. "Well Laine, we have you scheduled for two weeks in September, just like every year. This is only June."
"Right," she said hurriedly. "That would be the reason for my use of the word early, meaning before a scheduled time."
His expression caused her to back peddle, and she softened her voice before backing in again. It was difficult to keep composure when she knew he would dangle the request over her head, but she steadied herself against her own sense of outrage, and approached the request as if it were someone else she was bartering for.
"I don't understand," Mr. Reginald began. "You always take your vacation after your daughter comes back from camp."
"My son," she corrected. "I need the time now, Mr. Reginald."
He was silent for a moment and stared at the dust particles visible in the sun's light streaming across the room. She watched him and nearly sneered, knowing he wasn't considering her request at all, but was only staring blankly into nothing, his mind as empty and devoid of creation as a barren womb.
"Mr. Reginald," she said firmly. "I really need this time."
"I just don't think we can spare..."
"If you won't grant me the two weeks now, I'm going to put in for an Emergency Family Leave, and take three months."
"If you can just give us a few more months..."
"Or I can blaze through this office terrorizing everything in my path until you are forced to fire me, at which time I will collect unemployment."
He stared at her dumbly, not comprehending the depth of her desperation.
She stared back, her gaze steady and determined, sitting bolt upright. "I don't think you realize what you're dealing with here," she said, smiling slightly.
She didn't know either. She only knew she had been shaping herself daily like clay, trying different angles and lines, looking at herself in the mirror and trying to see past all the negative input that had been fed to her by toxic spoonfuls over four decades. She wasn't thin enough. She wasn't pretty enough or smart enough. She never measured up to the woman next to her. She strained against the forces of the world, her head bent into the wind, fighting the explosive gusts as they reeled up before her. She had only recently begun to question the logic in pushing against the world's natural forces. Why not just turn around and go with the direction of the wind?
He finally agreed to grant the vacation, grumbling over the short notice, and reminded her several times when she was due back. He was still talking when the door shut behind her.
She drove towards the city, engulfed by a sudden fear that threatened to suffocate her, but she turned the car radio on, found a rock station, and blasted the sound until the windows shook. At a small cafe, she made several calls on her cell phone, read the newspaper and circled several one-bedroom apartments available for rent in the city. She called one close to the cafe and scheduled an appointment. As she finished her lunch, she noticed a familiar face across the room and tilted her head with a quizzical expression. The woman smiled back and raised her eyebrows.
Laine realized with a start that it was Mel and she felt her face get hot. She covered her embarrassment with her hands, laughing behind them, and motioned for Mel to join her. She noted the swagger of Mel's gait and shifted in her seat, feeling suddenly the hardness of the chair against her ass. Mel slid into the chair opposite and said immediately, "Hello, Laine."
The relief registered apparent on her face. "I thought you wouldn't remember."
"I won't ever forget," she said casually.
Laine laughed and blushed again. "No, I don't think I will either."
"What are you doing over this way?" Mel asked and motioned the waitress for coffee.
"I left my husband last night."
"Really?" Mel asked. "How come?"
She thought about it for a while. There were so many reasons, none really good enough on their own to justify the departure, but collectively enough to level the marriage like a nuclear holocaust. She sighed deeply. "He sedated me."
"Literally?"
"No, not literally, though the result was the same."
"Your sedation, you mean?"
She nodded and wiped an errant tear from her face. "My coma."
"But you're awake now?" Mel asked and smiled.
"I am wide awake," Laine said.
"As I recall," Mel reminded her, "you were pretty awake that night at Babylon."
"Yes," Laine laughed. "I think that was the night the alarm went off."
They sat quietly for a time, comforted by a previous intimacy which softened the edges of their silence. "What are you doing now," Mel asked.
"I'm looking for an apartment," she said and slid the newspaper over. "I have to be there at 1:00 today, on 10th Street."
"I know this. It's pretty nice. And not that far...we could walk there from here."
Laine smiled. "You'd go with me?"
"It's what I do. I walk women to their apartments."
"What do you really do?"
She looked around and nodded. "I own this restaurant."
"You do?" Laine said and smiled. "I love this place."
"Me too," Mel answered. "C'mon, let's go see the apartment."
The apartment was only a few blocks east of Mel's restaurant, located on a good street with plenty of parking.
They had waited nearly an hour for the manager to arrive, when the phone in the lobby's office rang. A janitor emerged from the office with a large ring of keys. "She can't be here for about forty or so more minutes," he said and handed Laine a key. "Says to go on up and take a look at it. You can leave a deposit if you want if she's still not here. It's 5B."
"Thank you," Laine said, her heart racing laps out of her chest. She had not planned on seeing the apartment alone with Mel.
Mel noticed Laine's hands shaking and said casually, "I'll wait down here."
"Don't be silly!" Laine laughed and took her hand. "C'mon."
Even on the elevator she could feel Mel's sexuality, could feel the energy steadily filling up in the small space. By the time the doors opened, Laine's breath was coming in short spasms.
She knew she would take the apartment the minute she stepped inside and saw the view of the river stretching miles into a vague destiny. The living room was bright and airy, stretching thirty feet wide. A long hallway separated the room from the kitchen, bathroom and a large laundry closet. "I like the way the living room is the entire length of the apartment," she said to no one. "There is so much space."
She could imagine lining the far wall with bookshelves, could see the arrangement of the furniture and smiled at the possibilities of colors and hues that no man would abide. She had always wanted a purple bedroom. She had always loved any shade of rose, the pinks and mauves blushing femininity like a romantic gesture.
She nearly bumped into Mel in the hallway and laughed nervously.
Mel stopped and put her arms on the wall, blocking Laine's movement either way. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Laine. I know you're not ready for this."
Laine closed her eyes and let her head rest against the wall. "I'm ready for anything," she said quietly.
"I don't think so," Mel said, standing back a little and moving her eyes down Laine's body. "You look ready, but it doesn't mean you are."
"How would you know?" Laine asked playfully.
Mel threw back her head and laughed out loud. "Trust me, princess. If there's one thing I know, it's when a woman's ready or not."
"I do trust you," Laine said.
"No, don't trust me. Trust that I know that one particular thing."
"Why shouldn't I trust you," Laine whispered and moved in close to Mel's neck, breathing slight wimpers into her skin. "What would you do to me, if I let you in again..."
There was a tap on the door and they both jumped. An elderly woman entered, holding a folder. "Hi, I'm Kathryn," she said and extended her hand. "How do you like it?"
"I love it," Laine said, shaking her hand.
The transaction took place without complications and Laine paid the first month's rent and security using Michael's credit card. She felt pangs of guilt each time she used it, but assuaged her feelings by rationalizing that he was living in the hundred-thousand dollar house they had both paid for over the years, and was driving the better of the two cars.
She unloaded her car later that day, bringing up the few items and suitcases she had packed the night before. Had it only been a day? She had done so much. There was still so much more to do. She thought wickedly about renting a moving truck and backing it into the Hartwell's garage to furnish her new place, but decided against it, only after careful consideration, because she wanted only items she had chosen for her very first apartment.
She talked to Aaron for nearly two hours on her cell phone, only stopping because the battery light was flashing and they were running out of time. He asked her a million questions and wanted to know what her plans were. "Right now, sweetie, I'm just taking things as they come. This doesn't mean I won't be back at home by the time you return, but right now I can't promise anything."
"Mom," her son said quietly. "If you're going through something you just need to work it out. It doesn't matter if we're all in the same house."
"You're such an old soul, Aaron," she said before hanging up. She had told him that since he was three, believing him capable of an intuition beyond his years.
"Well, I'm 15 anyway. I think I'm old enough to handle the separation."
Sometimes she didn't know him. Sometimes she tried to see the evidence of herself in him, finding nothing of familiar substance, and wondering how it was that God chose to place him into her life. They had a long-standing skit they performed where she would ask, "Where did you come from again?" and he would answer, "I came from you." At times she felt leveled by the realization that she had done something so significant.
The next day she found herself spending thousands of dollars in a furniture store, decorating her small apartment with extravagant pieces, color-coordinating designer elegance and splurging on things that might seem out of place in a one-bedroom temporary dwelling. She visited the drapery store down the street and scheduled an appointment for an in-home consultation.
"Think you're over-doing it a bit, princess?" Mel asked her over lunch.
Laine had eaten lunch at Mel's for the past three days, finding herself there each day at noon, as if by magic transport. She staked territory at a booth in the back by the end of the counter, where Mel did paperwork and conducted business with vendors.
"I'm not overdoing it," Laine answered. "If anything I'm under-doing it. I've waited a long time to have my own space."
"That's a justification," Mel smiled.
Laine tilted her head. "How do you figure?"
"Well, you cleaned out the bank account. You're still using his credit card. And you're doing these things for fabric and fancy shelving units. You don't need any of those things."
"I do need them. They're essential to my survival."
"Laine," Mel said. "You haven't even called him."
She had talked to Joie, who was the only person at work who had Laine's new address, and found out that Michael had been to the office every day since she left.
"I wrote him a letter."
"Jesus Laine," Mel said and sighed. "If you want to be on your own, then you have to be responsible. You're not a little girl. You can tell your husband that you're not coming back right now. You don't have to hide."
She was hiding, she knew that. She was afraid that if she saw Michael, he would know exactly what to say to break her. He would know how to get her back by playing on her fears. She wasn't strong enough to see him, not when he had such an arsenal and she was still unarmed.
A few nights later she went to the boutique in the lobby of her building and bought clothes. She paid for them with her own money and felt a sense of independence. At home later, she stepped into the black jeans and pulled them up without effort, zipping them without sucking in and feeling room around the waistline. She had lost weight since running again, but more than that, she had gained strength. She felt capable of anything.
It had been a little more difficult to run in the city. There were no long stretches where she could run uninterrupted by traffic, there were people to navigate around and there were dangerous parts of the neighborhood that she had to be careful not to venture into when the high took over and the run became the only thing of importance.
She tucked a long-sleeved rust-colored blouse into her jeans and put on a belt. She hurriedly pulled on the black leather boots, pulling her jeans out and over and situating the material. By the time she looked into the full-length hallway mirror, she didn't recognize herself. There were curves again in places she had long since ignored. There was a subtle sexy contour to her body that wasn't apparent before and she turned several times, admiring the hourglass shape in the mirror.
Her hair was hanging around her face in curvy locks, needing brushed, but she simply ran her fingers through it and let it frame her face like the mane of some wild lioness that had just killed its prey. It was hard for her to say it, but when she looked into the mirror, the woman she saw looking back seemed a stranger. She looked good, but she was a foreigner.
She grabbed her purse and ran out of the apartment, walking the four blocks to Babylon with a flashy, confident gait. She had hoped to see Mel or Joie in the bar, but she didn't care one way or the other. She just wanted to be seen, wanted to be around people and soak up her independence by being wild and unpredictable.
She wondered what attracted her to Babylon. She had not given it much thought that she was gay, though all her life she had found women beautiful and erotic. She had not even considered herself bisexual, even though she could honestly say that she desired both men and women. Her sexuality seemed to be peaking high above such labels, as she found herself drawn and attracted to the feeling of people, to an undefinable essence.
The moment she found a seat at the bar, she was joined by a woman around her age, who sat next to her and smiled without speaking. "Hi," Laine said.
"I am," the woman answered.
Laine raised her glass. "Good for you!"
"Or for you?"
"Well, I don't get high," Laine answered and swallowed involuntarily. Her pulse quickened.
"Do you like flight?" the woman asked.
"Flight?"
"Hmm, okay," the woman said and moved her chair closer to Laine's. "Do you like space?"
"I don't get what you mean," Laine laughed and finished her drink in three big gulps.
The woman motioned the bartender for another round. "I'm Kelly," she said and lifted her glass.
"I'm Laine."
"You're beautiful," the woman said and offered a tired smile.
"Me? Oh, thank you." Laine didn't know what to think about Kelly. She seemed harmless enough, was tall and somewhat thin, but there was an edge about her that rubbed hard against Laine's comfort zone.
"Are you a subbie?" the woman asked, still smiling.
"A what?"
"Are you submissive?"
"God, am I ever!" Laine laughed and finished her drink. "I think I have been my whole life, first controlled by my father, then my husband and my boss. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, just to please. I guess you can't beat that out of someone, right?"
The woman laughed again. "I'd give it a pretty good effort, gorgeous."
Laine laughed at the joke and stopped short, surprised to find another drink sitting on the bar in front of her. "I didn't even see you order this!" she said and took a sip.
"I like to keep the femmes filled up," Kelly said.
"Femmes," Laine repeated, feeling the pretty word caress her lips. "Femmes."
The woman stared at her for the longest time, not talking or looking away. She lit a cigarette and handed it to Laine, who strangely reached out for it and started to smoke. "I don't smoke," she said and took a drag.
"You do now!" Kelly laughed.
"I'm doing lots of things I've never done before," Laine said.
"You have no idea, gorgeous."
Laine laughed, feeling a bit more relaxed by the heat of the booze. Like her parents, she had always had a great capacity for alcohol and could drink copious amounts and function while others around her drank half and fell down.
"You're new here," Kelly said.
"I've been here once before," Laine answered. "I like being here. I feel accepted here."
"You're certainly appreciated."
"I am?"
"Oh yes," Kelly smiled. "A beautiful woman, alone in a bar? What are the chances..."
Laine wasn't quite sure what she meant. "Chances?"
"It's usually not this easy," Kelly said and laughed.
"I don't understan..." Laine began and stopped. The ground moved under her and for a moment she thought she might be standing on an animal's back. It pitched and tremored, as if growling, and she put her hand on the bar to steady herself. "I feel funny."
"I know," Kelly said quietly. She motioned for the check, paid in cash, and then steered Laine clumsily through the bar.
"Wait," Laine stammered. "I'm...meeting someone..."
"Not any more."
Laine's head fell back several times, the weight of it too heavy to sustain. Her eyes closed and opened and her vision blurred the objects before her. Even if Kelly had relaxed the grip on her arm, Laine knew she'd never make it to her apartment. Her legs gave out and Kelly grabbed her around the waist, pulling her in close to use her own body as leverage. "Are you taking me home?" she said, astonished that her words were so garbled.
"No, sweetness," Kelly said and steered Laine out the front door. "We're going to a special club."
The last thing Laine remembered was being crumpled into the back seat of a four-door car, feeling gentle hands grabbing her from the other side and pulling her firmly to the center of the seat. She felt a scented warmth on her lips while a cold hand performed a hasty violation down the front of her jeans. Though the sensation was hostile and crass, Laine felt herself responding as if programmed. She forced her eyes opened and willed the figure above her into clarity.
Kelly's face blurred before her slowly. "Where..." she began.
The face shook slowly back and forth. "Lesson number one, subbie. You don't ask questions."
She made one small noise, her body's plea for clarity, before the muffled blow of a leathered fist silenced the pathetic attempt into a dark, morbid underground.