Page 12 of Moretti Captive
Translation: Are you going to run for it if I go to the bathroom?
I nod, “I’ll be fine. Go on.”
He looks relieved and practically sprints off to the bathroom. He’s barely closed the door behind him when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. My heart drops as the state mental hospital’s number flashes across the screen. Looking around, I see a door to the side for alley access. I head through withouta thought. “Hello?” I answered the phone before the door even closes behind me.
I walk a few feet away from the door. “Hello, Miss Peterson. I’m calling about your mother,” the woman on the other side says.
“Is she okay?” My mind is already running through all the horrible possibilities.
“She’s doing fine. I just needed to talk to you about changing her current treatment plan. I’ve just got to verify your identity before we go over that,” she reassures me.
After a few security questions, she explains the situation to me, “Your mother’s current medications have become ineffective. We would like to give Clozapine a try. However, this medicine has a lot more side effects than her current regimen. This is kind of a last-ditch effort before we consider things like electroconvulsive therapy.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. If this other pill doesn’t work, they want to do electric shock therapy on my mom. I can’t really say no; either way, she needs treatment. If the pills she is taking now aren’t working, then I have no choice but to agree to this other one. I would rather that than shock therapy. Besides, it’s not like the side effects could be worse than her severe psychosis.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been thinking until the woman’s voice comes through the phone again, “Miss Peterson, we need your permission to move forward with this new treatment plan.”
“Yes. You can go ahead with it. Just keep me updated on her progress, and I’ll come visit as soon as I can.”
There’s a pause on the other side, “I’ll give you a call in a couple days to let you know how she’s acclimating to the new meds. We understand your situation. The nurses all take turns to sit and chat with your mother on her good days. Don’t feel rushed. We’re here to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
A tear slides down my cheek, “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“No problem, sweetie. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.” The word is soft, and when the phone goes silent, I’m so caught up in my emotions as more tears trail down my cheeks.
My hectic emotional state is the only reason I’m caught off guard. Someone grabs my shoulder and slams me against the brick wall of the cafe. I blink the tears out of my eyes to find a large man holding me at knifepoint. I want to scream at this point. What the hell happened to my life? First, I’m held at gunpoint, then kidnapped, now I’m being mugged in an alleyway!
Is there a tattoo on my forehead that says “damsel in distress” that I’m not aware of?
The guy doesn’t even say anything; he just swings the knife at me. I dodge out of the way, yanking my shoulder out of his grip in the process. His elbow jerks out and jabs me right in the meaty part of my waist. I gasp but manage to dodge out of the way of his knife again. Before he can go after me again, the door bangs open, and his eyes widen, “Fuck! This job isn’t worth dealing with one of them.” He runs off in the opposite direction.
I turn to find Nic rushing toward me. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me into a tight hug. “Are you okay?” He’s holding me so tight I can’t respond even if I knew what to say. “Fuck. I was so worried. The barista said you stepped out to take a call. I didn’t expect to find you in trouble when I came out here. If I was any later… I can’t even think about what could have happened to you.” Somehow, his hug got even tighter.
The tragic thing is I escaped a mugger just to be killed by a hug. I hope someone puts that on my tombstone. Nic pulls away from me, holding me at arm’s length while I finally fill my lungs. “What are you doing out here? You could have gotten hurt!”
Looking down at my toes, I hate that I had to be saved, “I got a phone call about my mom. I didn’t expect anyone to be in the alley. It’s not like I’m even dressed nicely; I don’t know why anyone would try to mug me.”
He looks down at me with furrowed brows, “Are you sure he was a mugger?”
I shrug, rubbing my cheek, “What else could he want with me?”
“I don’t know,” Nic said carefully.
I don’t complain when he takes my hand and leads me back into the cafe. Our coffees are sitting on the counter waiting for us. He hands me mine, and we walk out to the car. When I’m finally sitting and able to think about things clearly, I realize that the guy never asked for my wallet. It’s weird for a mugger to attack without demanding your money, right?
11.Niccolò
When we get back home, Harper is a little tense, and I don’t blame her. She settles in at the kitchen island to do her homework. It’s probably out of habit since that was where she sat when she was being supervised while using her laptop.
I start working on dinner as she frowns at the numbers on her screen. I’m horrible at math, and our bookkeeping probably shows it. Maybe we should hire Harper once she graduates to do our accounting. She already knows about our business, and the three of us get along pretty well anyway.
I’ve just put the Chicken Divan in the oven. It’s a quick casserole to throw together, especially when I just buy a shredded rotisserie chicken instead of cooking my own and breaking it down. We always serve it over cooked white rice. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s Ava’s favorite meal, and I like to make it at least once a month for her.
I work on getting the rice cooker set up. Since we’ve got three adults and a teen eating, I go ahead and throw two cups in; after being thoroughly washed, of course. I’m not a monster.
When Ava and Vin come in, Harper is deep in the zone with her homework. Ava is standing behind her, gaping at her laptop.
