Page 15 of Moved
“That’s what I thought. Got that phone?” I held out my hand.
“I don’t think now would be a good time to use it.”
“Oh, I think now is a perfect time.” My temper was starting to boil. He just stood there watching me.
“Fine.” I started to walk toward the grocery store, but a hand on my arm stopped me.
“Gillian, it’s time to go home.”
“And just where is that?” I said looking back at him. “As far as I can tell, I don’t have one. Just a prison.”
Annoyance crept back into his features. “Stop being so dramatic.” He pulled me close, obviously ready to drag me along.
I kicked his shin. His eyes darkened again. I ignored them, twisted my arm, which he released, and started walking back to the apartment. It was a long, silent walk.
When I opened the door, he finally spoke again.
“Here’s the phone.”
“I changed my mind. I still have nothing to say to Dad.”
“He’ll come up here if you don’t talk to him.” Racer almost sounded relieved.
I pivoted on the steps to meet Racer’s once again normal gaze. If I had to suffer, he would, too.
“Chuck followed me from college. I’d been watching my mirrors like usual and never once saw him.” I paused then shrugged. “Tell my dad to be careful on his trip here. Never know who might be watching.” I left Racer scowling in the entry.
Later that day, a truck pulled into the yard. I watched from a window as Racer and another guy unloaded bags of groceries. As if that would make it all better.
****
For the next two days, Racer stuck to me whenever I left the apartment. So, I developed a routine of unpredictability. I went to bed by ten, woke at 3 a.m. to vacuum, went back to bed until five then blasted the radio to sing in the shower. The next night I went to bed by seven, woke at 2 a.m. and took out the garbage. I made sure to splash water on my face first so I looked wide-awake when I saw him at the door. He looked like hell.
“What are you doing?”
I lifted the bag. “Taking out the trash.”
“Wait for me to get my shoes on.”
“No, thanks.” I pushed open the door and walked out to the trashcan. It was cold enough that I tested the air to see if my breath misted. Nope. I lingered outside until I heard the door open.
I walked back into the house and called goodnight to Racer. Then I went upstairs and turned on the radio in the living room. With a smile, I closed myself into my room and went back to bed. He most likely wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
In the morning, I woke with the alarm, turned off the music, dressed in workout clothes, and went to the shed. He was already on his side of the shed, working on a car. The double-hung doors were wide open. He wouldn’t let me sneak off the same way twice. I hadn’t really expected him to. I cranked up some party rock and jumped onto the treadmill. The world melted away for a while. Waking up in the middle of the night for two nights in a row hadn’t affected me yet, but it had Racer. When I glanced his way, I caught him leaning against the car with his eyes closed. I stopped the treadmill, and his eyes popped open.
“Does that little town have a library?”
He just stared at me.
“You know...a place with books.”
He didn’t answer. I sighed. Have it your way, I thought.
“The treadmill just isn’t cutting it. Come on, let’s go for a jog.”
I picked up my hoodie and headed for the door. His faint words reached me before I pulled it open.
“I think I hate her.”
