Freefall (16 page)

I climbed into the shower and was leaning my head back with closed eyes to rinse out my hair when two hands took hold of my waist. I gasped and slipped back against the shower handle, bruising my back. A small sharp sound came from my throat as I groaned in pain.

Lincoln was naked. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled of a mixture of booze, perfume, and smoke. “Sorry, Babe, I was just trying to surprise you.”

Tears of pain flowed from my eyes as I stepped out of his grasp and grabbed a towel. I pressed my hand against my back and wiped the tears with the end of the towel.

He slammed his hand against the faucet to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower. “I can’t even fucking touch you anymore without you jumping.”

I cried harder and lifted my fists and sprung open my fingers to show surprise.

His face softened. It was rare to see him with a five o’clock shadow, and I was amazed at how much more real it made him look. But it wasn’t thick enough to cover the massive hickey on his neck. “I’m sorry, Scotlyn. Let me see how bad it is. It probably needs some ice.” He reached for the towel, but I pushed his hand away. “I haven’t even seen the tattoo I paid a damn fortune for. Not to mention, I had to sit and watch that asshole touch you for three nights.”

If I hadn’t been so upset and in pain, I would have laughed at the irony of his statement. If the man only knew just how badly I craved Nix’s touch. It was Lincoln’s touch I loathed, and it was becoming obvious to him, only his arrogance always seemed to push him to that ignorant state of denial.

I tried to shoo him out of the bathroom so I could finish getting ready, but he reached for my arm and tried to kiss me. His breath was stale, and I turned my face away.

He released me. “What the fuck?”

I pointed to his neck. I really couldn’t have given a damn about the hickey, but it was my excuse for not letting him touch me.

He pointed to his neck. “What this? Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got to sleep with other women because you are such a frigid bitch lately.” And then fatigue from being up all night seemed to suck the anger out of him. He stared at me with that expression that made me feel more sorrow than hate.

I flinched as he reached past me for a tissue. He handed it to me, and I wiped my eyes.

“Are you going to sit with that old lady again?” he asked wearily.

I nodded.

“I don’t want you to get on the bus. I left some money on the nightstand for a taxi. I’m tired as shit and I’m going to bed, but tonight, I want to know more about this job.” He shuffled out to the bed and plopped down, and I released the breath I’d been holding. His all-nighter had worked in my favor . . . for today at least.

My back hurt badly. I couldn’t see it too well in the mirror, but the skin felt warm to the touch. I could save myself the brutal ride in the bus by using the money for a taxi, but the bus still sounded more inviting, sore back and all. I downed a couple of aspirin to numb the pain and walked to the bus stop.

The bus driver managed to hit every pothole and dip at full speed, and I had to turn to my side and sit awkwardly to avoid the pain. The morning before, I’d gotten on the bus feeling excited and hopeful, but today had started out so badly, I’d sunk into a dark mood. I’d allowed myself to become Lincoln’s prisoner so I could have a roof over my head, and my silence had kept me under that roof. I knew Lincoln well enough to be certain he wouldn’t let me just walk out of his life. A feeling of dread crept up every time I thought about leaving.

I stared out the window and braced myself against the side of the bus hoping to cushion some of the movement. My eyes ached as I fought back tears. I picked up my phone. “Will I see you today?” I wrote.

“I’ll try to get away from the shop for awhile. Everything all right?”

Tears rolled down my face, and I wiped them away with the palm of my hand. I could cry right in front of Lincoln and it would take him awhile to notice that I was upset. Nix could sense my agony with a five word text. “I just need your arms around me. I need the man who can hear me even when I can’t speak.”

There was a pause. “Where are you?”

“I’m on the bus. I’m fine. Just having a self-pity moment. Really bad morning.” I cried harder now. “I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the sound of my voice.”

The phone rang and the unfamiliar sound of it startled me. “Scotlyn,” his deep voice was soothing, and I closed my eyes and covered my open ear to drown out the clamor of the bus. “I
will
take you from him, Scotlyn,” he said with quiet confidence.

I sniffled into phone.

“I think about you every fucking minute of the day, and I will not let you slip out of my life. I will take you from him.” He hung up.

I curled up against the pain and watched the blur of traffic thinking about all I’d been through since that fateful day when the tires had screeched and the sky and ground had turned into a melted nightmare of twisted metal, broken glass, and blood.

***

Just seeing Nana’s sweet face at the door brightened my spirits completely. She clutched Nix’s note in her shaky hand. “Scotlyn, right?”

I nodded and stepped inside. A woman walked out of the kitchen. Her eyes weren’t amber in color, but they had the same shape as Nix’s. She looked me up and down, and I hoped my eyes weren’t too pink from crying.

“So, you’re Scotlyn,” her tone had just enough suspicion in it to make me feel uneasy.

I smiled and stuck out my hand, which she shook hesitantly.

“I’m Nix’s sister, Diana. The note said you don’t talk.”

I took out my pad of paper. “I lost my voice in an accident.”

She stared at me for an awkward moment. Yesterday, I’d made the decision to wear a dress, but today, I’d opted for shorts and a t-shirt. I wished I’d opted for another dress. “I’m sorry to hear that. How do you know Nix?”

“We’re friends,” I wrote hastily. After my horrid morning, her grilling was making me nervous and my pen felt unsteady in my hand.

Nana stepped in to save me. “She writes incredibly fast, and she’s helping me write down some of my past . . . before it is gone forever.”

Diana’s face softened at her grandmother’s sad reminder. “Well, Nana asked me to bring by some stuff to make cookies. Apparently, she was in the mood to bake since you would be here to help her.”

“Yes, I haven’t baked in a long time, but I’ve had a terrible urge for a chocolate chip cookie,” Nana said enthusiastically.

I smiled and nodded to show I was equally enthusiastic about the idea.

Diana put her number in my phone in case I needed it. It was obvious she still had her doubts about me.

“Nana, don’t forget that I’ll be back here tomorrow morning to take you for your vitamin shot, and I’ve made you an appointment for a physical. Maybe the doctor can find out why you’ve been so tired lately.”

“I’m tired because I’m old.” Nana winked at me.

Diana kissed her grandmother and left and then we went in to bake cookies.

***

Nana and I sat on the backyard bench nibbling our accomplishment. She’d left Nix’s note inside but seemed to remember my name now, which made me feel absurdly pleased. Nana had decided that the cookie baking had worn her out too much and that she didn’t have the energy left to tell her story, so we spent the morning and afternoon just hanging out. After the horrible morning I’d had, it was soothing just to sit with Nana and listen to her talk. It made me realize just how much I missed out on by not having a grandparent.

We watched a rather daring squirrel make its way across the electric cable above the yard. “You know, Scotlyn, I’ve forgotten. Were you born without a voice?”

I pulled out my paper. “I lost my family in a car accident. I survived but without a voice.” The words came out of the pen easier this time as if just writing it again was helping me accept the whole thing.

Nana read it. “Oh my, of course, how could I forget that? You poor dear.” She fell silent for a moment and then spoke again. “When I buried my son, the pain was so unbearable, I was sure I would never recover. When they lowered the coffin into the grave, I wanted to throw myself in behind it. Richard had to drag me away from the gravesite. Oh, and poor Alex. He stood there so stoically, trying not to cry. His face was as white as snow. Losing a parent is awful when you are young.” She placed her hand over mine. “Losing both is something no child should ever endure.”

“I lost my sister, Olivia, too.” Her name looked familiar in my handwriting. I’d always made a fancy curlicue at the end of the O. It was a habit that had remained without me even thinking about it.

Nana picked up my hand and held it on her lap. “No wonder you lost your voice. I don’t think I would be able to speak either. But you’ll talk again. The pain will lighten and your voice will be set free.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and thought sadly about the incredible mind of the woman sitting next to me, a mind that would be wiped clean in the near future. Sometimes life was too unjust and ridiculous.

By one in the afternoon, Nana was ready to rest so I tucked her in and wrote a note to remind her that I’d left. I texted Nix but there was no response, and much to my dismay, he didn’t walk in as I left.

The white sidewalks reflected the heat of the day as I headed to the bus stop. My disappointment in not seeing Nix was profound. His words on the phone this morning rolled through my head over and over. I wanted nothing more than for him to free me from Lincoln’s control. I wanted nothing more than to be with Nix. But I didn’t want to be dependent on him. I needed my independence first. And I knew Lincoln was not going to just let me walk out his door. Even if he truly didn’t love me, which I was fairly certain of now, he wouldn’t give up control without an ugly fight. He’d invested far too much in me.

The pain in my back was still sharp, and with the sticky heat of the day, a ride on the bus didn’t seem nearly as romantic as it had yesterday. The bus stop bench was so hot I had to slide my hands beneath my thighs to keep the heat off of my legs. I glanced at my phone, but there was no return text from Nix.

A homeless man, the type I’d always thought of as a lifer, a man who’d been out on the streets so long as each day passed he looked less and less like a member of the human race, sat down on the bench. He stared at me through bloodshot eyes and a face so coated with grime, dirt actually fell off of it as he moved his bearded chin. Aside from the odor, it didn’t bother me to have him sit next to me.

I glanced at my phone. According to my calculations, the bus was about fifteen minutes away. Lincoln was obviously still asleep, or he would have texted me by now. If I was lucky, which seemed unlikely after the events of the day, he would sleep through the remainder of the afternoon.

A grit covered palm appeared in front of me. “I could use a few dollars,” the man mumbled.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five. I placed it on his palm, but he kept it out for more.

He was definitely more persistent than most. He folded the five up in his hand and lowered it, but, unfortunately, he remained on the bench. I inched away from him hoping he’d get bored soon and leave. But once a day started badly, it seemed that nothing could turn it around.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him shift forward on the bench. It seemed he was finally going to leave. Just as a wave of relief rushed through me, his fingers grabbed my arm. I jumped up and struggled to break free of his alarmingly strong grasp.

“I’ll bet you have more money,” he snarled, obviously so strung out he’d resorted to more violent tactics than mere begging.

With my free hand, I reached into my pocket to pull out some more money. Several customers in the pharmacy behind the bench came to the window to watch, but no one came out to help. Just as I was about to throw the money at him, a police car pulled up to the curb. Two policemen stepped out.

It actually took the guy a moment to decide to release my arm. He turned and stumbled away, but one of the officers followed after him.

The second policeman lifted his glasses off his face and looked at me. “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head, and my stupid tears flowed again.

He took out his notepad. “What’s your name, Miss?”

I was so stunned by the whole event, I could even figure out how to show him I couldn’t speak. I reached quickly for my notebook in my back pocket, and he lifted his hands.

“Whoa, stop right there. I just asked for your name.” He looked at me suspiciously.

I shook my head trying to show him that I couldn’t tell him without the paper.

A scowl crossed his face. “Look, Miss, just cooperate. All right, show me some identification.”

My heart was slamming against my chest, and I had nothing to show him. I lifted my hands to let him know that I had no identification.

His frustration grew, and my tears flowed faster. “Maybe you’ll cooperate better down at the station.”

I’d been the victim, and now, my inability to talk had made me the criminal. My eyes were blurred by the tears, and my head was spinning at how quickly things had dissolved into shit. Then a voice floated through my mist of misery. And the sound of it brought instant comfort.

Nix walked up behind me. I pressed my face into his chest and collapsed into his arms. And I realized that they were the first arms ever to provide comfort and relief from despair since my family had died.

“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” he asked.

“Just needed for her to give me her name so I could write a report. But she hasn’t cooperated.”

The conversation went on above my head, but I kept my face pressed against Nix’s shirt. I could feel the beat of his heart beneath my cheek, and the sound of it soothed me. “Scotlyn is mute,” Nix explained, and it seemed to have rendered the officer temporarily silent. “She uses a paper and pen to communicate.”

Not leaving the complete and utter security of his arms, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper. I lifted it up and the officer looked at me apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Miss, it is just that you reached for it so quickly . . . I didn’t know. I apologize.”