Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  I run my fingers over the mousepad to save the recording, then ask, “Will you keep a copy of it too?” My eyes widen in her direction. “I would give it to Harrison and Isabel,” I start, “but I don’t want them listening to what he said about Bailey.” And with a huff and a small smile playing in the corner of my mouth, I add, “Besides, I think Isabel might just press charges herself with that kind of ammunition in her hands.”

  With the hint of a grin, Sarah says, “Sure, you can send me a copy.”

  As I continue working on the laptop, I reply, “Technically speaking, it involves you too. I mean, he never mentioned Tom’s name, but—” and I trail off.

  Sarah tilts her head and pinches her eyebrows together. “You should’ve just explained that Tom’s married to a friend. You should’ve told him about Tom and me. Then, he would’ve gotten off your case about the affair.”

  I shake my head in dismay. “I couldn’t do that, Sarah. You have no idea how powerful and manipulative he is. He already knows too much about my life and the people I care for. I don’t want to put you and Tom at risk—I’d rather have him think I’m having an affair.” I raise one eyebrow and click away at the mousepad. “Although, I would never cheat, not even on him.”

  Sarah leans back in her chair and says, “Well that’s good, because cheating is such an ugly thing.” My eyes widen and my forehead wrinkles as my hands freeze over the mousepad. Oh my gosh—please don’t tell me this is what Tom and Sarah are going through. “Oh no,” she throws both hands across her heart, “not me and Tom. No, no—there’s never been an issue like that with us. Although, we have our struggles,” she mutters, but then clasps her hands together on the table. “No, we just learned about Vincent—Tom’s brother—he just found out his girlfriend since high school has been cheating on him for years.”

  “Oh my gosh—since high school? But that was like ten years ago.”

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “He thought he was going to marry her, but every time he brought up the idea, she just kept saying she’s not in a rush, or that she doesn’t really believe in marriage.” One corner of Sarah’s mouth turns downward as she shrugs. “She’s definitely not the right girl for him anyway, but they were dating before his accident. She stuck by his side through the coma, so I think Vincent felt he owed her. It eventually came out why she was so opposed to marrying Vincent. It was because she was on and off with Vincent’s best friend.”

  I inhale sharply, “So, he lost his girlfriend and his best friend all in one discovery?”

  “Yep,” Sarah says matter-of-factly. My heart drops—I know what it’s like to lose everything in one moment. “I mean, she’s a pretty girl, so I’m not surprised that she used that to her advantage. But she started cheating on him while he was in the coma, and apparently it didn’t stop there. It’s been going on for years, and now, Vincent is really struggling with this betrayal— he was on the phone with Tom all last night talking it through.” She yawns. If Tom was up last night, she must have been too.

  “Poor Vincent,” I offer. “I’m glad he’s got family like you and Tom to help him work through this kind of stuff.”

  “Yeah, and I’m glad we’ve been able to be there for him.” She clears her throat, then adds, “But you know all about betrayal, Hallie. If Ainsley really did say you deserved everything you got in that marriage, then that might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

  My head turns with her words as if I’ve been slapped across the face with the reality of it all. “I hope she didn’t actually say that. Jonathan lies a lot, so he could’ve been lying about that, too,” but my hollow excuses amplify my empty words. Yes, Jonathan does lie, but isn’t Ainsley looking for a way to defend her choice of dropping our friendship?

  As if she’s rummaging through the thoughts in my head, Sarah says, “Yeah, well from what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Ainsley was willing to stoop that low, especially if she’s still bitter toward you,” and at that, my heart sinks.

  * * *

  It’s been weeks since I’ve heard anything from Jonathan, all the while I’m living daily with the question of whether he’s listening to my threat or planning something far worse than lurking in downtown Ann Arbor and marking his territory with his infamous cigar. I roll over in bed and check the time on my phone. Ugh! One hour until I have to be at work. I tug on my pillow, then pull the quilt closer. How about my nightmare last night?

  In this dream, Jonathan found me at the apartment. He was threatening the twins in an effort to get me to obey him. He demanded I bring Tom and Sarah to him, and the moment they showed, he pulled out his shotgun. I woke before any blood was spilled, but I’m stuck with those vivid images seared into my psyche. It’s like Jonathan’s holding me in his claws, and he’s ready to hurt the people who I care about just to get to me. I rock deeper into the mattress, as if it could swallow me whole. Will anything I say or do get that monster out of my head? My eyes dart around the room. Maybe I should leave, then everyone would be safe…even if I didn’t have anyone I could trust by my side. But where would I go? Would I really be protecting those I care for by fleeing if Jonathan knows they are here anyway? No, I’m going to fight this to the very end.

  My gaze lands on the verse from Jeremiah 29:11 that still serves as my comfort in all of this. I’m counting down the days until we’re given a date at the courthouse. But is there any hope for a future? My blood starts to pulse in my ears. I take a deep breath, roll over, and repeat the words over and over in my head. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Can God be trusted, even when things look as dark as they do? I press my elbows into my side, making my body as small as possible. Sarah trusted God—and before she chose to do that, Tom trusted that Christ would save his dying brother and redeem his marriage. But Tom got his dove, and his storm ended with a rainbow. For me, there is only a storm … ahead and behind. Maybe Jonathan has left me alone for a while, but that doesn’t mean he’ll leave me alone forever.

  I grab for my phone and bring it to my face. The screen flashes as the light causes me to wince. I blink a few times, adjusting my sight, then freeze. The date on the screen snatches my breath. Exactly a year ago, Jonathan tried to strangle me. On this day last year, I thought my life was going to end. I gulp and take in a breath. I knew it was time to leave the moment his grip tightened around my throat, but I didn’t know how I was going to manage it all. Since that day, I’ve told people about my story, not many— but I did muster up the strength to share that living nightmare. And what’s more, I had the strength to leave him—to get out, to make it on my own. Now, a whole year later, I’m stronger than I ever imagined I could be. I left town when my world unraveled, something that this little fawn would have never done in a million years. I fought back when Jonathan tried to force me to return to Oklahoma. I found a job, I didn’t give into my fear, I took action to collect evidence. And now, I’m not going to waver.

  Using my elbows to hoist myself into an upright position, I open my text messages and begin typing:

  Just so you know, I have all the evidence I need to take you to court. I never wanna see you in Ann Arbor again. Once you sign those papers I served you with last week, they’ll issue a court date. If you don’t sign those papers or if you miss showing up in court, I’ll press charges.

  I hit send and wait for his reply. This is what he gets when he messes with a fighter. I’ve fought through so much, and now the end is near. My phone buzzes with his reply.

  “K,” is his simple response.

  My heart thumps. He better sign those papers. I lean my head back and place my phone down beside me. Lord, please let this be the end of me and him. I remember how I desperately prayed for my escape on this day last year. I remember how long it felt waiting until Harrison showed up to move me out. I remember the fear I felt every night, wondering if he was going to hurt me again. Please, keep me safe
now. I pray October will be here before I know it. Let him sign those papers without a fight.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Hallie, could you come in here before you clock out, please?” my floor manager calls as I’m poised to bound down the stairs after a long shift. My throat tightens—uh-oh. A yawn plays at the base of my jaw, but I stifle it. It doesn’t matter how exhausted I’ve been from working extended hours lately, I have to hold it together a bit longer. This initiative to add on several summer programs has made work crazy. Thankfully, summer is ending. With a longing glance at the exit, I pivot and head in the direction of her office, my chest tightening with every step I take. What would warrant this impromptu meeting? “Thanks, Hallie,” she offers from a seated position behind her desk as I step inside her office, close the door, and tiptoe toward her.

  She gestures to the seat in front of her desk. As I lower my body, my heart starts to beat faster. Am I in trouble? I look around the office. It wasn’t too long ago that I had begged this woman not to put my name or face on their website. Is that why I’m here? Is she going to demand that I make my presence known to the online world? Does it even really matter at this point, now that Jonathan knows where I am? Her focus is hitched to the computer screen, so I clasp my hands together on my lap, my knuckles turning white with the tension that builds from the silence that stretches between us. Then, she turns to me and says, “Sorry I dragged you in here before you left, but I wanted to catch you for a quick chat.”

  “No problem,” I reply, my blood coursing through my veins.

  “We just wanted to thank you for all the hard work you’ve done on this floor during the past several months.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Our summer programs take up a lot of our time and manpower, and we recognize the amount of work that’s left you with up here. The truth is, you’re incredibly valuable to our team. You never complain, you always have a smile on your face, you know what you’re doing in the gym, and the members have nothing but positive things to say about you.”

  A shy grin spreads across my face. “Well, that’s what you pay me for—to do my job,” I say with a light shrug.

  “That’s true,” she responds, “but when things got busy over Labor Day weekend, while we were bringing our summer programs to an end and trying to finish up with all the final details, you really took over up here. I saw how hard you were working, and I really appreciate it.”

  With a short chuckle, I say, “Yeah, Labor Day weekend was crazy, but I knew how hard everyone else was working—it wasn’t just me.”

  The floor manager rolls her chair closer to the desk and locks eyes with me, “Well, now that we are well into September, things should start to slow down. Summer is always crazy around here, and it tends to bleed into the back-to-school phase just a bit. But I wanted to thank you for your hard work and reassure you that you’ll be getting more assistance up here on the second floor.” She smiles, ending our short, yet rewarding meeting. We shake hands, and I leave her office unable to hide the smile plastered across my face.

  The setting sun paints a pink and purple backdrop behind the tall, downtown buildings on this mildly warm, autumn day. As I walk to my car, I push my shoulders back. Sure, I’ve endured long hours and busy shifts at the gym … but what else would I be doing? Besides, I want to be a help, and it sounds like I have been. The corners of my mouth begin to fall as I draw closer and closer to the infamous outdoor patio. Ugh. It didn’t matter how many times I circled around the gym before work, all those spots were taken. I was left with no other option but to park over here.

  My skin prickles as I approach the busy street lined with outdoor seating. It won’t be long before they start packing up the patios … I’d give it a couple weeks. The cold, fall temperatures are around the corner, but for now, there are still people choosing to eat outside. Why wouldn’t they, what with the painted sunset and pleasant temperature? I cross another street. I’m steering clear of the patio that still haunts me with the smell of that cigar. But I can’t rip my eyes from the scene, as if I’m trapped in a game of “Where’s Waldo.” He’s not here. He hasn’t been here since he put the cigar under my windshield wiper. My chest rises and falls in rhythm with my footsteps, and as soon as I turn the corner toward the parking garage, I quicken my pace.

  All it took was my threat from last month. Since then, the streets of Ann Arbor have been voided of his presence. I’m guessing he must have signed those papers, or we wouldn’t have been issued a God-ordained court date on the year anniversary of when I left him. Hmmm. Does his current silence mean he’s scared of the damage I can do in court? Or does he have one last trick to play … an idea to call my bluff? I bite my thumbnail. It’s not a bluff. If I have to, I will take him to court, even if it costs me every penny I’ve earned at this new job. I jump behind the wheel and go through my routine: lock doors, check wipers, scan interior, and search the landscape for any signs of him. I press my lips together … all’s good. Everything inside the car looks like it did when I parked it here this morning, there’s nothing out of place. So, I turn on the engine, and navigate out of the parking garage. As I turn down the busy streets, waiting at each light, my eyes start to dance. I can’t help it. Something inside of me has to look for him. This is what he’s done to me. But that will end in a month with our upcoming court date… it better end. I chew on the inside of my lip. Will he finally give up all hope and leave me alone forever?

  * * *

  “Only one week left till it’s finally over,” Isabel cheers in a hushed voice as I fly up the apartment staircase. She hasn’t seen me all day, and her eyes spark when we come face-to-face. She’s as eager for the court date as I am. I pat her arm and motion with one hand for her to follow me. Many small group members are mingling around the dining room table. It doesn’t matter that I worked another long shift today, I have a renewed strength for our Bible study tonight.

  “Yeah,” I reply, “I can hardly believe it.” I move to my room as she follows on my heels.

  “Harrison spoke to your parents, and they are good to pick you up from the airport.”

  “Oh, good,” I say as I drop my gym bag in the corner of the bedroom, “I’ve been dreading that phone call, so I’m glad he talked to them.”

  “Well, they didn’t seem happy about it,” Isabel confesses from the doorway, “but they’ll be there—I just wish we could be there for you, too.”

  I replace my jacket with a comfortable sweatshirt as I offer a gentle smile. “I know, I wish you guys could be there, but you’ve already done so much for me.”

  Sighing deeply, Isabel says, “You’ve always been welcome here, I just can’t believe he found you in Ann Arbor. You still haven’t heard from him or seen any sign of him, have you?”

  Pulling off my workout shoes and sliding my feet into a pair of slippers, I answer with a shrug, “Nope, but it would be just like him to try one last thing before we go to the courthouse. This divorce is uncontested, so they simply make sure we’re both there, then they grant the divorce, but something could still go wrong, and his silence kinda makes me worry. So, I’m preparing myself for whatever trick he might throw at me, just in case.” Reaching for my Bible on my bedside table, I add, “I just hope it doesn’t involve a return visit to Ann Arbor or anything to do with my parents.”

  Isabel offers a quiet, lip-twisting grunt in response as we both move to the hallway and join the growing group in the living room. I approach Sarah and settle in the chair beside her as she offers a lively hello paired with a big hug. The group begins as Harrison explains we’ll be taking a momentary break in our study to discuss the upcoming baptism. “We typically like to do baptisms outside, if we can manage,” Harrison says to the group, “but we figured that the flurry of snow we’re supposed to get on Sunday will be a bit of a deterrent.” Everyone laughs, then he continues, “Our baptism went so well over the summer that we’ve had several people ask to do another one. As we work through our passage tonight, I want you all to consider what
baptism means to you. And if you haven’t been baptized before, maybe you can think through the possibility of getting baptized on Sunday.” As he tells us to turn in our Bibles to the book of Acts, my enthusiasm fizzles. This whole lesson is for me, and Harrison knows it. I’m the only one in this room who hasn’t been baptized yet.

  The next hour passes awkwardly as my guilt is fueled by the passage we’re analyzing in Acts. Tom isn’t taking much of a lead in the study tonight, and I keep glancing at him, waiting for him to jump in. As Harrison closes in prayer, my throat tightens. I’m one week short of getting my divorce, and I’m still unwilling to completely surrender to God and trust him with my life.

  As the group filters out, saying their typical good-byes and reaching for their jackets, I wait where I’m seated. I lick my lips with the imminent conversation. Before I know it, the room is empty of everyone but the usual five of us, just like every other Thursday night. I sit in silence, waiting to hear Harrison ask what I thought of the passage we studied tonight, but instead, Sarah speaks up first.

  “This study really hit me hard,” Sarah says as she places a hand over her heart. My head inclines, and I purse my lips. “When we did the baptism this past summer, I convinced myself I’d be able to get baptized at the next one. But now that we’re only a few days away from it, I still don’t think I’m ready.” My body starts to rock back, but I tighten my abs, cushioning this blow by re-crossing my legs.

  “You’re not alone,” Isabel offers. “It’s a big step to take, and there are a lot of people who hesitate to publicly declare their faith in front of a large crowd.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah starts as she flips in her Bible to the passage mentioned earlier in the study, “but I really thought I would be ready by now. I mean, when Harrison read, ‘And now what are you waiting for? Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away, calling on his name,’ I felt like God was talking directly to me.” I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth in order to keep my mouth from gaping—Sarah is saying exactly what I’m feeling. “So, I asked myself—what am I waiting for? And the truth is, I don’t feel like I have a good enough excuse.” Tom stands from the couch and moves behind Sarah, who’s still seated beside me. He places both hands on her shoulders, and she starts to cry.