Don't Turn Back (Coming Home Book 1)

by Stephens, Amy

  I feel a light tapping on my arm and realize Brian is attempting to wake me. I bring the seat up and try to focus on where we are. He is pulling off at an exit to get gas and hopefully something to eat. I packed a bag of snacks, but I’m ready for some real food.

  He gets back in the car and pulls across the street to a fast food place. I really wanted something more than a burger, but I’m not going to complain. While waiting for our order in the drive-up, Brian tells me we are making good timing, and we are well over half way. The nerves return, and I’m sure it’s only going to be worse the closer we get. I can only imagine what Brian is feeling.

  I offer to drive but he refuses, insisting I need to rest. He drives in silence for a while and we both jump when his phone beeps alerting him that there’s a new text. Neither of us were expecting to hear from anyone, so I’m a bit curious who could be texting him. I figure it’s probably that boss of his. How dare she interrupt our trip. He picks his phone up from the console and asks me to read the text since he’s driving.

  I glance down at his phone expecting to see her name, but it’s actually from a name I don’t recognize. Rodney. “Who’s Rodney, babe?”

  “Oh, he’s the last guy we hired to close at night. He’s also training to be a manager but will probably move to another location as soon as he’s ready. What’s the text say?”

  Oh my goodness! I can’t believe what I’m reading. I look over at Brian and he can tell the look on my face doesn’t reveal good news. “Your boss just got fired.”

  “What?” His face instantly angers, but I’m more concerned about him concentrating on his driving.

  “Yeah, it says, ‘Melissa got let go this morning. Got questioned about several deposits that are missing. You know anything?’“

  “Damn.” The look on Brian’s face concerns me. “That can’t be true.”

  I turn the phone in his direction for him to read the text for himself. While I’ve never been a fan of Melissa, I hate for anyone to lose a job. I hope this doesn’t affect Brian negatively, but maybe this could be an opportunity for him to advance.

  I can’t deal with the text right now. I must focus on my driving. I knew I should not have taken the day off, but no, I had to take this darn trip home. If I had been there, surely we could have figured out what happened to the deposits. There’s no way Melissa did anything with them. She would always have them ready for me each morning, I would initial the deposit slip indicating I verified everything, then she would walk to the end of the mall and drop it in the bank deposit slot. This happened daily, we never missed one. Shit! Then it hits me.

  I run my fingers through my hair. No, I can’t deal with this right now.

  Jennifer looks over at me, noticing my sudden frustration. “Are you okay?”

  “Fuck!” I say out loud, but then regret it once the word leaves my mouth.

  “Brian, slow down.” She’s almost yelling at me now.

  I look down at the speedometer and see I’ve increased my speed well over the limit. I lift my foot from the gas pedal and allow the car to return to the posted speed limit. I hadn’t realized the text had affected me so much.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” The last thing I need right now is to fall into this mess Melissa has caused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Melissa. I hope to God this is some damn joke.”

  “Brian, I don’t understand you. What is going on?”

  “A few weeks ago, I opened up the store and told Melissa some things about my past. I was having a rough day and she said she was a good listener. The store was slow, so I broke down and told her about my past jobs, how nothing ever worked out right, even bringing up the situation over at Jared’s.” I can see by the look on her face she’s having trouble following me. I’ve screwed up. How is it I can’t open up and talk to my wife about everything, but I can feel comfortable discussing it with my boss? Boy, I suck!

  Jennifer turns her head to look out the window. I know this hurts her.

  I continue the story, putting myself deeper into trouble. “Melissa told me she was proud of my job performance so far, and I was probably going to be a candidate for my own store manager position very soon. She was so sincere and kind to me. Other than you, she’s been the only person to really give me a chance.”

  “Brian, she’s your fucking boss. Isn’t that what bosses are supposed to do?”

  “Jenn, I know you’ve never been fond of her, but she’s really been a cool person to work with.”

  “So, why are you getting so worked up over this? If she’s such a good person, I’m sure your company will figure out there’s been a mistake and everything will come clear in the end.” I know Jennifer is only saying this, but I hope what she’s saying is true.

  “Uhhh, how could I be so stupid? I cannot believe this.” I grip the steering wheel tighter and feel my blood pressure rising.

  “Brian, just stop the damn car. You are getting so worked up over this. Either you tell me what is going on or pull over. Your driving is out of control and it’s scaring me!” She’s screaming at me.

  The car veers slightly to the right, running over the reflectors lining the highway. Bump, bump, bump. I pull the car back into the lane, probably harder than I should.

  “Damn it Jennifer. Don’t fucking yell at me.” I turn to face her, and I’m sure mine is red. I’m fuming now. It’s bad enough the situation I’m dealing with, but now my wife wants to make it even worse by criticizing my driving. I realize I am driving way over the speed limit again, so I back off slightly.

  I pull up too quickly on the car ahead of me and jerk the car to the left to avoid hitting the rear bumper.

  “Brian, please stop. Slow down.” Even though she says this more calmly, I’m still beyond angry with myself. I’m angry with Jennifer. I’m angry with anyone right at this moment.

  Without thinking, I bring my hand up, and I instantly regret what happens next. The back of my hand grazes her cheek and she immediately brings her hand up to cover the sting of the blow. I can’t believe I just slapped her! She wouldn’t shut up. She kept screaming at me about my driving, only making it worse.

  What the hell have I done now?

  Angry tears pool in her eyes. I can’t bring myself to look at her. I pull off the side of the road realizing it’s not safe to drive until I’ve calmed down and apologized for my outburst, but Jennifer grabs her purse and jacket and jumps from the front seat leaving the car door open before the car has barely come to a complete stop. She still has her hand on her cheek but she’s walking faster than I have ever seen her move before.

  “Jennifer.” I call out to her. “Look, I’m sorry. Please, just let me explain. Please get back in the car.” I slowly ease the car forward, coming as close to her as possible.

  It doesn’t take me long to realize she’s not going to stop, and I can’t keep driving like this down the side of the interstate in the emergency lane. The car could get hit, and I don’t want that to happen.

  Still, she keeps trudging along, never looking back. I finally bring the car to a stop and get out on the passenger side to avoid the vehicles coming up behind me. “Jennifer, stop!” I yell to her.

  She turns to face me with a look of disgust, and I can’t help but feel responsible for the tears streaming down her face. I also notice the red mark that’s still clearly visible across her cheek. I’m so sorry for this mess I’ve created.

  As though it sickens her to look at me, she turns and keeps walking.

  “Jennifer, you’ve got to stop. This is crazy. You know I didn’t mean to do it. Get back in the car.” I plead.

  No matter how much I beg her, she has obviously made up her mind she’s not getting back in the car with me. I walk back to the car and sit there for a moment. “Damn it!” I yell, while beating my hands on the steering wheel. How can I be so stupid? I’ve gone and messed up the one thing I had going right for me. How could I have lost control and slapped Jennifer? Wha
t the hell was I thinking?

  I stare at her up ahead in the distance as she continues to trudge along. At the rate she’s going, she’s going to be out of my sight before long. I’m simply at a loss.

  Shit! I pick up my phone and the text from Rodney is still on the screen when I turn it back on. Great, another reminder of my mistakes. I think back to all those damn deposits Melissa would have ready for me before I would come in. In the beginning, I would count the money just like I was supposed to, and every time, it was exactly right. Every single time. Then, I got careless, and started initialing the deposit slips and reports even though I stopped verifying the money. Melissa was always making comments about how she was such a perfectionist about the count, and was always such a stickler for all the bills being turned the same way. The bitch set me up! She knew I wasn’t counting the money, because I would have caught the deposit shortages had I been doing it properly. How many times was the deposit wrong and I was too stupid to verify it? I got lazy and comfortable, and she took advantage of me.

  I turn the car on and reach over to shut the passenger door. I pull back into traffic once it’s clear, and drive slowly so I can look for Jennifer, who has now completely disappeared from sight. I don’t see her anywhere. How can she just disappear like that? I start to worry, then see the exit sign up ahead. At the pace she was walking, could she have made it this far so quickly?

  I pull off the exit, not sure which direction to take. This is a fairly busy exit with lots of gas stations and restaurants. I pull through a few gas stations glancing around for anyone who resembles Jennifer. I decide to stop at a Waffle House when I suddenly catch a glimpse of her sitting in one of the chairs next to the door just as I’m parking. She notices me at about the same time, because she immediately jerks her head around, pretending not to notice me.

  This whole situation is complete bullshit. I need to get her back in the car so we can talk this out like normal people.

  I sit and stare at her for the longest time, hoping she’ll walk outside. Thoughts run through my mind and for a moment I want to literally kick myself for everything I have put her through. She turns her head just enough to see me from the corner of her eye. I’m not going away without her.

  I see this is not going to be easy, so I step out of the car and walk towards the door. She stands up and runs down the hallway towards the restrooms, in an attempt to get away from me. I try to catch her but she’s too quick for me. I gain lots of attention throughout the restaurant, and everyone strains their heads to watch my performance as I beat and bang on the bathroom door, pleading with her to let me in.

  The manager approaches me and asks if anything is wrong. I explain to him my wife is upset and refuses to talk to me. From inside the bathroom room, I hear her shout out to me. “Go away Brian! I’m not leaving with you!”

  “Jennifer, please let me explain. Talk to me. Please, I’m begging you to let me make things right.”

  Nothing but complete silence answers me back.

  “I’m not going away without you, Jennifer.” I pound a little harder on the door.

  Eventually, the manager comes over and tells me I need to take my problems elsewhere. I’m disrupting the business, and I’m not going to be allowed to harass her any further. He tells me to move along and take care of my problems at home.

  “I don’t give a damn what you say, buddy. My wife is in there, and I need her to come out.” I try hard to remain calm but my temper is flaring. No damn man is going to tell me to leave without my wife coming with me.

  The manager walks back to the counter and holds the phone in his hand while saying to me, “You’ve got less than thirty seconds to get the hell out of my restaurant before I call the cops to have you removed.”

  This is the final straw; I don’t like being threatened. This is my breaking point. I kick the bathroom door as hard as I can and hear Jennifer scream.

  A guy sitting at the table just beyond the bathroom stands up to intervene. He reaches to grab ahold of my arm, and I snatch it back before he’s able to touch me. “Don’t touch me.” I say to him through gritted teeth.

  I’m sure the manager is probably already on the phone by this point, and it’s only a matter of time until the cops show up. The situation is just going to get worse for me. I can’t believe what I do next. The guy who attempted to grab my arm is still standing beside me, waiting on my next move. He stands several inches taller than me and is built like a professional athlete, but I don’t let his size intimidate me, and I return the glare. There’s an older gentleman still sitting at their table who looks ready to back him up should the situation get out of control. The restaurant is completely silent. Not liking the look he’s giving me, I pick up both beverages from their table and fling them at the guy. Dark liquid hits him in the face and runs down his chest, covering his clothes. I turn to run from the restaurant, but not before I show everyone my middle finger. “Fuck you all!”

  I have just made an utter fool of myself in front of all these people. I’m sure Jennifer has heard everything I said. I can’t believe I have lost my cool, beyond all recognition.

  I make it back to the car, slamming the door and cranking it on all in one motion. I peel out of the parking lot, tires squealing, and leave a few black marks behind. I’m sure, by now, someone else from the restaurant has alerted the police, and it’s only a matter of minutes before they are in pursuit of me.

  I sit on the toilet, wiping my tears with tissue; I have a shredded mess around me on the floor. The more I think back on the situation, the more I sob. I’m amazed I even have any tears left to cry. Each time Brian raised his voice, I felt my stomach tie up in knots.

  I jump from a knock on the door. I thought Brian was long gone by now from all the commotion I heard. I hear a kind voice on the other side of the door. “Honey, it’s safe to come out now. He’s not here anymore.”

  I stand up and steady my balance by placing my hand on the wall. After regaining my composure as much as possible, I walk to the sink and see what terrible shape my face is in. My body shivers. I run the water until it’s slightly warm. If I splash cold water, it’s only going to make me colder than I already am. What is it with Waffle Houses and air conditioning? I’ve yet to visit one that wasn’t freezing to death.

  I turn the water off and look for something to dry my hands, but there are no paper towels, just an air dryer. Great. I bend forward slightly, hoping some of the warm air will dry my face, but I’m blown away by a blast of cyclonic wind. I use my hands to finish wiping my face then dry them on my pants.

  I stand at the door contemplating if I should turn the latch just yet. I muster as much courage as I can, and crack the door open. I peer my head out just enough to glance around the hallway, and sure enough, I don’t see or hear Brian. Standing just outside the door is a rather attractive young man, probably mid-twenties, looking at me with concern. I notice he has a handful of soiled napkins in his hands and there are wet spots all over the front of his clothes. I wonder if this has anything to do with the loud noises I heard while Brian was still here.

  I make my way out a little further and take in the sight of all the customers, with their eyes focused on me. I feel as though I’ve been the center of a freak show by the way they all stare at me. I’m probably making more out of their appearances than necessary, but right now, I feel pretty low and stupid. And, thoroughly embarrassed!

  The guy immediately grabs a chair from the corner for me to take a seat, while a waitress walks out from behind the counter and hands me a Styrofoam cup with a bubbling beverage I assume to be Coke. I take a swallow and the liquid soothes my parched throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Now hun, you gave us all a pretty big scare earlier. You going to be okay now?” Her southern drawl is comforting.

  I nod my head, unable to form any words just yet.

  “Just take a moment if you need to. There’s no rush. My name’s Nancy. If you need anything, just holler.” She walks back behind
the counter leaving me here with this concerned guy.

  He takes my purse and coat and sits them on the floor beside me. “Thanks.” I tell him. I take another quick glance around to assure myself that Brian is truly gone.

  “You going to be alright now?” He asks.

  “I think so. Thank you for asking.”

  “I’m not sure who that guy is, but you don’t deserve to be treated that way. It’s none of my business, but he’s a jackass.”

  “I’m so sorry to have caused such a scene in here. I hope he didn’t do that to you,” I say as I point to the stain on his shirt.

  “It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure he left you alone. It’s obvious he’s done something to upset you.”

  I’m unable to meet his eyes, embarrassed by this whole mess.

  I pull my phone out and see I have over a dozen missed phone calls from Brian, and almost as many texts. I forgot I had turned my phone to silent while taking my nap in the car earlier. I don’t bother listening to his messages or reading the texts for fear they will just upset me more. I drop the phone back down into my purse.

  I take another few sips of my drink and notice the restaurant is starting to empty. I figure everyone was waiting to see the outcome of our performance. The manager walks over and pulls a chair up on the opposite side of the counter from me.

  “You okay now?” His voice expresses deep concern.

  I reach up to wipe the hair away from my face. I know I look a mess. “I will be. Thank you for your concern.”

  “I don’t recognize you. Are you from around here?”

  “I’m from Morgantown. Do you know how far away it is from here?”

  “I’m guessing it’s about a six or seven hour drive. Is there someone I can call to come get you?” He is being very kind to me.

  “I’ve got my phone. Thank you though.” I pick my jacket up from the floor and the nice gentleman who came to my rescue drapes it over my shoulders for me.