Escape In You

by Rachel Schurig

  “We’re almost there,” he shouts. “Let go! Put your hands up, like this.” He releases the bar, holding his hands straight over his head. I take a deep breath and follow suit. I can feel us start to level out, know we’re at the crest. Soon we’ll tip forward and plunge over the hill. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. “No way!” he calls out. “Open those eyes, Zoe. You need to see this!”

  I’m beyond terrified. With my arms raised and nothing to hang on to, I feel like I’m about to become untethered from the Earth, like our train won’t ever actually stop and we’ll all be flung away into space. But there’s something in Taylor’s voice that I instinctively respond to. He wants me to experience this, and that makes me want to experience it.

  So I open my eyes just as we reach the very top. The lake is spread out to one side, glittering blue in the sunlight. I feel like I can see for miles, and it’s so, so beautiful. I catch a fleeting glimpse of Taylor’s face as I turn my attention to the track, to the drop, and then we’re falling and it’s so fast and so steep I can’t do anything but scream. The world is a blur around me, and I’m falling, falling, falling.

  About halfway down I realize that I’m not screaming anymore—I’m laughing my head off. This is one the most amazing feelings I’ve ever had. The wind and the speed and the drop of my stomach. It’s incredible.

  We reach the bottom of the first hill and immediately swoop up again, the track turning on its side. We’re twisting around and my stomach seems to be way back in the station. All I can do is laugh and laugh. We shoot through a tunnel, the darkness enveloping us, and then up another crest and I’m weightless again. I lose track of the hills and the twists and the turns. All I know is this is seriously, seriously fun and I have no idea why I was ever afraid.

  All too soon it’s over and we’re pulling back into the station. Everyone on our train is clapping and I join in. “That was amazing!” I yell to Taylor, still laughing.

  He leans over and kisses me, hard. “You’re amazing,” he says. “I told you, didn't I? Total badass.”

  ***

  I’m relieved to find that Ellie enjoyed the ride as much as I did. That means we’re clear to ride pretty much everything else, though she says she needs to work up to Dragster a little more. That’s perfectly fine, since there are thirteen coasters in the park. We ride them all, even the oldest one, a rickety wooden thing that seems like a kiddie coaster compared to Millennium. There’s a stand-up coaster, a hanging coaster, coasters that send you spinning upside down, coasters that plunge you backwards down the track.

  I’ve never had so much fun.

  Taylor has to drag me from the rides to eat lunch. “You look like a little kid,” he says as we find a picnic table by the hot dog stand. Ellie and Fred volunteer to get in the lengthy line while we hold the seats. Taylor straddles the bench so he can face me, and brushes my tangled hair away from my face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good time,” I admit.

  He beams at me, and my stomach swoops a little. I can’t be sure if it’s an aftereffect of the last ride or a response to how he’s looking at me right now.

  “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?” he asks.

  I look down at the picnic table, wishing he hadn’t asked. The day has been so good so far, and I don’t want to bring up all the crap that usually weighs me down.

  “When I was a junior in high school my mom’s condition got worse,” I say, not lifting my eyes. “That summer, on my birthday, she…she had to be hospitalized.”

  I close my eyes, my mind filled with the image of her body, cold and lifeless, the way I had found her that day…

  “It was bad. And things were just never really the same after that. The last few years she’s been too…out of it, I guess, to even remember what day it is. So I just stopped thinking of it as something to be excited about.”

  I still don’t look up, but I can feel him staring at me.

  “When we first met,” he says softly, “you told me you weren’t ready for summer to come. I remember it because I was thinking about how much I hated summer. This is why, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, summer has been rough for me lately. It doesn’t help that everyone comes home from college with all of their exciting stories and experiences.”

  “Because you should have gone with them.”

  It’s more of a statement than a question, but I nod anyhow.

  “Jim died in the summer.”

  I finally look up, meeting his gaze. I can see the pain in his face, and I feel such an overwhelming rush of affection for him that it takes my breath away. He hates talking about his brother, hates talking about his death even more, yet he offers me this information. Not to make me feel better, or worse, but to connect us. To let me know that he understands the shitty stuff, that I don’t have to hide or pretend with him.

  “I used to think I’d never be able to enjoy the season again,” he says, never breaking eye contact with me. “That it would always remind me of those terrible days sitting by his bed. But now…”

  “Now?”

  He smiles, even though he still looks sad. “Now I think maybe I’ll have different summer memories. I mean, the stuff with Jim will always be there. But maybe it won’t be the only thing that stands out in my mind when I think about summer.”

  I grin, feeling lighter, somehow. “Like, maybe, kisses on the beach?”

  His smile grows. “Yup. And baking in the kitchen.”

  “Roller coasters.”

  He inches closer to me. “You, naked, in my bed.”

  I laugh and move even closer to him. “Museums.”

  His eyes give off that familiar, amused twinkle that always makes me think I might blush. “You, naked in my shower.”

  “You have a one-track mind, mister.” Then I’m kissing him, his tongue is parting my lips, my fingers are in his hair.

  It’s not quite like a roller coaster, but it sure does feel like falling.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Zoe

  I spend the night with Taylor. I know I should go home, that I’ve been away too long. After all, the last time I left my mom for an entire day I came home to her baking frantically. I should at least check on her.

  But when I drop off Ellie and Fred, and Taylor asks me if I’ll stay with him, his fingers running along the outside of my thigh, I can’t resist. I spent the entire day just like a normal girl would on her twenty-second birthday, and I’m not ready to give up the illusion yet. I know what’s waiting for me at home, know it will be there tomorrow too. Tonight I just want to hang on to the feeling, however misguided, that I can be happy and normal.

  I love waking up in Taylor’s arms, love that he holds me all night without once letting go. I love puttering around his kitchen together, making coffee, teasing each other, eating cereal at his breakfast bar. I should probably be scared of how much I love all these things, how easily I can see myself here, in his space, for a long time to come. But I’m way too happy to worry about it.

  We get dressed with plans to go get his car at the shop. “I still can’t believe you built me a Jeep,” I say, leaning against his desk as I watch him pull a shirt on. “Did I sufficiently thank you for that?”

  “I can think of a few more ways you can thank me.” He grins wickedly, and I shake my head.

  “You’re pathetic.”

  He holds up both hands. “It’s not my fault! You’re really good at sex.”

  “Good at sex? Wow, you really know how to compliment a girl.”

  He laughs, and I push off from the desk, wanting to get my hands on him again. He’s just so cute when he laughs, as if all his bad boy swagger disappears for a minute. When I move, a piece of paper falls from the desk to the floor. As Taylor roots around in the kitchen for his wallet, I bend to pick it up.

  Dear Mr. Taylor,

  Congratulations on your acceptance…

  I’m not really snooping, bu
t I can’t help but notice the words on the sheet as I move to put it back on the desk. Acceptance? My eyes flick to the top of the page, and the logo of a university in Rhode Island jumps out at me.

  “Taylor, what is this?”

  The remains of his laughter freeze on his face as he takes in the paper in my hand. “That’s, uh, nothing. No big deal.”

  He walks toward me and snatches the letter out of my hand before I can look at it again. I’m stung. “It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like an acceptance letter.” I swallow. “Are you going to college in the fall?”

  He shakes his head, slipping the folded-up paper into his back pocket. “No, it’s just something stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

  I cross my arms, getting pissed now. “If you didn’t want me to know, you could’ve just told me it’s private. You don’t have to act like it’s nothing.”

  He turns to me, his eyes searching my face, as if he’s looking for something there. Finally, he sighs. “Last spring I applied to the Rhode Island School of Design. It was before we met, a bet with Fred when he was home for spring break. I lost the bet, so I had to do it. I didn't think anything would ever come of it. But it turns out, I got in.”

  My mouth drops open. I don’t know much about art schools, but I’m pretty sure Rhode Island is top of the line. It doesn’t surprise me, either. He’s amazing. So why do I suddenly feel like crying?

  “That’s awesome, Taylor,” I say softly. “Really. Congratulations.”

  He lets out a breath and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I’m not even going to accept. It was just a stupid bet.”

  I stare at him, confused. “Wait, what? You don’t want to go? Are you serious? Why don't you want to go?”

  “Drop it, Zoe,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. It sends a little shiver down my spine. I’ve heard him take that tone only once, right before he beat the shit out of Preston.

  “But I don’t understand why you aren’t considering this. I know it’s not money.” His eyes flash at that, but I continue. “You told me doing something with art was your biggest dream. So why aren’t you jumping on this?”

  He turns away from me, and places both hands on the countertop. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But, Taylor, this could be your chance to—”

  He interrupts me by slamming his hands down onto the laminate so hard the noise reverberates in my ears. “Damn it, Zoe, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But—”

  He spins around, and I gasp. His eyes look wild, his face twisted up in what I can only assume is fury. “You have no fucking idea, okay?” he says, his voice low and just barely controlled. “You have no idea what my life is like. I can’t just leave, Zoe. I’m trapped here.” He comes forward, bending toward me so that his face is inches from mine. “I’m fucking trapped here, and there’s nothing I can do about it but try to make the best of it. So please, fucking. Drop. It.”

  It would hurt less if he’d slapped me. “That’s what this is, huh?” I gesture between the two of us. “You’re just making the best of things, right?”

  His face falls. “No, Zoe, of course not. I didn’t mean us—”

  He reaches for me, but I step away, my every instinct telling me to protect myself, to get away. I’ve made a huge mistake. I’ve been pretending this thing with us was just some fun, just a diversion, but that was all bullshit. I’m in love with Taylor, absolutely and fully. And I have never been more terrified.

  “Zoe, wait, please,” Taylor says, still reaching for me. His hands are shaking, and he must notice it, too, because he pulls back. “I need…I just need a minute.”

  He turns and walks quickly to the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. I try to convince myself that he isn’t trying to get away from me, that he’s simply doing his best to manage his anger. It’s a big step, really, that he could see he needed a break. It’s what we have been working on together, and I should be proud of him. But in this moment it’s hard to see his withdrawal as anything but him needing distance from me.

  My cell phone rings in my purse and I reach for it, relieved, thinking it will be Ellie. She would be a welcome escape from a morning that has suddenly become far too complicated.

  But it isn’t Ellie, or anyone else that can provide me with an escape.

  “Is this Miss Janes?” a brisk female voice asks, and my stomach drops. I’ve gotten a call like this before.

  “It is.” My voice is thick. “What’s…is something wrong?”

  “Miss Janes, your mother was brought in to the emergency room this morning by the state police. We’ve been attempting to reach her husband, but we’ve been unsuccessful.”

  “The state police?” I ask, my heart beating fast.

  The woman on the other end of the line hesitates before going on. “She was found walking on the highway and resisted any efforts to help her. I think you’d better come in, Miss Janes, so we can talk about her condition in person.”

  I close my eyes. I know exactly what kind of condition she’ll be in. “I’ll be right there.”

  I hang up and focus on taking deep breaths, needing to keep the panic at bay. I open my eyes and look up at Taylor’s closed door. I want to go to him, to ask him to help me through this. I’ve been here before with my mother and know just how bad things are about to get. And I don’t want to be alone. I need him.

  And that’s your biggest mistake, I think. Needing someone only leads to disappointment. Hasn’t my mother taught me that a thousand times over the years? And I’m just as bad— this morning, maybe last night, she had needed me, and where had I been? Here with Taylor, unavailable and unreliable, just like her.

  The best any of us can hope for, and the one thing my mother could never achieve, is to be strong enough to pull through on our own. Taylor’s words just now had proved to me that I was on my own anyhow—I’d been so busy falling for him that I hadn’t even noticed he was just making the best of his own shitty situation.

  I square my shoulders, grab my purse, and head out of his apartment, ready to face whatever is about to come—alone.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Zoe

  I feel like I’m living in a nightmare. Real life shouldn’t be like this. Real life shouldn’t be finding out that your mother was found wandering the interstate half-naked with cuts all over her arms, brandishing a kitchen knife. Real life shouldn’t be knowing that even now she is being restrained in a hospital bed for her own protection. That she can be heard screaming about the devil even here in the waiting room.

  Real life shouldn’t be dealing with these horrific things all on my own.

  I’ve been trying to reach Jerry for the past hour. But his cell phone is disconnected, and the house phone rings and rings with no answer. I’m finally able to get a hold of his boss at the plant, and he tells me Jerry hasn’t been in for three days and is now officially terminated.

  I feel sick to my stomach. I harbor no love for my mother’s abusive, alcoholic husband, but he is her husband. He should be the one here dealing with this shit, not me. What do I know about insurance policies and lawyers and involuntary psychiatric holds?

  My terror takes my breath away. My mother has experienced episodes before, but nothing like this. She’d broken things around the house, attacked me or Jerry, had once even gone into one of her deluded rages in a candy shop, breaking an entire row of handmade chocolate Easter bunnies. The cops had been called on several occasions, and we’d ended up in the ER. But it had never been this bad. And there’d always been someone else there to take responsibility for her, to convince the doctors they’d be able to take care of her, that they had it under control. I try to tell them I can handle her, but I don’t think they believe me.

  “She needs specialized care, Zoe. In a hospital,” a no-nonsense female doctor whose name I can't seem to remember tells me.

  I blink at her. “I don’t understand. She’s in a hospital.”
>
  Something like pity comes over her face. “Not a regular hospital. An inpatient psychiatric hospital. Someplace where they can help her with her specific issues.”

  Oh my God, this woman wants my mother to be institutionalized.

  I try to speak, but my throat is too dry. I clear it three times before I’m finally able to talk. “We…we’d never be able to afford something like that.”

  Her gaze remains steady on my face. “There are state-run institutions, Zoe. If alternate arrangements cannot be made, I believe a judge will require her to be admitted.”

  “Are you…you’re talking about places for criminals, aren’t you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, Zoe. Your mother is not a criminal. While these institutions may have some residents who have committed crimes, there will also be many patients who are simply unable to care for themselves. Some will be there voluntarily.”

  “My mother will never agree to that.” My voice is flat. I don’t much like the sound of what she’s describing, but that’s really beside the point. I know my mom won’t go for it.

  “Zoe, if a judge deems her to be a danger to herself or others, she may not have a choice. She’s very ill, and she needs help. And if she doesn’t get help, the chances of something worse happening are very high. She could have hurt someone today.”

  I close my eyes, shamed to my core. I should have been home with her. Wasn’t that the precise reason I had never gone away to school? The reason I quit my job last year, why I still lived in that horrible house I hated so much? So I could protect my mother—and the people she came into contact with.

  “Can I see her?” I whisper, my gaze firmly on my folded hands so the doctor won't see the tears that have gathered there.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, her voice soft and kind and very sad.