The Paradise Box Set

by Leslie Pike

  The bus pulls to the curb, and my stomach turns over. I’m so close now. This is where it gets dangerous. I keep my possessions tight as I get off. I let the bus pull away, then I look both ways. There are only a few cars this time of the morning. And there’s no sign of Kevin. I walk to the crosswalk, and when the light changes I make my way across. I feel a little better when I’m on the other side, moving toward the two figures waiting five houses down, sitting in Grandma’s 2006 gold Honda Accord.

  It was my grandmother who came up with the plan. Three months ago, we told Kevin Grandma was selling her car, because she couldn’t drive anymore. In reality, her friend Eva kept it at her place. This was all so he wouldn’t think she had given me the car to get away from him. Which is exactly what she’s doing. We both know what he’s capable of. Now Grandma will be able to claim ignorance. She’s going to call my house at the regular time tonight and ask for me. Whatever he says, she’s going to act clueless and concerned. I’m almost sure he’ll buy it and never talk to her again.

  I’ve gone over these plans a thousand times. I’ve tried to think of every scenario. But it comes down to this. I’m running for my life. I’m scared to death and don’t know if I have it in me. But I’ve got to try. Otherwise, I know he’ll kill me someday. Things have escalated, and this is my only chance. As I walk up to the car, Grandma and Eva get out.

  “Esme, thank God.” I feel the warm embrace of my grandmother’s arms. I start to cry.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” I say through my tears.

  She runs her fingers over my hair, then takes my face in her hands.

  “I want you to. You’re going to get in this car and leave here. It’s the only way to make me happy, child. We’ll talk every day and we’ll be together again. We just can’t be together right now. I want you to save yourself, Esme.”

  I hug her tightly, not wanting to let go.

  “Here, let me show you what’s in the car.” She untangles my arms from around her waist.

  Eva opens the trunk and then puts an arm around me, as Grandma explains.

  “Your clothes are in the large suitcase and your toiletries in the smaller one. The copies of your tax returns and bank statements are tucked in the outside zippered pocket. There’s an extra key hidden under the left bumper. That’s in case you lose yours, or someone takes it.” She looks me in the eye. I know exactly what she’s saying. “The phone’s in the glove compartment. Eva put the free apps on that she told you about. Do you remember how to use them?

  “Yes. Thank you, Eva. Thanks for everything,” I say.

  Eva looks so sympathetic. Another of my angels. She nods her head. “OK, good. I’ve programmed in your destination on the GPS app. It will guide you all the way to Los Angeles. But in case you get mixed up, I’ve written your directions too. That’s in the glove compartment with the phone.”

  “Did you take care of the last items on your list?” Grandma says. I can see the tears are welling in her eyes.

  “Yes, Grandma. They’re all done. I did them all.”

  “Ok then love, it’s time for you to go.”

  “Oh Grandma, I love you. Only you, forever.”

  All three of us are crying openly now. Like children.

  “I love you too, sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I know it. This is going to be a new life for you. The one you were meant for. Remember to believe in yourself. I do.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Now get in the car. Make the call before you go. The number’s in the phone, then take off and don’t look back. Call me tonight when you get to the first stop. I’ll be with Eva. Here are the keys.”

  She hands me the keys, then gives me one last kiss on the top of my head. Just like she’s done since I was a child. I memorize what it feels like. This has got to last me. Then Grandma and Eva walk away toward the white Kia parked a few spaces ahead. She doesn’t look back, but I know she wants to. From behind, Grandma looks like a little old lady. But that view is misleading. I know just how tough this woman is. Even at eighty-three.

  I put my guitar case in the back seat of the Honda and toss my small duffle on the passenger seat as I slide in. I find the phone in the glove compartment. I’ve got one last thing to take care of before I make my getaway. I find the number I’m looking for. Ramada Inn Dallas. I hit the number. After three rings, it’s answered.

  “Ramada Inn Dallas. How may I assist you?”

  “Yes. I’d like to make a reservation for tonight. For one,” I say.

  “We do have accommodations available for tonight. Your name?”

  “Esme Scott.”

  “And will you be staying just the one night, Miss Scott?”

  “Yes. That’s all.”

  “Will you be paying with a credit card?”

  “Yes.”

  I have the whole thing memorized. I was never allowed to use the card, but I saw Kevin use it many times. When I knew this day was coming, I made sure I’d be able to reference the numbers without taking his card.

  “Alright. Your room will be available at three. And your card will be charged $64.00.”

  “That’s fine. But I won’t be there till at least seven. Can you hold that for me?”

  “Certainly. One last thing. Can I have your phone number, please?”

  “555-744-9755,” I say. So far so good.

  “See you this evening, Miss Scott.”

  We disconnect, and I start the car. Hopefully, when I don’t show up at the Ramada, they’ll call that number to see if they should hold the room. Then I know Kevin will take the bait and head for Texas. In the meantime, I’ll be on my way to Los Angeles, and my new life.

  As I move down the street, I pass my grandmother, watching me from Eva’s car. I want to see her do the thing that she does every time we leave each other. There it is. She touches her heart, kisses her hand, and blows me the kiss. Her eyes say everything.

  * * *

  I don’t start to loosen my grip till I’m ten miles out of Fairplay. And I only do it because my wrist is throbbing. I don’t want to think of the reason why. Why relive such a bad memory, of such a good example of abuse. I’m not even playing the radio; I’m just playing and replaying the plan in my head.

  Every time I went to Grandma’s, I studied the map. I know exactly how long each leg of the trip will take. I know where to stop for gas and where to look for a meal. I’m hoping to drive the nine hundred and seventy mile trip from Colorado to L.A. in two days. I want to be at Kizzy’s by six o’clock tomorrow night.

  Kizzy Parish. She’s been so kind to me, and the strange part is, we’ve never met. I shake my head at the thought. We’re both agreeing to help each other on the word of her mother, Eva. When Eva talked about my situation, and the fact that I needed to get away, Kizzy listened. Apparently, Eva’s husband was an abuser. And although it was forty years ago, the child never forgot the terror she felt for her mother. Luckily for them, the man walked out, abandoning the family when Kizzy was five. They didn’t have to run. It’s really sad when that’s the happy ending.

  When Eva told her I had some skill as a seamstress, Kizzy had an idea. She offered me a job for two months and a place to stay. Once again, my belief in angels proved me right. I’ll be working as her wardrobe assistant on a film. She’s an established costumer in the motion picture business and is responsible for hiring her staff. Maybe if I do a good enough job, it’ll work into something permanent. But there are no guarantees.

  Ever since the day I heard about her offer, I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. It’s my happy place, when reality won’t let me go. I think about what life will be like on a movie set. I don’t get very far, because I have nothing to base my imaginings on. What if I don’t measure up? Kevin told me many times my skills were overrated. What if he’s right? What if Kizzy realizes she made a huge mistake hiring me? What then?

  Eva and my grandmother have been our go betweens. I’ve talked with Kizzy on the phone a few times, and she seems so
kind and sure of herself. Never did she make me feel like I was going to be a burden. She acts like I’m doing her a favor. She talks about the great things she’s heard about my sewing and tailoring. I reminded her it’s my grandmother’s praise she’s hearing. I’m so used to being criticized, I don’t know how to respond.

  We’re going to be in Park City, Utah, for two months. It’s called being on location. I’ll have my own hotel room, and all my meals will be paid for. I told Kizzy we can take the Honda, so she wouldn’t have to put mileage on her car. I thought it was the least I could do. She graciously declined and said we’d only need the one car, and she’d prefer it be hers. So I’ll be able to store mine in her garage for the eight weeks. I’ll be sure to pay for gas whenever I can. I want her to know I’m no moocher and I’ll never take advantage of her kindness. I make a mental note to figure out how much I’ll be able to afford each week.

  Then there’s this thing called per diem that I’ll get. It’s money on top of my salary. I can’t believe this is true. What a great job for someone like me. They pay you extra cash to cover meals not eaten on set and for incidentals. Who wouldn’t work like a dog to keep these jobs?

  Kizzy told me who was starring in the film, and laughed when I didn’t know who they were. I’m sure I heard of one of the actors, a Jack somebody, but Kevin’s not too interested in films, so my knowledge is limited. Our TV reception wasn’t the best, so mostly we watched videos of the movies he liked. I think I saw every Steven Segal movie a hundred times. The other actor’s name didn’t ring a bell. Only the female comedian, who’s playing a nun in the film, was vaguely familiar. Barrie Blue. I love her name, so it stuck when I heard it.

  The movie’s about some Jesuit priests, so the wardrobe should be pretty straightforward. This I know something about. I’ve gone to church every Sunday since I went to live with Grandma. I’ve got a pretty good idea about what clergy wear and the special vestments for feast days. At least I’ll have something to contribute if asked.

  I come out of my daydreaming to realize it’s time to fill up. I’d better pay attention. It’s amazing that I haven’t thought of Kevin for thirty miles. And for today, I need to keep him in my thoughts. In case he’s on my trail. He must surely know by now, what’s happened. He almost always calls me at the end of his lunch break, and I’d better answer or there’d be hell to pay. I can almost feel his anger from here.

  For the rest of the day, and into early evening, I keep driving. I try to focus on the road and stay away from imagining what this new world is going to be like. I’m not entirely successful. There are so many wonderful things to dream about. I wish I could just keep driving straight through, till I get to my safe place. If that even exists. But as soon as I see the sign for my turnoff, I know it’s time to rest. I’ve accomplished the first leg of my journey. I need to reboot and call Grandma. She’s waiting, I know.

  It’s the first time I’ve checked into a hotel room on my own. The last time I was in a hotel room was on my wedding night, five years ago. That was the beginning of my nightmare. My introduction to sex was not as I imagined. A shiver runs down my spine as I think of how it was. My girlish fantasy involved tenderness and patience. I thought it was supposed to feel good. Maybe not at first, but soon. That never happened.

  And I imagined there’d be words of love and romance. I was so wrong. My experience involved pain and tears. I couldn’t have been more delusional in my expectations. I don’t know a thing about other people’s sex lives, but if this is what sex is, you can have it. Not interested.

  I refocus on my job at hand and park the car at the back entry of the hotel. I check in and quickly bring my things to my room. I keep the curtains closed and double lock the door. I look through the peephole to see what my field of vision is, in case Kevin tracks me down. When I’m satisfied I’ve done everything right, I get my phone. I know Grandma’s waiting. She answers on the first ring.

  “Grandma, it’s me.”

  “Esme. Oh, I can breathe now. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. I’m in the hotel room.”

  “Good. Any trouble?”

  “No. It went perfectly. Have you talked to Kevin?”

  “I talked to him at seven. I called just like we planned.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was drunk. But he said he had just gotten home. His boss had him work a few hours overtime. That worked in our favor.”

  “Was he mad?”

  “Oh yeah. He thought you’d be with me. I told him I was at my friends for the night, and I hadn’t talked to you since this morning. I acted worried and asked him to have you call me whenever you get home.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  There’s a pause at the other end. I know she doesn’t want to tell me something.

  “Just tell me,” I say.

  “He said, ‘You’d better be telling me the fucking truth, old lady.”

  My stomach twists with disgust.

  “Don’t worry, honey. He’s not going to come after me. It’s you he wants. And together, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Just get to Kizzy’s by tomorrow night. You’ll be safe there.”

  I’m hoping she’s right.

  * * *

  My phone alarm goes off at six in the morning. Man, these phones can do everything. I took my shower last night, so a quick brush of the teeth and hair is all it takes to be ready. When I look in the mirror, I see the effect the last twenty-four hours have had on me. I look so tired. But behind that I see something else. I think this is what they call the strength of desperation. Emotional strength. It’s not like I’m lifting a car off my trapped child, but more like I’m lifting an emotional weight off myself. Now I know something new. I had the strength to leave him. I’ve got to keep reminding myself of that, because I get scared and doubt myself by the hour.

  I braid my long hair, just to keep it out of the way. It makes me look like I’m twelve. I’m out of the room in ten minutes. I grab an apple and a complimentary coffee in the lobby, and head for my car. I don’t want to waste time stopping to eat. I’ll get a breakfast sandwich down the road, in a few hours.

  Today I’m feeling a little bit lighter. Just the distance from him lifts my mood. Being on my own, and answering only to myself, is heady. Today I don’t have to watch what I say or do. Whenever I was with Kevin, I had to walk on eggshells. Even when I was talking to salespeople or grocery checkers I was weighing my words, afraid he was going to read something into the exchange. One nanosecond extra of a smile or a look was misinterpreted and punished. So I just got quiet. He was certain every man I spoke to was after me, or I was after them. I’d feel his eyes on me. Just the thought of that brings a lump to my throat. So I stop thinking about it and remind myself I’m free of my prison.

  I listen to music all the rest of the way across Utah, and by the time I make it to California, I know every word of the Top Ten Hits. Both Pop and Rap. The fact that I get to listen to music I find appealing is exciting to me. Instead of the two stations Kevin liked, I get to change the station as often as I want. I’m aware of how pathetic that sounds. I go from Country to Rock; I listen to a cooking show and then try a Rap station. That one is particularly satisfying, because Kevin thought Rap was stupid. Turns out it was Kevin who was stupid.

  “Stupid ass.” When I say it out loud, it sounds great. “STUPID ASS KEVIN!”

  But when I get to the freeways of Los Angeles, all other thoughts fade. The radio is turned off, and I’m on high alert. This is confusing. By the time I’m in the heart of the city, I’ve had to stop twice to check my directions. I get on a wrong freeway, then correct my mistake. Finally I’m on the right path. I remind myself that I can do this.

  I can.

  I’m almost there. It’s only a few miles now. Good thing, because it’s getting dark and my eyes are so tired.

  I turn right on Kizzy’s street. Easy Street. Ha, ha, that’s a good sign, right? I’m sort of punch drunk, I’m so tired an
d spent of everything. I just want to stop running. As I pull up to the charming cottage, with the weeping birch trees and the blooming jasmine bush in front, I see her through the window. Kizzy. She’s waiting for me. She hears my car, looks up, and smiles.

  I made it.

  Chapter Four

  Finn

  I see the MacArthur turnoff to the airport. With my house in Dana Point, I can easily access the 73 Tollway and avoid the freeways. I do that as often as possible. Fuck the freeways in Los Angeles. I hate them. This route is pure pleasure, especially on a day like today. It’s pretty much the promised land here. And it’s close enough to L.A. and the studios. Besides. I’m just trying it on for size. I’m not sure where I’ll end up settling. For now, it’s a beach town in Orange County.

  In south Orange County, flowers bloom with little effort. It’s green and manicured here. Particularly Newport Beach and the cities along the coast. It’s almost like Disneyland everywhere you look. I expect to see men with brooms and dustpans come out of the bushes, picking up every bit of paper as soon as it’s dropped. The birds shit glitter here.

  John Wayne Airport is to the right, about three miles down the road. I check the time. I’m ok. Paul’s plane lands at five thirty. I’m picking him up outside Southwest’s baggage. The first time someone referred to this airport I thought they were joking. Oh yeah, John Wayne that famous aviator. I was wrong. This is where the star lived and raised his family. He had a boat in Newport Harbor, and he was as loved here as he was anywhere. As far from cowboy country or battlefields as it comes. That’s the power of celebrity. People believe you’re as good, as moral and as heroic as the characters you portray. They don’t really look too much deeper, where they’d find the real human being. They want you to be the idealized version of themselves. Even though it’s never true. When you’ve really touched their hearts, they might name airports after you in appreciation.