Isolated Encounter

by Sarah Alabaster

  “No, it’s not.”

  He looked at her, trying to figure out the extent of the truth she could handle. Seemingly assured with what he saw in her, he decided it was okay to lay it all on the table.

  “No, it isn’t, but it will be okay. I promise you it will.”

  Her tears continued to fall unencumbered as they trickled down her face into her lap, seemingly at their own accord. She sucked some much-needed air into her chest, but couldn’t get enough and started to gasp. Over and over she cycled through gasps for air mixed with shaky puffs and rocking back and forth. Several minutes passed without any relief.

  “Relax, Katie. You’re just having a panic attack.”

  Justin held her hand as she continued to struggle through the effects the panic had on her body.

  Fuck, is that what this is?

  Her body begun to shake uncontrollably as the chaos around her continued unaffected by what was going on just a few feet away.

  “Just breathe, honey. Relax and breathe,” Justin chanted over and over while continuing to hold her hand, rubbing his thumb across it in circles, trying to sooth her.

  “Can’t,” she said as she gasped for more and more air.

  “Mom! Do you have that paper bag we stowed for just this occasion?”

  “Yes, honey. I’ll get it.”

  Annie ran toward the bag that lay on the front porch.

  Were these people for real right now? Didn’t anyone seem to be concerned she couldn’t breathe? What kind of a doctor was Justin that he wasn’t at all concerned that she was turning blue?

  “You’re not turning blue, and you know I wouldn’t let you not breathe.”

  Crap! She said that out loud.

  “Yes, you did.”

  Crap. She had said that out loud, too.

  “Katelyn Elizabeth! Stop saying crap!” her mother chimed in as she handed Justin the paper bag.

  Her mom placed the puffed-out bag in her hand as Justin instructed her on how to hold it. She took several deep breaths that calmed her so she could breathe normally again. After several minutes, her breathing steadied and she was able to calm down.

  “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good, now let’s get you up so the guys can take the couch.”

  “Okay.”

  She guessed that was the extent of her meltdown in front of them. They seemed to mean business, and refused to waste time on little things like breathing.

  “Um, Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “What should I do?”

  “Well, if you’d like, you could help pack up the kitchen with Earl.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? Was anything okay? Would it ever be okay again?

  Chapter Two

  “Pull the car over, you fucking bitch.”

  Gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers turned white, I could barely move as his voiced echoes in my ear, just a hair’s breath away. Closing my eyes as the waves of nausea take over, I forced my free hand to cross my stomach as I convulsed, dry heaving the empty contents of my stomach.

  Finally the sound of car horns in the distance began to teleport me back to the here and now. Shaking my head to clear away the thoughts that came flooding back out of nowhere, I looked toward the passenger seat, expecting to see him there watching me like he used to in that intimidating way he had that always grated on my nerves.

  No one’s there. No one is ever there, yet his voice is as clear as the day is long.

  “Go away” is all I could say in a whisper in the otherwise-empty vehicle.

  As the light turned red again, the horns behind me were blaring, understandably angry that we’d missed that green light.

  Gee, sorry! I say in my head, with a wave of my hand out the window. I felt as though I would forever be haunted with these flashbacks from another time, when my life was so consumed by his darkness.

  Seven years wasn’t long enough to forget the terror he’d instilled in me. It had been seven years since I’d left my husband, Randall, with the intension to never see him again as long as I lived. Seven years of therapy and counseling and quests to find the person I was, only to realize that she is the person I am now. Seven years to realize that the pieces of a shattered life were worth living, no matter how much fear I felt along the way.

  My family saved me that day. The day I stopped by mom’s house for a reprieve, only to be whisked away to the freedom I never thought I would have again. Papers were drawn up by the lawyers, so I just had to sign on the dotted line. There were proceedings I didn’t have to attend because of restraining orders filed with judges. I would never have to face the man that made my life a living hell for so long. My family, always ultra-supportive in their nature, moved everyone clear across the country, changing our last names in the process.

  I felt a sense of freedom when I thought of the life I now lived. I felt love for the family I had, yet I still felt a sense of dread for the future ahead. It was a dread that came from always looking over my shoulder, wondering if or when he would ever find me. Find us. I was free now, sure, but for how long? How long would this reprieve last? How long before he returned to take back what he felt was rightfully his?

  Now that I was free of the shackles of a tremulous marriage born out of my hasty decision to wed, I wanted to find real love. I wanted to be truly free. I was free, damn it! But like a tsunami that rushes wildly across the shores, my inner turmoil wreaked havoc on my notions of the future.

  So I repeated the following words over and over like a mantra.

  I am free. I am free.

  Maybe someday I would actually believe it.

  Finally the light turned green again, and this time I didn’t hesitate to move through the intersection. As vehicles passed me, I found myself smiling at the fact that he was not here. He was gone, and in that moment, I decided that it was time to let it go of him for good.

  ***

  The curtains danced from the breeze that made its way through the open window of my bedroom. My home was fabulous, with all the features I adored. There was a large kitchen with an island that took up the size of a buffet table. Brand-new stainless-steel appliances gleamed with so many options that I had yet to figure out how they all worked, even after three years of owning them.

  The living room was just off the kitchen in an open-floor concept of my own creation. I wanted to feel like I was part of the conversation no matter where I was in the house. Not only were the living room and kitchen attached and open, but so was the outside recreation area, with a wall full of sliding doors that separated the interior from the exterior. It accentuated the view of the mountains that surrounded us, but it also gave me the ability to see, hear, and smell what my family was doing when they came over.

  Having the ability to feel part of everything was something my counselor said would be critical to my ability to take some semblance of control of my life. What this all meant was that while I used to feel helpless, now I didn’t. Gold star for me in the mental health scorecard!

  I loved where we live now. Though I missed my friends from my old town, I’d found new friends here. Even though they didn’t know much about my past, they sure were protective enough to let it go and never ask about it.

  I guessed breaking down one too many times because of the strangest things would do that to people.

  I hadn’t noticed any men since we came to this town and settled into our routine, either. I guess you could say the idea of marriage had forever been tainted for me, but I really had no desire to try again anytime soon.

  I was still watching the wind pick up the curtain from the bottom of the window. It rose toward the ceiling, only to cascade down again in waves. It was hypnotizing—not only in the dance—but also to realize that this was my life, and I loved everything about it.

  For the first time in months, the nightmares hadn’t woken me. The tears didn’t fall as I slept, and the sheets were not tangled around me, constrictin
g my movements. Instead, the sheet laid on top of the bed, and I was just next to it. With a smile, I took this all as a good sign of things to come.

  Looks like that little talk had worked. Now let it go.

  A text pinged off my phone on the nightstand. Not wanting to break the bubble, I luxuriated in the moment and decided to let it go. I continued to watch the show playing across my window instead.

  Ping.

  Expelling a breath, I groaned in frustration, knowing deep down that it wasn’t going to stop, but I just didn’t want to be drawn in quite yet.

  Ping.

  Placing my arm over my eyes, I wallowed in what was left of my tranquility.

  Ping.

  Seriously, I was trying to be tranquil here, people!

  Ping.

  Oh, my God! Couldn’t I sleep in and enjoy my morning?

  I finally snapped as I grabbed the phone off the nightstand and stuffed it under my pillow.

  There!

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  The pillow only seemed to muffle the sounds; it didn’t stop them completely. I just found them a more annoying version of what they’d used to be.

  “FINE!”

  Removing the phone from under my pillow, I turned, tossing my legs off the side of the bed. Since this required me to get up, I decided I might as well face my fate. The tranquil morning I had relished was now history.

  Ping.

  “Oh. My. God!”

  As though the person on the other end could see and hear me, I screamed at the screen, willing it to finally stop bothering me. Which of course it didn’t. It just continued mocking me with the pinging that went on non-stop for what seemed like hours, only to find it’s actually four text messages. Turns out the continuous pinging was a result of me not addressing them in the first place.

  Mom: Darling, are you up yet?

  Mom: This is your mother. I need you to get up and help me.

  Mom: Are you up now?

  Mom: Well, as soon as you get up, I need you to stop by my place and grab the boxes on the porch. Bring them by the church so I can put them with the rest of the donations.

  For this I had to leave my tranquility?

  Ping.

  Mom: Honey, sorry to bother you while you’re apparently sleeping in, but I can’t leave here to grab the boxes since people are already coming to drop off items.

  Sometimes she was creepy when she did that, but okay, that answered that question. Eager to make the pinging stop, I quickly responded with a “no problem, be in there in about an hour” message. Then I headed off to shower and get ready for the day.

  ***

  The song on the radio was rather solemn, and I found myself slipping back into memories I’d rather have forgotten when I realized I was once again at the stoplight I missed before. Crap. It dawned on me that I needed to think of something else and change this blasted song before it triggered another flashback that I so didn’t need at the moment.

  Turning the station, I found a tune I loved and began dancing in my seat. Anything to keep myself busy so the flashback didn’t happen. As if I could control it. Sometimes I could, and sometimes no matter what I did, I just couldn’t seem to stop it from happening.

  As I looked to my left, I found eyes watching me. Not haunting or angry in any way, just straight-out amused. With a broad smile on his chiseled features, I realized instantly who was staring back at me. It was none other than Zackary Collins, the mayor.

  “Shit!” I screamed, and stopped what I was doing, which of course made him chuckle.

  But then the light turned green and I gunned it across the road toward the church. Without looking back or even seeing how fast I was going, I slammed on the brakes, making the wheels lock up in that way that made my body slam against the seat beat.

  “Ooffff!”

  The air rushed from my lungs as the belt crushed into me. Turning the wheel, I found a spot right away and parked my truck close enough to the doors to bring the boxes inside. I was thankful that I didn’t have to explain myself to the one person that made me react so foolishly whenever I was in his presence.

  “There you are!” my mom said as she crossed the room toward me, taking one of the boxes off the pile in my hands.

  “You wouldn’t believe what just happened.”

  I was unable to continue, then I noticed that my mom’s attention was drawn toward the door.

  And then the one thing that could possibly make this day get any worse walked through it.

  “Hi, Zack! You here to help us collect donations?”

  Crap!

  Closing my eyes, I felt my cheeks turn the brightest shade of red.

  “Of course. I’m here to help.” he said with an exuberance that made me want to throttle him. “Can’t let an opportunity like this pass me by.”

  Then he walked past me, not even glancing my way. He just headed toward my mom to shake her hand.

  I may just have been overreacting to this being an unbearable day, I thought to myself. He didn’t bring up the stoplight encounter at all, and he didn’t seem to be interested in speaking to me in the slightest. Expelling my pent-up breath, I didn’t even realize I was holding it until I turned to walk toward the stage.

  “I just saw your daughter at the stoplight, and I can’t believe we just ended up at the same place.”

  So much for not saying anything. At least he didn’t mention my little dance of embarrassment to her. Thank God for small favors.

  As the town mayor, Zackary Collins was younger than most people would expect an elected official to be at the ripe old age of thirty-two. Though unheard of in most parts, Zackary’s family had been part of the town since its founding over a hundred years ago. They were still active participants, to boot, and Zackary had grown up caring for this town and all its dealings, making it his business to push through platforms that benefited the community at large.

  It seemed inevitable that Zackary would end up mayor at some point. His natural ability to ensure that parks be built instead of parking lots made him a popular guy. He also managed to get the streets repaired when it looked as though all hopes of the state doing it were lost. All of this made him a natural candidate for mayor. It seemed to come as a complete surprise to Zack, however, when he went to cast his vote at the last election, and only then realized that his name was on it.

  Now in his second term in office after a rather successful first term, he’d been doing well despite the awkward transition. Zackary, as he insisted the townspeople call him, seemed to love every minute of his job, and he resonated his happiness to everyone he came into contact with throughout the day.

  Suddenly noticing the flinch in my reaction regarding the incident at the light, Zack abruptly ceased his story. He shot a glance in my direction as his lip creased up into the semblance of a sideways smile.

  I wanted to find the nearest dark corner to hide in, but that would only draw more attention to myself. As he left my mother, who is completely charmed by him, I was curious if he would say anything directly to me.

  When his body brushed against mine, I knew the answer. Maybe he was just trying to mess with me? When he brushed past me a second time, I began falling back from the contact, even though it wasn’t so much as a slight brush against my skin.

  I end up tripping on the box next to my feet, sending the box in my arms flying into the air. As my ass hit the floor, rather hard, mind you, I huffed out a groan when the box came down on my arm, slicing into my skin as it pitched forward against my leg. Though it wasn’t too heavy, it did land in an awkward angle, which made me cry out in pain.

  “Oh crap! Are you alright?”

  His eyes flew to mine as he reached down to me on the floor.

  “Ow.”

  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?”

  Mom, ever the protector, rushed up just as he was trying to explain his actions.

  “I brushed against her when I passed to get to the s
tage, but apparently being the big oaf that I am, I must have brushed a bit too hard, and she fell. I’m so sorry. Let me help you up.”

  He extended his hand to help me up, and I gladly took it so I could escape all the eyes around the room now fixated on me. As I stood, though, the direction of my eyes fixated on my arm—or rather, the copious amounts of blood pouring out of it.

  “Is that blood?”

  It’s all I managed to get out before my world turned to darkness and I hit the ground on my way to oblivion.

  ***

  What seemed like a bad dream—though not a complete nightmare—stayed with me when I awoke sometime later. The light was bright against my eyes, and the room seemed smaller than I remembered it being for my bedroom. Curious as to where I was, I opened one eye at a time, only to find someone hovering over me.

  “Sweet Jesus!” I gasped, and clutched the sheet to my chest, as though that slim barrier of protection would thwart any would-be assailant.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Hands stilled my movements as I swallowed back the scream that wanted to escape my lips. Unable to recognize the voice right away, I blinked away the haze to look up into the most gorgeous blue eyes I had ever seen. It wasn’t only the color that had me captivated; it was also the concern in them that had me transfixed. Concern for what, though? I had no idea. Just the idea of that concern for me stole my breath.

  “You fainted. I brought you in… Then they fixed your arm…”

  Distraught over my reaction to his hovering, he rambled on and on for what seemed like several minutes before I realized it was Zack. It seemed as if my bad dream wasn’t a dream but real-life nightmare that I couldn’t wake from.

  Oh, crap!

  Caught in my internal reflection of what lay before me, the thought of what I must look like to this man had me unwillingly brushing my hands over my hair.

  But he just continued to ramble on in an attempt to explain the whole situation to me.

  I felt at ease in his presence. Here I was just barely conscious as the most beautiful man I had even seen in my life attempted to rationalize his actions to me. How did I even handle this? Should I call him Zackary? I mean, Mayor Collins?