Never Let You Go(3)

“Yes, yes!” I lowered her down, pressed my hands to the sides of her face, and kissed her cheeks, her lips, her suntan-lotion-scented nose, her hair that had dried into salty ropes.

Andrew was talking with the lifeguard. “I’m sorry my wife put you all through this. She has an overactive imagination.” He smiled and made little circles by his head.

The lifeguard gave him a confused smile, dropped a hand onto my shoulder, and peered into my face. “Drink some more water, senora. The sun, it’s very hot, sí?”

He left us alone. The crowd was dispersing, but I could feel their judgment, the whispers. I didn’t care. I had Sophie. She was solid and real and standing in front of me.

“I was so scared,” I told her. “I saw your dolphin in the water.”

“Daddy and I were playing and it floated away. He said we could get it later.”

Andrew was staring out at the water. I tried to read his expression but he was wearing sunglasses. How angry was he that I’d made a fuss?

“It just kept floating away,” he said. “Thought we might never see it again.” Then he grabbed Sophie’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of the sun.”



We were sitting under the umbrella. I was still shaking, though the sun was aiming directly at us and I’d wrapped a towel around myself—I’d noticed Andrew glancing at my wet cover-up clinging to my breasts and thighs. Sophie was sitting near me, her hand in mine. She kept giving me little pats. “I’m okay, Mommy. I’m okay. I’m sorry you got scared.”

Andrew was watching me. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. I wanted to ignore him, but I knew he was trying to get me to look at him. I turned. There was a look in his eye, something mean. Something smug.

“That was embarrassing,” he said.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“You were taking too long.” He shrugged.

“You did it on purpose. You were trying to scare me.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said, rising to his feet. “You did that to yourself.” He held his hand out for Sophie. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll help you build another sand castle.”

I watched them walk away. Sophie looked over her shoulder at me, her little face concerned. I smiled reassuringly. The lifeguard came over. “Is everything okay now, senora?”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine.” I didn’t want him to linger. He turned away and I saw something in his face. Pity? Or did he think I was just a stupid blond woman who overreacted? I remembered how I had thrashed around in the water, how desperate I’d felt. How had I become this way? How had I turned into this woman who couldn’t go to the bathroom without being afraid?

Andrew was filling a pail with sand. Sophie and he had the same determined expression. He felt me watching, gave a small wave and a friendly smile.

You’re imagining things. That’s what I’d told him, and then he made me pay.

But he hadn’t just wanted me to be scared. He wanted me to know he could take her from me. In the blink of an eye. One day I might be in the bathroom, or maybe I’d step outside for a moment, or go to the store, and they’d be gone. I would never see her again.

I had to leave him when we got home. There was no more time to plan. No matter what it took, no matter how risky it was, I had to get Sophie away from him.

I slowly lifted my hand, gave my palm a kiss, and blew it in his direction.





CHAPTER TWO


DECEMBER 2016



The house is quiet when I wake, the floorboards cold under my feet as I push myself out of bed. “Sophie?” She doesn’t answer. Sometimes she gets up early to work on a project, or goes for a walk. She likes to study the patterns in the snow and ice. It worries me when she goes off into the woods by herself, but she wears hiking boots and carries a whistle, and trying to keep her home when she’s feeling inspired is like trying to capture lightning in a bottle.

Shivering, I wrap my flannel robe tight around my body and shuffle into the kitchen. Sophie’s put a pod in the coffeemaker for me, left a note stuck to the machine.

Sorry, Mom. The snow was calling … XO

My baby, the artist. I pin the note onto the bulletin board, on top of the others I’ve saved, then check that she’s locked the door and reset the alarm. She’s always forgetting, says we have nothing worth stealing anyway. I remind her that’s not the point.

I let the shower run hot as I can stand it, steam filling the room, soap swirling around my feet and down the drain. My hair is long again and the wet tendrils lay flat against my breasts. My mind drifts as I think about my plan for the upcoming week, which clients might need more help before Christmas, whether I should place an ad for another cleaner. Maybe I can expand and take on some janitorial work next year when Sophie goes away to school. I enjoy this feeling of accomplishment. In the beginning it was just me, a beat-up car, and a box of cleaning supplies. Now I have four full-time employees and nothing holding me back.

After I’m dressed, I unplug my phone from the charger and notice I’ve gotten a text from Marcus. You still want to skip this week? Let me know. Marcus teaches a self-defense class for my domestic violence support group and sometimes gives me private lessons.

I text him back. Yeah, just busy, but I’ll see you at the meeting. I make a second cup of coffee—the first is for sanity, the second is pure pleasure—and prop my phone up against the bowl of fruit on our kitchen table. I sign in to Skype and wait for Jenny to answer my call.