Lilly gave silent thanks he was leaving.
He was still standing over her shaking her shoulder, “Do you hear me, Lilly? Answer me!”
Lilly opened her eyes and nodded her head. He was about to say something else, when he glanced at the clock and exclaimed, “Damn, I’ve got to go.”
She lay perfectly still until she heard the car pull out of the driveway. When she lifted her head to read the glowing digits of the clock, it read 5:12 AM. Her head slumped to the pillow, and she curled onto her side and slid into oblivion.
A crashing noise woke her. She jumped out of bed, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through her body. It took her a moment to remember Alex was gone. She peeked out the window and watched the sanitation crew toss empty metal garbage cans onto the cement driveway.
Her eyes flew to the clock. It was 6:45. She went into the door less bathroom and tried to run her hands through the matted mass of her hair. She dropped her hands and grasped the sides of the porcelain sink. The familiar tingle in her fingers began moving into her hands. Bitterly, she mumbled to herself in the mirror, “The tingling is getting worse. It may be nerve damage from Alex jerking me around. I’ve got to get away from him!”
Resolve and regret battled in her heart and mind, as it did every time Alex left town. She needed and wanted the resolve to leave, yet feared she would regret ending her marriage. A tiny flame of hope had burned in her heart, hope that the loving Alex she had married would reappear.
Turning the water on, she brushed her teeth, splashed water on her gaunt face and stared at herself in the mirror. A fit of shivering began and a moan escaped her lips. The purple bruise on her ear deepened to a darker shade beneath one eye. Gasping, she watched the red, raw finger marks on her neck, crawl to her cheek. With bulging eyes, she saw her small nose grow to twice its size. Blood poured from her nose mingling with blood oozing from a busted lip.
The tingling in her fingers grew in intensity, becoming painful buzzing electrical shocks. The strong sensation moved from her fingers into her hands and wrists. A rumbling deep in her throat, rolled into the back of her mouth and escaped as a roar of pain and anger. “This is not my future!” she screamed. A wave of energy propelled her out of the bathroom. Teetering between elation and insanity, she ran to the laundry room and grabbed a large wrench from the tool box. Returning to the bedroom, she went to work on the locked door of Alex’s forbidden closet. She held the wrench with both hands, lifted it over her head and slammed it down. The brass doorknob clattered to the floor as the door swung slightly open. She opened the door and crept into the dark closet; the miasma of Old English after shave, tobacco and a hint of jet fuel assaulted her senses. The combined odors, the ever-present companion to her pain and humiliation, paralyzed her. Tears sprang to her eyes, her throat closed and a thudding pain filled her chest.
Backing away from the closet door, she stood in the bedroom, took a deep breath, rubbed her tingling hands together, and momentarily freed herself from fear. Prepared for the olfactory assault, she stuck her arm in the closet and switched on the light before she entered. Breathing through her mouth, she searched the pockets of his clothes.
There was nothing, no money, no change. She collapsed onto the floor, defeated and spied the pair of red high top tennis shoes in the back corner of the closet. How unlike Alex to have old tennis shoes in his closet, she thought. I’ve never seen him wear high tops. She inched her hand slowly toward the red shoes and drew them to her.
She sat with the shoes in her lap, a frown furrowing her brow. The initials, A.D.C., Alex David Castiglio were written in black marker on the rubberized toes of the sneakers. Slowly, she loosened the shoestrings, pulled aside the tongues and found a thick white sock in each shoe.
With shaking hands, she pulled the socks out. The sock from the right shoe was filled with rolls of fifty dollar bills. The sock in the left shoe held thick rolls of hundred dollar bills. “Yes, Yes, Yes!” Holding the money filled socks in one hand, Lilly threw the empty red shoes into the back of the closet.
With the wrench in her hand, she ran to the front door and went to work on the lock. Splintered wood flew as she beat violently at the last barricade to her freedom. She heard the outside knob hit the cement of the front porch. The inside knob fell into her hand. She held it for a moment, turned and threw it across the living room. A satisfied cackle escaped her lips as the door knob smashed a hideous lamp, a wedding gift from Angelina.
Sweat ran into her eyes. She stared at the lock mechanism, screws askew, but still in place. She stuck the end of the wrench into the lock and jiggled it forcefully. The door opened. Lilly’s hand covered her mouth, “Oh my, God, Alex is going to be so angry. He will kill me for this. There is no turning back; I have to get out of here.”
Her body trembled and her mind raced as she made one phone call, slipped her feet into a pair of loafers, and buttoned her coat over her pajamas. Focused only on escaping, she grabbed a big black garbage bag from the kitchen and ran through the house. The two money filled socks went into the bag first, underwear, makeup, deodorant, her toothbrush, a pair of shoes, a dress, and random bits of clothing followed.
