She made her way back downstairs to find the front door slightly ajar. She froze on the bottom step and stared at it, hard. Surely she wouldn’t have left the door open when she came in earlier with the groceries? And wouldn’t she have noticed it if she had? She’d been downstairs making tea, but she’d been distracted.
Afraid that somehow the door had opened by someone else’s hand, she sneaked back upstairs again and stood on the top step, worried sick. Since she had already gone out to the backyard, whoever had opened the door could have sneaked inside and come upstairs too. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she raced across the hallway to her son’s room. He was still in bed, sleeping. She put her hand to her mouth, wondering what she was supposed to do.
She bent down and checked under his bed to find nothing there, then checked his closet. She went to the bathroom and found the same thing, nothing changed from the normal. With shaky hands, she pushed the door to her master bedroom wide open to make sure nobody was behind the door. She stood here listening, hoping nobody was in her house, still terrified.
When her sister called a few minutes later, Jessica hurriedly shut off the ringer, but it was too late. If somebody was in the house, they would also know she was inside. She wanted to laugh because, of course, she was inside; they would have seen and heard her already.
She forced herself to check her bedroom, the closets, and the en suite bathroom. Nothing was there. With relief washing over her enough to put tears in her eyes, she impatiently brushed them away. Sure that the upstairs was clear and free, she headed downstairs again. Quickly checking those rooms, she shut and locked her front door and phoned her sister back.
“Hey,” her sister said. “What were you doing?”
“I found the front door open,” she said, “so I was checking to make sure nobody was upstairs.”
“What?” her sister cried out. “Jesus Christ, Jessica! Call the damn police!”
“Why? Because I’m an idiot and left the door open?” She wandered around the lower floor, still making sure nobody was here.
“You already know that your ex-husband is psychotic and that he could be after you.”
“No, I don’t know that,” she said. “I don’t fully understand anything at the moment. Did you have a reason for calling, besides all my drama?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “Though it kind of qualifies as your drama,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s Mom. She’s really upset.”
“That’s nice,” she said. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“She wants you to apologize.”
Jessica gasped in disbelief. “Me apologize to her? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“She’s worried that you’ll do something stupid, like accuse your ex-husband of all this,” her sister said tiredly.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “I’m sure as hell not calling her and apologizing for something like that.”
“I know,” she said, “and I don’t want you to. But you need to know that she’s on the rampage.”
“She’s always on the rampage,” she said. “How is it that she is still so heavily involved in my damn business?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “If you had stayed with him, maybe she’d be off your case.”
“So are you telling me that I should have stayed?”
“No, but she’s wearing me down,” her sister snapped. “It’s terrible, and I’m so tired of all of it.”
“I hear you,” Jessica said, “but that’s hardly an answer for me.”
“I know,” she said, “and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.”
“Well, yesterday you were all about telling Mom to pound sand. Now you’re telling me that I need to make up to her.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I can’t talk to her right now,” she said. “I’ve got enough problems on my plate right now.”
“Anything new?”
“No,” she said, not wanting to share her fears with her sister and have her carry tales back to her mother. That would just compound the issue.
“You take care,” her sister said. “I’ll try to hold Mom off.”
“Tell her that I don’t want to talk to her,” Jessica said. “That’ll piss her off even more.”
“You want her pissed off?”
“Sure, that way she’ll leave me alone,” she said. Hanging up with her sister, she walked back into the kitchen, realizing she’d let her tea get cold. Rather than warming it up in the microwave, which would make it taste disgusting, she put the kettle back on.
She sat at the kitchen table, waiting for her son to wake up, listening to the sounds of the house creak around her as she tried to figure out what the hell she would do. She currently had another two weeks of vacation days left, and then she was supposed to go back to her job. She managed a small business in town, and it was just barely enough to make ends meet, particularly when day care was so high.
She’d hoped for a job she could do from home, while she was here with her son, but hadn’t had any luck in finding one. It seemed wrong to be taking vacation days to look for work, yet she didn’t know what else to do. Everything hinged on her finding a better solution, so she could raise her son with a little more money and more time with him. She picked up the newspaper again and circled jobs to apply for. She always did the online searches first, but this was a small town, and, if she could find something closer or part-time or could work from home, that would be more ideal.
One ad was looking for
