I nod, unwilling to question her. In any case, he looks much better than he did when I first found him. That awful, rattling groan has quieted to a gentle inhale and exhale.
“I know I’ve put you in a compromising situation,” I tell her. “I’m sorry for that.”
She sighs. “I was hoping what I saw in your tea leaves was wrong.”
I blink back fresh tears. “Apparently, I’m not that lucky.”
“No, but you are strong,” Aracelia tells me. “Strong enough to live through this.”
You are strong.
Cesar had told me the same thing a lifetime ago, before I had believed in my own strength.
“Come now,” Aracelia prods gently. “You need a good soak in the tub and after you’re done, it’s important you eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat, Esme. For you child.”
I nod slowly, reluctantly, and follow her into her bedroom. The floral patterns are overwhelming but they help soothe me somehow.
They’re simple. Pretty. Innocent.
A stark contrast to the world I’ve been incapsulated in for far too long.
“Go on,” she encourages me. “I’ll set some fresh clothes for you on the bed.”
I walk into the bathroom, dazed, to find that the tub is filled with steaming water. After I strip down, I get into the tub and let the water sooth my aching body. I run my hands over my stomach and watch as my baby moves inside me.
It’s just you and me, little bird.
Something about that idle thought catches. It snags on the corner of a harsh realization. A growing realization.
The realization that I made a choice about what happens next. One I couldn’t fully process until right now.
It’s just you and me, little bird.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
The only one who has the power to give me the life I want is me.
If I want a different life, I have to take it.
And I can’t make Artem come with me.
I can’t bring him with me at all.
My muscles cry out for me to stay in the bath forever. But now that I’ve made my choice and acknowledged it to myself, I feel like the clock is already ticking. Ticking down to what, I’m not sure—until I lose heart or lose the opportunity, maybe.
I just know I have to do it now.
I have to leave forever.
I get out, dry off in a hurry as panic flows through me faster and faster, and go into the bedroom.
There’s a pair of faded blue jeans on the bed next to a flowing floral shirt and a dusty pink sweater.
I dress hurriedly with fumbling hands. Then I head back towards the dining table where Artem lies.
I can hear Aracelia in the kitchen, but before I speak to her, I slip outside to the car. I rummage through the trunk and the center console until I find what I’m looking for.
When I walk back into the house, Aracelia is standing by the dining table checking on Artem. She looks up and catches sight of me.
“Don’t you look better?” she says with a smile.
I return the smile shakily and step forward.
“I want you to have this,” I say, holding out the bundle of money in my hand.
She arches an eyebrow. Not quite surprised, but not quite expecting this, either. “Esme…”
“It’s the least I can do,” I insist. “After all you’ve done for me.”
“What about you?”
“I kept some for myself,” I say. “But I want you to have this.”
Aracelia hesitates but then she takes the money with careful fingers and sets it down on the table beside Artem.
Turning my gaze from her to him, I move a little closer and put my hand on Artem’s arm.
“I’m leaving, Aracelia,” I say softly without looking at her.
“Where?” I notice that she doesn’t sound in the least bit surprised.
“I don’t know yet. But I have the car and enough money to hold me over for the next few months. I’ll figure it out.”
In the corner of my vision, Aracelia nods. “What would you like me to tell him when he wakes up?” she asks.
I gnaw at my lower lip. “Tell him…”
I trail off, wondering what message I can possibly leave him with.
I’m sorry?
I couldn’t do it anymore?
I have to protect myself and my child?
I can’t trust you to walk away?
I can’t trust anyone but myself?
Nothing feels right. Nothing seems enough. “Don’t tell him anything,” I say finally. “He’ll know why I left.”
“But will he understand?”
No, he probably won’t.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “Our lives are on different paths now.”
Aracelia nods again. “When do you want to leave?”
“Now,” I reply. “As soon as possible. If I stay any longer, I’m afraid… I’m afraid I won’t be able to go.”
“I’ll pack some food for you.”
She disappears into the kitchen, leaving me with my husband. I raise his hand to my lips and kiss his bruised knuckles. Then I bend my head down and kiss his closed eyes, his forehead, his cheeks.
I save his lips for last.
“I loved you,” I whisper in his ear. “Remember that I loved you.”
I let go of his hand and step back. The final goodbye sticks in my throat, refusing to come out.
So I leave it unsaid. I blink away my tears and turn.
And then, one step at a time, I walk away from Artem. From the man who saved me and ruined me and saved me again.
Doubt threads through my thoughts. But that is just fear trying to confuse me.
I made my decision and now it’s time to see it through.
I loved you.
I used the past tense, but that’s just self-preservation.
I still love him. I always will. I don’t know how to stop.
11
Artem
One Week Later
Old memories tether me to the darkness.
They set their hooks in my soul and pull me in a thousand directions at once.
I’m vaguely aware of the real world somewhere far in the distance. I can hear voices. Feel the light pressure of gentle hands on my body. And the pain, of course.
