Breathless georgia vol 2, p.64
Breathless, Georgia--Vol 2, page 64
She was on her second phone, with an entirely different number, associated with an account for a man Johnny didn’t even know, still, somehow, he'd gotten it. Grace had hated breaking the phone Tyler paid for… again. It had been bad enough the first time when it was Tyler’s decision and Tyler’s boot destroying the expensive little piece of hardware. Now, Grace owed him for two phones.
At each stop the bus made—about every two to three hours—they parked at a large gas station/convenience store/fast food place. The stores were often designed for long haul truckers and had items like audiobooks and gifts… and burner phones. She’d bought two at the first stop. And at the last stop, she’d used one before getting on the bus.
She’d memorized Tyler’s number over the days, so it was relatively technically easy to turn the phone on and send him a quick text. Emotionally, it was one of the most difficult things she’d done. She tapped out message after message, only to erase them and finally settle on the simple but harsh sounding Your bike is at the bus station in Pittsburgh.
In a second message, she included information about how to retrieve his keys.
Once that was done, she’d powered down the phone and thrown it in the trash. It was another painful decision, but she couldn’t have Johnny tracking her.
Grace regretted taking Tyler’s bike, but she hadn’t seen a way around it. She regretted taking the bus to Atlanta, but again, there had been few other options. She wasn't sure she regretted taking the trip though.
Her problem wasn't just Johnny, though. She’d reached a point where there were no decisions she could make without regretting something.
If she stayed with Tyler, Johnny would eventually find them—probably sooner rather than later. What would she do if something happened to Tyler? Johnny was still pursuing her, and given that she’d evaded him for so long, his rage would be incredibly high. If he hurt Tyler—or killed him—Grace wouldn't be able to say she hadn't seen it coming. She’d never be able to live with that.
But leaving meant that she left Tyler behind. That was a regret in and of itself. And if she stayed and found herself falling more and more in love with him, that would break her heart all over again. Worse than she already hurt now. Worse than Johnny had ever hurt her—since with Johnny she'd broken her own heart.
With her boyfriend, Grace had put all her hopes and dreams on a man she didn't really know. It had taken a good two years to understand the kind of man he really was. Though she was pretty confident she’d known inside of two days the kind of man Tyler was, well, the downside was that she knew all the good things she was leaving behind. He was loyal to a fault and clearly still in love with the girl he'd fallen for in high school.
Grace could stay with Tyler. He would let her ride around the country with him. He would let her fall harder for him until she was so far under she was drowning. But how long before she regretted it?
She warned herself, when she had her toes in the Pacific Ocean, to never belong to anyone again. She’d spoken the promise out loud… Even Tyler had heard her.
Maybe being on her own was the best bet. If Johnny caught up with her, she'd have to be ready to defend herself. She knew how to use a gun and had already more than considered getting one, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in jail for killing a man who deserved it. She would have to think of other options.
The ride went by in a blur of cities and freeways. She would have stared out the window for hours, her chin resting in her hand, but the vibration of the bus made that impossible. She lost focus, listened to the few quiet conversations around her, and slept a little bit, waking when the vehicle stopped again.
One by one, bus riders filed inside the large convenience store and waited for their food. The driver again issued strict orders about their stop time, but it never worked, and the trip was already more than an hour behind schedule.
Grace didn't have a book or an iPad. She hadn't even opened the new phone yet, so she tackled the last leg of the trip the same as the first, by watching out the window. Her brain churned, trying to figure out exactly how it was that Johnny had gotten her new number.
It had been bothering her that he asked how she liked New York.
She hadn't ever been to New York, but it was next on their list. When she first figured it out, her blood turned cold. Hopping up, she grabbed her bag from the empty seat beside her. She scrambled toward the front of the bus and the driver looked at her sharply as she crossed the yellow line.
“I'm sorry.” She wheezed the words out around the fear that was choking her and stepped back behind the painted bar. “I need to get off.”
“We don't stop the bus,” the driver said.
“It's an emergency!”
“We don't stop the bus,” the driver repeated with the same inflection and lack of concern. Grace got the feeling she was running into a brick wall.
“Please, ma'am.” Though she begged, the driver didn't change her mind.
“We're almost to Atlanta. We'll be there in forty-five minutes. We don't stop the bus.”
Grace slowly headed back to her seat, her heart beating a rapid staccato as her stomach sank into a deep pit inside her. She had to figure out what to do when she got off the bus, because Johnny would be waiting.
38
Grace stepped carefully off the bus, purposefully staying behind a taller rider and working hard to mingle with the crowd emerging. The number of riders had dwindled during the day, so the group getting off at the dark parking lot in Atlanta wasn't quite big enough to disappear into.
Family and friends waited in the parking lot. Some of the cars idled and people stood against them, keys in hand, watching for a particular rider. Her fellow travelers crowded around the side of the bus while the driver opened the storage units and fetched bags. But Grace carried everything she owned.
She looked across the small crowd of cars and, though the woman was older, her hair a paler shade of gray, Aunt Claire was easily recognizable.
Her aunt waved, having spotted Grace easily, too, but Grace wasn't quite ready to wave back. Her heart was in her throat as she scanned the crowd looking for that dirty blond hair, the sneer, the thin build.
Luckily, she didn't see Johnny here waiting. Taking her chance, she headed over and hugged her aunt. “It's so good to see you, Aunt Claire.”
On the one hand, the words were true. On the other, Grace was petrified of what might wait in the shadows at the edge of the lot.
Aunt Claire didn’t notice. “It's good to have you here. Let's get in the car, I'll take you home. I'll call your grandma and let her know you're safe.”
Grace stiffened. Her great-aunt had just confirmed what she'd figured out a hundred miles back.
Claire stepped back, noticing the change. “What is it, honey?”
“You called my grandma and told her I was coming, right?”
“Of course.” Claire looked at Grace as though how could she not? “She and I may not get along, but you're her child. You're practically her daughter, and she was worried about you. I was so glad I called.” She reached out to hug Grace again, as though the explanation made everything okay.
But Grace stood firm, her bags still clutched her hand. The words were hard to get out, but she had to do it. “I can't stay with you, Aunt Claire.”
“I don't understand.”
“I told you.” Grace emphasize the words. “I told you that you couldn't call my grandmother. And the first thing you did was call my grandmother.”
“She's your grandmother—”
Grace cut her off. “She's been talking to my ex boyfriend—my abusive ex boyfriend.” It was the first time Grace had used the words that way and something settled inside her, finally. That was exactly what the situation was and the doubt she had always harbored vaporized. “Would you like to see the pictures of what he did to me, Aunt Claire?”
“No.”
Though her aunt seemed upset and turned her head away, Grace had had enough of everyone treating her as though she didn’t understand her own life. No wonder she’d fallen for Johnny’s bullshit! Everyone in her family treated her as if she were five and that whatever decisions she made needed to be overridden because she simply didn’t know what she was talking about.
Fuming mad now, she whipped out the phone. She’d turned it on and had it ready to call 9-1-1. If she spotted Johnny she wouldn't be able to wait for it to power up. She checked her email, knowing it might ping her, and hoping that Johnny hadn’t gained any new tech skills while she’d been gone.
Pulling up the pictures from her account, she shoved the phone into her aunt’s face. “Look, Aunt Claire.”
Claire closed her eyes and turned her head.
“Look at it!” Grace held the phone out, angry at everyone who hadn't believed her. “I told you not to call my grandmother. She’s been talking to him because she doesn’t believe me either!” Grace had drawn attention, but she no longer cared. If Johnny was here, he’d already seen her. She was probably safest ranting about her abusive ex-boyfriend. “Now he knows where I am. He knows where you are, too. You brought this to my doorstep and maybe to yours. You shouldn't stay at home, either.”
“I didn't know,” Claire said, suddenly remorseful, but Grace was so tired of everyone deciding that they knew better than her. And she said so.
“You did know. You didn't have all the details, but I told you exactly what not to do. And you didn't trust me!”
“Baby—”
“No. That’s the problem, I'm not a baby anymore. I am an adult, and I am making decisions about my own life, and you have to trust that. If you can’t do that, then you don't get to be a part of it. My grandma doesn't get to be a part of it, no matter how much I want her to be, because she keeps giving information to the man who is trying to kill me.” She held the phone firmly outward into Claire's face again, her anger rolling off of her in waves.
“I'm staying somewhere on my own tonight. And I'm leaving town. I recommend that you don't stay at home until I figure out where he is.” She pulled up another picture. “This is him. His name is Johnny Rubio.”
“Oh, but I'm not in danger,” Claire replied, as though everything could be brushed off with a phrase or a wish.
“Oh, yes you are. He thinks he owns me, and he'll do anything in his power to make you tell him where I am, which is why you no longer get to know where I'm going.” Grace took a deep breath and conceded a little ground. “I love you, Aunt Claire, but I can't stay with you if I can't trust you.”
She stepped forward, hugged the older woman briefly, and turned and walked away.
The question now was that it was almost eleven p.m. and she was in a strange city. Where the hell was she going to go? And how was she even going to get there?
39
Tyler looked up at the strip of sky he could see between the tall buildings in New York. The city bustled around him, cyclists weaving agilely in and out of traffic. Unfortunately, his kind of bike wasn't the majority here. While the noise it made was a safety feature while he was on the freeway, here it obscured the sound of delivery drivers and pedestrians coming up behind or beside him. If he could find a place to park, he would get out and walk around Times Square on foot.
It took far too long to find a place to legally park the bike and the spot he eventually found was a good seven blocks from the crush of people and lights. He walked the distance playing solo tourist, passing by theaters, sushi places, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants offering every kind of food imaginable.
Tyler didn't stop at any of them. He wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t really interested in any of it. As he approached the last block, he passed no fewer than five people trying to hand him flyers. They suggested he attend shows from opera to comedy to one-man memoirs and more. He turned them all down, several times finding the flyer shoved into his hand anyway or fluttering to the ground at his feet.
What a waste.
He maneuvered through the throngs that lined the sidewalks, stepping around huge trash bags left sitting in front of the hotels and restaurants. It must be trash day, he thought.
But here, there were no bins wheeled to the curb waiting for the truck to come by. It was all just left there on the sidewalk. Tyler found himself developing a deep-seated fear that he would trip and go face first into one of the piles. He must be more of a country kid than he’d thought.
He arrived at Times Square and was immediately assaulted by the glare and flash of lights. Each one beckoning him to buy something or enter some store or try a new show. He peeked in the storefronts as he passed by, seeing stuffed animals or candy, clothes or souvenirs.
None of it appealed.
He didn't know anything about New York other than the names of the boroughs and that he ought to see Times Square. Well, he was here. He was seeing it.
He wasn't hungry, but it was going on four in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. So he ducked into a little sandwich shop with a maroon and white sign and wound up reading all the labels. Everything was organic this, cranberry and melon that, or something with chia seeds. He eventually found a chicken salad sandwich with some exotic cheese on whole wheat—the simplest thing in the whole shop. He grabbed a soda he didn't recognize for far more money than he was used to spending and headed out to eat it as he walked down the street.
This was not the New York he had intended to visit. He had no field guide anymore and he realized, had Grace been here with him, he would have loved the place because she did. He would have happily wandered through the stuffed animal shop and probably wound up with something to mail back to Wills’ daughters.
They would have bought a small bag of candy because that was all that would fit in the bags on the back of the bike—next to the jar of pepper jelly he was still saving for her. They would have carefully chosen their sandwiches and Grace would have explained what the cheese was—probably just cheddar with a fancy name—and even the strange soda would have tasted better.
Tyler looked for an open trash bin for the empty wrapper and bottle. The irony, of course, was that he passed fifteen full, stinky bags of trash on the way to finding an open bin where he could throw his own.
That was it.
He was done.
The city held no meaning without Grace. Something had happened between them in True Springs, and he didn't think it was just because he'd splurged on the room or told her again that she didn't owe him anything.
He and Grace had found each other there, despite the fact that they'd been traveling pressed together for days. Despite the fact that it wasn't the first time they'd slept together or made love. Maybe it was the water in that silly fountain that said it helped lovers find their true love. Grace had splashed them both with her bad penny toss. And that older woman said she’d put something in their sodas.
Maybe it was just that he’d finally found the right person and she hadn’t stayed around. Grace had sworn she would never belong to anyone again, but he'd felt like she belonged to him that night.
Maybe it had scared her off.
Maybe Johnny had threatened her.
But Tyler didn't know because she hadn't told him. Maybe she'd fallen for him and that scared the shit out of her. Then again, maybe she'd seen that he'd fallen for her and that had scared the shit out of her more.
It didn't matter, because he wouldn’t know what it was. She was up and gone before he'd even opened his eyes. She'd stolen his bike and run.
And he—dipshit that he was—hadn't even figured out she'd head back to Pittsburgh. No, he'd come all the way to New York and Grand Central Station, then spent another two days driving back and forth across Pennsylvania to pick up the bike and sell the crappy car at a huge loss.
Aside from messaging him to tell him where his bike was and how to retrieve it, Grace hadn't contacted him at all. He’d immediately replied to her messages, and messaged and tried calling repeatedly since then, but the strange number didn’t even have a voicemail and Grace didn’t reply.
The trip had sucked from the moment that he'd woken up and realized she disappeared. First, he'd been frantic thinking something had happened. Then, when she didn’t respond, he’d called the Pittsburgh bus station and tried desperately to get them to tell him which route she was on. They'd stood firm, not giving out the names of their passengers. As frustrating as that was, ultimately, he was grateful. If he couldn't get her information, maybe Johnny couldn't either.
But while he was glad that she was safe, the rest of his trip now held little appeal. So he climbed on the bike and headed south. He was going to go toward Florida, just like they had planned. Nothing else that they had planned would be happening because he wasn't capable of organizing the trip the way Grace was. And also because he just didn't care anymore. What he did know was that he needed to find somewhere to stop.
He had his route. He had the money. And it was well past time that he picked a place to start his new life. Tyler still had no clue where that would be.
40
Grace arrived at her front door after her shift at work.
Her feet were tired. She needed new sneakers, as she was still wearing the same ones she'd worn at the Pancake House. There wasn't time or money for that, not yet.
Sliding the key into the lock, she hoped that her late entry didn't wake her neighbors. The unit next door to hers held a cute couple that were early risers, their schedule the opposite of hers. The two men were very much in love. She knew this because their bedroom wall abutted her studio wall. There was nowhere in her apartment she could go to avoid hearing the noise.
On the other side was another studio like hers, and the young woman talked her way through her thesis—sometimes aggressively. Marla was a student at Emory, getting a Masters of Fine Arts in writing and holed up in the cheapest apartment she could find. Marla told her it was cheaper to live here in Breathless, work online, and drive into Atlanta only once in a while for a meeting, then to try to live in the city.
