I realize what I need to do. The only way I can keep both of us safe.
My hands are shaking as I dial the familiar number.
He picks up on the first ring.
fifty-two
Run Away
June 2006
“Are you sure about this?” Michael asks again. He was ecstatic the first time I called. Now that we’re talking details, he’s more cautious.
I try to force a smile into my voice. “I already emailed the department chair at the university and my supervisor at the hospital telling them I quit.”
He's quiet for what feels like a long time. “You quit? Everything? Work and school? For good?”
“Yeah. You’re right. I need a clean break from all of it. If I’m five thousand miles away...” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. The phrases that comes to mindI can get away from my past, and he can’t find me.”But I know that’s not what Michael wants to hear. He wants to hear that I’m coming with him because I love him, because I can’t stand to be away from him that long, because this is what I really want.
I can’t bring myself to lie to him, even though I know it would make him happy.
Running away was never your style.
The voice on repeat in my head sounds a lot like Gage’s. My heart aches to talk to him. He was crazy and spontaneous and irresponsible, but he could always make me feel more like me. Not like the person he wouldn't recognize anymore, or the person I barely recognize when I look in the mirror. When Gage got it right, he got it right. He knew who I really was. He knew me and Jacob were supposed to be together. Maybe we could have stayed together if I hadn’t self-destructed and destroyed everything we had.
“... does that give you enough time?” There’s a long pause. Michael is waiting for me to answer.
“Sorry. The phone cut out for a second,” I lie. “What did you say?”
“I said, I can get you on a flight here on Friday. Does that give you enough time? Or do you need to go see your family and tell them goodbye? I'm heading out Sunday evening, but you can come later.”
“Friday is fine. The sooner, the better.” Better to rip off the band-aid now. Better to go before I change my mind.
“Great. I’ll buy the ticket now. Don’t worry about packing anything besides clothes. The apartment comes furnished, and you can buy pretty much anything you need in Korea.”
“Sounds great,” I force myself to sound enthusiastic, excited even. I try to convince myself that I am excited. I’ve always wanted to travel. Korea is a good place to start.
“I’ll send you the itinerary as soon as I have it. I’m so glad you're coming with me, Jess. I love you!”
“Love you.” It sounds forced, even though I know there’s a part of me that loves Michael. He’s been good to me. No one has ever tried harder to make me happy, but no one has failed so badly at recognizingI’m miserable. Maybe the best thing I can do with the rest of my life is live to make him happy.
I hang up the phone and go to my room. Today is Wednesday; a flight on Friday doesn’t give me much time. I need to pack. I need to do something with my car. Sell it? Give it to Tyler? His license is suspended for another six months. If I’m gone for a year, I’ll miss his high school graduation. Christmas. My parent's 25th anniversary. All of it. I can’t think about that. I empty my drawers, sorting everything into three piles–clothes to throw away, clothes to give away, clothes to take. That’s the smallest pile. Clothes absorb memories from where and when you wore them, who you were with and what happened—memories I’m ready to let go of.
Angelica comes in as I’m working through my third drawer. She watches for a long moment.
“You’re really going through with this?” She finally says. “Aren’t you a little old to be running away?”
I don’t take the bait.
“Dr. Diego from the hospital called. He got your email, and he asked me to talk to you about your decision. You can still take it all back. He thinks you’re throwing your life away because of a guy. I told him he was right. I didn’t tell him it wasn’t because of the guy you were running to, but the one you’re running from.”
She doesn't know what I'm running from.
I keep packing, alternating between folding my clothes meticulously and randomly throwing them in my suitcase. I realize I don’t have my passport. I left it at my parent’s house. The only way to get it would be to go home. If I do that, I’ll have to face the worry and the hurt I see on my mom’s face every time I go there. I’ll have to explain to them why I’m leaving. I’d planned to call them after I got to Korea,when it was too late for them to say anything about it. When I didn’t have to see them or say goodbye.
“I don’t have time for a lecture. I have to drive home tonight.” I gather an armful of my throwaway clothes and head to the dumpster.
She follows me. “Like this? This late?”
