I gritted my teeth against the words I wanted to hurl at her. Selfish? She was nuts if she truly thought that. The statement hadn’t been the worst part of her little speech, though. It had been theweshe’d thrown in there. Hilary had saidwe, meaning she would be accompanying us to this secure facility. As if the situation couldn’t have been worse.
“Miss Murphy,” she snapped when I said nothing. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I replied because I had no other choice.
“Good,” Hilary said. “Please make sure your name is on your suitcase before arriving and that you are on time. Goodbye.”
Like when I’d first seen the call, I was frozen in place when it cut out, only instead of staring at the phone, I found myselflooking my room over. I imagined returning to my apartment in a year or possibly even three, a layer of dust covering everything. I didn’t have a lot, but what I did have, I treasured, and I couldn’t imagine being away from it. This was my home; these were my things. I’d picked them out, bought them. Secondhand, but still. They weremine. And the government was taking it all away from me.
Tears sprang to my eyes, which I blinked back. I didn’t want to give in to the emotions, not when I had so much to do and so little time. I had to call Teresa and tell her what was going on, had to pack my things. I’d want to stop at my favorite hangout and say goodbye to Stormy, then I’d need to go to Trevor’s office. I could stop there on the way to the Health Department building, that way I could get legal advice and say goodbye at the same time. And I could see Sophia. She was old, in her seventies, and there was another pandemic. She’d already beaten four, so the odds weren’t good that she’d make it through another one. I hoped she did, though. Hoped she would be at the reception desk when I got back, smiling and ready with the same sassy anecdotes as always.
I made a mental checklist as I took care of the few household items that needed to be done before leaving. Cleaning out the fridge and emptying the trash so I didn’t come home to the stink of rotting food and loading and starting the dishwasher. I had no pets, but I did have a peace lily Trevor had given me for Valentine’s Day a couple years ago. Its leaves were brown at the edges, but it was still hanging on. I could take it with me, but decided instead to take it to Trevor’s office so he could look after the thing. He was, after all, the one who’d bought it.
Once all that was done – and the plant was sitting on the kitchen counter so I could grab it on my way out – I got busy packing. Hilary had said only one suitcase, which was fine since that was all I had. The only problem was, I had no clue what to pack. Clothes, yes, but how much? There would have to be laundry facilities, and if I needed replacements – or maternity clothes when I got pregnant – I was sure the government would provide them, but that didn’t prepare me for what I should packsince I had literally no idea what the climate would be.
Deciding to keep it simple, I grabbed two pairs of jeans – both worn and comfortable – a few pairs of yoga pants, pajama pants, and various casual shirts and sweatshirts. I doubted I would need anything nicer. Then I stuffed in all the underwear and bras I owned, as well as an assortment of socks. Other than that, I didn’t pack much. Charging cords and my ereader, a couple of my favorite books in hardback –Pride and PrejudiceandThe Stand– as well as an old photo album from my childhood. Printing pictures was rare these days, but I had a handful from before Dad died, then some more after he was gone. In a lot of those, Mom and I wore haunted expressions, her because she missed him and me because for years following my time at the farm, I was terrified someone would find out and lock both of us up. There were pictures of Trevor and me throughout the years as well, and they made me smile as I skimmed them. I had more recent ones on my phone, but treasured the images from our childhood and teen years and would never consider leaving them behind. Plus, I had no idea if I would be allowed to keep my phone when I arrived at my destination. It seemed unlikely.
Once the album was in my bag, I zipped it closed and checked that a luggage tag was still attached to the handle from the last time I used it. It was, so I hefted the suitcase off the bed.
Before leaving my room, I glanced around, looking from my bed with its slightly tattered but bright comforter to the bedside table that held the lamp made from a wine bottle. Moscato, which I didn’t like, but still, I loved that lamp. Just like I loved every generic picture, motivational saying hanging on my walls, and every framed photograph, as well as piece of furniture. From my worn sofa – which I was positive had the perfect indentation of my ass – to the small dining room table and four mismatched chairs. This was me. My place. And I was leaving it.
I was sniffling when I shut my front door, but I fought against the tears as I maneuvered my way down the stairs, the plant in one arm as the wheels of my suitcase banged against the steps. I reached the bottom and went outside. Once there, I paused to pull on a mask before opening the door immediately next tomine. I had to shove it hard so I could pull my suitcase through, but somehow, I managed.
Thanks to the order barring all indoor eating, the place wasn’t as busy as usual. There were, however, a few masked people standing around, six feet of space between them as they waited for to-go orders. They stared at me curiously as I dragged my suitcase through the restaurant.
“Going on a trip, Ara?” a man I didn’t recognize thanks to the mask asked in a light tone.
“Something like that,” I muttered and kept walking.
I was focused on Stormy, who was one of the few people who knew I was in the program. She was filling a DORA cup from the tap, a mask over her nose and mouth, and her eyes on me as the foam got dangerously close to the rim.
“A salad?” she asked when I stopped in front of her. Somehow, she managed to turn off the tap a split second before the beer spilled over, but I had no idea how since she was staring at my suitcase. “To go?”
“Yeah,” I said in a husky voice that sounded nothing like me.
Her head bobbed as she served the beer to a man I didn’t know, and even though her mouth was covered, I could tell she was frowning. “I’ll put it in.”
“Thanks.”
Not wanting to stand in the middle of the room like a moron, I dragged my suitcase to the side – as far away from the other patrons as I could – and set the peace lily on a nearby table. I stared at it, not wanting to look around and see the curious glances of the other patrons because I was sure if I met any of their gazes, I would burst into tears.
I’d wanted to say goodbye to Stormy, but it wasn’t until I’d stepped into the building that I realized I shouldn’t even be here, which was the only reason I’d said yes to the salad since I had no appetite. All of this was confidential. I’d signed an NDA. Which meant that even hinting that I was going away for an indeterminate amount of time might put me in breach of contract. As bad as things were, I wasn’t stupid. They could get a lot worse.
Thinking about it, I began to sweat. Hilary had said I wouldface consequences if I didn’t cooperate, which had me wondering if where we were going wasn’t one of the government hospitals. Possibly, they’d found somewhere else to send us. Somewhere nicer. Maybe if I didn’t do what I was told, I would be sent to one of those other facilities and locked away for good.
I couldn’t let that happen. I shouldn’t be here. I had to go.
I’d just made up my mind to leave when Stormy stopped at my side.
“I’m not going to ask any questions,” she began, her voice low and her eyes darting around as if to make sure no one was listening, “I know you can’t tell me anything, and even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you. The stakes are too high.”
She acted like she knew what I was going through, but I couldn’t ask how. Maybe she’d known someone else who’d been in the program who’d spilled the beans? It was rare, but possible. And dangerous, which would explain why she wouldn’t ask questions or expect me to give her any information. Like she’d said, the stakes were too high.
“I do want to say, though,” she went on, “that you’ll be missed.”
She took my hand, giving it a squeeze. No one was paying attention to us, but the connection still had my heart beating so hard I felt certain everyone in the building would be able to hear the steadythump, thump, thump.
“Be safe,” Stormy whispered, “and make it back.”
