“Umm, D.C.”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Sweets, you are running scared. You don’t have to tell me the truth, but let me try to help you. Are you traveling to visit family?”
I squash the damp tissue in my hand and shake my head. A flare of rage burns in my chest at my mother’s attitude toward my plea for help. “No, no family.”
“A friend?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Wrong, you have me.”
A wobbly smile pulls at my lips. My hand unclenches; the M&M’s have stained my palm. My core clenches in pain as I pop another of the small chocolates in my mouth. Must be time for a painkiller. I pull out the two bottles from my pocket and stare at them. Can I dry swallow these pills? I almost laugh. I’ve swallowed worse. But I’ve been so consumed with escape I forgot the basics like food and drink. I’m an idiot.
Mel sighs and rummages around in her bag before handing me a fresh bottle of water. I take a deep breath and stuff the rising panic back at another offering of kindness. My head is screwed up. I know her actions aren’t a sign of something horrific about to happen to me, but pain always followed kindness from Gideon. Like he was trying to balance it.
My hand wraps around the bottle, and I swallow the two pills.
“I’m on my way to see my daughter. She’s about your age, just gifted me with my first grandson.”
“That’s amazing. Is this your first time visiting them?”
She grins. “Yes, I’m so proud of her.”
My heart squeezes. I have never heard my mother say she was proud of anything I did, except marrying Gideon. “What did she name him?”
“William. He’s going to be a heartbreaker, but she will teach him how to treat someone with respect. My girl didn’t grow up in the easiest household.”
I blink at her. This seems like a super personal conversation between two strangers. “Oh?”
She narrows her gaze at me. “My husband wasn’t a forgiving or easy man to live with. I am proud of her because she found her way to a happy, healthy relationship. She was stronger than I.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, afraid to ask the next question, but unable to stop myself. “Are you still together?”
Her lips twitch. “No. He liked a little too much salt with his food and died of a heart attack five years ago.” The way she says this suggests she helped him with that salt. Pity for me, Gideon is a health freak who has a tightly controlled diet prepared by chefs, not his wife.
A rectangular package wrapped in wax paper lands on my lap. “You’ll need to eat more than a few bits of chocolate with those. They will make you sick otherwise,” Mel advises.
I unwrap the wax, finding a homemade cheese and ham sandwich. I can’t cry anymore. Mel will think I’ve totally lost it.
Was it only yesterday that I lamented how much I missed bread? This simple food made with loving care is the most precious gift for reasons she’ll never comprehend.
She is what a mother should look like. Observing that someone’s in distress and not prying, not controlling, but being present in the moment.
Perhaps if I’d had a mother like Mel, I would have recognised the dark lurking beneath Gideon’s charm. Maybe, I would have never fallen for it. But you can’t change the past, nor linger in it. If you do, you never escaped and this will have all been for nothing.
The first bite of the bread elicits a groan from my throat. Mel chuckles as she tucks into her own identical sandwich. I manage one half before my stomach twists.
This damn waist trainer needs to come off as soon as possible.
But I can hardly strip in the middle of the bus and beg her to undo the laces. She’d have the authorities waiting for me at the next stop. I’d try to explain, and if I was lucky, I might get a kind officer who believes me. But I’d be taken to the station, deeper into the legal system, where all roads inevitably lead back to Gideon. And this time, he wouldn’t give me the room to run.
I wrap the other half of the sandwich and try returning it to her.
She pushes it back and shakes her head. “Save it for later. This isn’t a short journey.”
I don’t argue. Kindness like this shouldn’t be rejected. It diminishes the precious gift.
I sip some water before capping it and placing it on the seat next to me. My eyes flutter closed, the painkiller beginning to take effect. I pry them open. I can’t sleep. It’s not safe yet.
