er suffering? What if Mother had always been right about us?
Naw, I told myself.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little afraid.
8
Kaylee
I ate the oatmeal Anthony had made and drank some more water and a little coffee. Starving and dehydrating myself seemed pointless. Despite all my resistance, he continued to be exuberant about our life together, rattling off different things he was going to do to make our apartment cozier and more beautiful, like repaint, lay new carpet, bring in new furniture, and build some himself, especially a closet for my new clothes and shoes. He said he had seen a dresser that would match our bed and fit perfectly in the corner. He claimed that everything he mentioned had been agreed on between us on the Internet and that actually I was the one who had given him the ideas. I had no doubt that he was telling the truth about that, about what Haylee had said to encourage him.
Even though I was unchained from the wall, I was still trapped in his fantasy. If I charged at the door, could I get up the stairs and out of his house before he grabbed me? Probably not, and then what would he do to me? Surely he would chain me up again. If I was going to escape, I had to be far cleverer about it than simply trying to run away from him when he left the door unlocked while he was down here or when he turned his back on me. He didn’t leave the key in the lock, either, so I couldn’t rush out, close the door, and lock it behind me. He wore the key on a ring on his belt, along with the keys he used at work. No, my only hope was to go back to the idea of swimming along with the current, only swimming faster.
“Wait a minute,” I said, and then sat back as if I was giving everything he had rattled off serious thought. “Why are you doing so much for this place? Why don’t we just live upstairs in your house? I know, from how my mother did it, how to fix up rooms, change curtains, rugs, decorate. I could change it all to fit our taste and needs.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to agree. It looked like the idea had never occurred to him, but then his eyes widened and he clenched his teeth. He brought his fist down so hard on the table that all the dishes, cups, silverware, and glasses jumped.
I flinched and quickly wrapped my arms around myself.
“What are you talking about? Upstairs isn’t our house. This is our house. We talked about it all the time, how we were going to make it our home. This is where I lived. Upstairs still smells like my parents’ house. I have barely touched anything of theirs, just the things I brought to you and things we need down here. I haven’t thrown any of my parents’ clothing out or given any away. My father’s shaving stuff is still in his bathroom. What are you talking about? You’re going back on everything we planned.”
“I just thought . . . we’d have more room, that’s all.” I looked around. “I didn’t realize how small this place was until you brought me here.”
“You saw it. I showed you every part of it.”
“I know. But things are always different when you’re actually there, right?”
He continued to stare angrily at me. He was opening and closing his hands, and his eyes were twitching. Any moment, he could leap over the table and choke me to death, I thought. I fought back my fear, shoving it down and under the surface of the pool of terror I was in. Keep talking, I thought. Keep talking.
“It’s so gloomy down here with our only two windows boarded up. You never said I would be waking up to mornings without any hope of sunshine. You never said that,” I emphasized, hoping it was true. “It makes me feel like I’m living in a closet. Surely you don’t want that.”
I hoped I was at least confusing him, but the anger in his face looked cemented.
“What good are new things if they look gloomy? You’ll be unhappy, too.”
My voice was weakening under the unflinching intensity of his furious glare. Perhaps he hadn’t heard a word after I had said the things that infuriated him. His hands were still opening and closing, as if he wanted to make fists to beat me with one moment and then changed his mind the next. I was tiptoeing over thin ice with every word I said, every look on my face, and every move I made. I saw myself as someone given the task to disarm a bomb. Tremble too much or make the wrong choice, and you would instantly become dust.
“But if you think this is better, you know better than I do,” I continued. It was too late to stop now. “I mean, you know the upstairs, and I don’t, so you’re probably right.”
I looked back at my food, sipped some now-cold coffee, and tried to act as casual as I could, undisturbed. I should be more excited for us, I thought. I had to get him to think I was all aboard his ship, sailing to his dream life.
“When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about some curtains for the windows. Curtains are really important when you want to give your home some warmth. My mother taught us that. I bet your mother thought the same way. Windows without them look naked, right? Just look at them. I’m surprised you never had any down here. Can you get some pictures of curtains? I’ll pick the best ones. And I like your idea about building a shelf for a television over there,” I said, nodding toward where he had said he planned to put it.
He turned and looked at the area again. His body softened, and he took a deep breath and nodded, but his breath was nowhere near as deep as mine. He nodded, and when he looked at me now, I saw that his face had relaxed, the ice in his eyes had melted, the muscles in his jaw had calmed. It gave me the eerie feeling that he could put on and take off masks in a second.
“Right, right,” he said. “You’re right about the windows. I’ll take off those boards. We need the sunshine. We’ll do all of it like we planned together. I know how to lay carpet, and I’ll show you what to do to help. I’ll even get you a pair of coveralls. We’ll work side by side, just as I imagined we would.”
“You’d better show me choices for the carpet,” I said, “before we get too far. Men don’t know as much about these things when it comes to color coordination.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Sure. My mother told my father he was color-blind. I’ll bring some catalogues back.”
“Can you get them today?” I said, trying to show even more excitement.
“Today?”
“It will be something fun to do. Together,” I said. “I’d like to get started as soon as we can. You’re busy during the week. We’ll only have weekends and whatever time we have in the evening.”
He nodded. “Yeah, today. I have to do some shopping anyway.”