Exodus (The Ravenhood)

“You sure?”

“Positive. Is the last offer still on the table from a few months ago?”

“I’ll check. If so, I’ll rearrange some meetings. I can be there by noon tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

Tossing the phone on the counter, I pour another two fingers in the tumbler.

“To you, Sir,” I lift my glass before tossing back my dinner.

My body vibrates along with the sound of the motors as they whiz past me on the narrow road.

The wind kicks up as they speed by, and I wave, teeth chattering, shivering in the cold, before looking into the direction they’re heading.

Fear slams into me when I see the road ending abruptly in the distance. There’s nothing but darkness past the tree line.

“Stop!” I scream as they continue to blast by. Furiously, I wave my arms in warning and point to the road ahead, but I know they can’t hear me. Flailing, I move to step out onto the road just as the Camaro comes into view. I attempt to call out to him, but I can’t. Instead, his name comes out muddled off my tongue. “Stop!” I step out into the road to give chase, but they’re too far gone. I’m too late. It’s too late.

I jerk awake as one of the French doors crashes against the wall, a gust of wind covering me as I whimper, and slam my eyes shut, starting a slow count to even my breathing and steady my heartbeat. A hot tear escapes as the dream freshly implants in my psyche. Another icy gust of wind has me scrambling from the bed to shut my balcony doors on a drab, cloud-littered sunrise.

After a long, hot shower to warm me up, the Advil finally starts to kick in. Sucking on a water bottle, I hydrate while I pick through my old closet and the wardrobe of a twenty-year-old me. Apparently, my things had been carefully unpacked after they restored order to the house. Moving the hangers aside one by one, I pause when I spot the crumpled dress on the floor tucked in the corner of the closet. Fingering the straps, the rest of the pale-yellow dress falls limp in front of me, faint stains covering the bodice.

A dress still soiled from our watermelon fight, the night I confessed to Sean I was in love with him.

“I take it back.”

Throat stinging, I press the fabric to my face in hopes of breathing in any trace of him and am disappointed. After we broke up, I couldn’t bring myself to wash the dress. The ache gnaws at me as I carefully fold it and stick it on the shelf above before heading downstairs and hauling my suitcase in from the car. Taking my time, I restructure the closet with my temporary wardrobe. I don’t know how long I’m staying, but with last night’s decision, I know it will take some time to get it all done. And it’s apparent I need some semblance of order.

The last thirty-six hours have been a mess. I splintered within hours of arriving here. I’d confessed unthinkable things to my ex-fiancé who didn’t deserve it. I’d said too much. I can’t fall back into old patterns or I’ll lose focus. My emotions may have gotten me here, but my sensibilities need to kick in and help me navigate the rest.

After unpacking, I head downstairs with my rocks glass and the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Still a bit disoriented from hitting the bottle so hard, I stumble in my footing and drop the glass which shatters on the kitchen floor. I gather a broom and dustpan and begin sweeping the shards up when a faint but distinct smell wafts into my nose.

Dropping the pan, I stare down at the cracked glass in disbelief. I lift one of the larger pieces and sniff.

Gin.

I would know this scent anywhere. At times, I can still taste it on his lips.

Big Brother is watching you.

Racing to the small pantry that houses the security equipment, I rewind the last twenty-four hours to around the time I arrived. But it’s only my car in the driveway that appears on screen, and it’s only me that enters the house. I was alone last night.

I palm my face and sigh.

The dream, the dress, the surfacing memories, along with the lingering alcohol, have definitely set my imagination off. I’m already a prisoner of this place and the way it’s haunting me.

I decide to preserve some dignity and toss the glass into the trash.

My mind is playing tricks already, and I’m not going to entertain it.