Benz flashed. In the midst of unpredictability she did her best to be stable and obedient. This sudden impulsiveness filled her with excitement and fear. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sat in the car, smelled the new car aroma, felt the leather steering wheel, and turned the key.
Her motivation was not to leave Tony forever. It was just that she felt smothered. The constant monitoring, censoring, and controlling added to her sense of psychological instability. And the different Tonys added another dimension to her suffocation. A brief reprieve or a momentary freedom would help her sanity. Besides, she told him a year ago she liked to drive. That is all she wanted to do, drive.
Do not bite at the bait of pleasure,
till you know there is no hook beneath it.
—Thomas Jefferson
Chapter 47
The dashboard in front of her looked more like something from a helicopter, dials and lights coming to life. She tried to remain calm. Driving hadn’t changed in twenty-two months. She just needed to put the car in gear and push the accelerator. Trembling at the prospect of the simplistic task, she almost ran into the garage door. However, she remembered to push the button, wait for the door to lift, and concentrate on breathing—slowly inhaling and exhaling. The door opened, and cautiously, she proceeded down the driveway. Claire prayed that if anyone saw the car, they would assume it was Eric. At the gates, she again pushed a button, the one she’d seen Eric push many times. At first, they seemed to hesitate, but then the gates swung wide.
She drove toward I-80 and inhaled. It was the sweetest air she’d smelled in almost two years. The clock on the dashboard read 11:16. In forty-four minutes, Tony would expect her in his office. She reasoned that perhaps the web conference would go long, and he wouldn’t notice her absence. Or maybe the phone calls would start, and he would be preoccupied. She knew the truth: Tony could do ten things at once. Come twelve and one second he’d be irritated, by twelve fifteen he’d be fuming. Feeling her heart rate intensify, she wondered what would happen when they reunited. What kind of punishment would he decide is appropriate for this behavior? Feeling her wet palms slide on the leather steering wheel, she chose to not linger on the possibilities. The Mercedes was now heading east on I-80. Her mind searched for possible destinations. Courtney—no, she is out of town. Emily—no, that is the first place Tony would check.
Utilizing her therapy skills she convinced herself this was a deserved break. She also instructed herself to relish the overpowering sensation of freedom, a feeling she hadn’t known in twenty-two months. Slowly, she felt her senses awaken: the countryside looked brighter, the leather seats emitted a stronger aroma, the wheels on the pavement created a soft hum, and the vibration responded to her movement of the wheel. It all invigorated her.
The brilliant dash indicated a full tank of gas. Silently she thanked Eric, momentarily worrying he would suffer because of her actions. She concentrated on the majestic world outside the windows, watching the traffic that consisted mostly of semitrucks. At first, this made Claire uncomfortable, but the Mercedes could weave and pass easily. Before moving to Tony’s she drove a Honda Accord. It was a good car, but the Mercedes felt like driving a cloud. Then the clock caught her eye, 12:11. She started to wonder what was happening at home, Would he be looking for her or sending someone else to look? All Claire could do now was drive and think. She loved him but the constant pressure was wearing on her. She just needed a break.
Taking the bypass around Davenport, she decided to go south on 74, away from NYC. At 3:30 she passed Peoria, Illinois. The emptiness in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t stopped since she left the estate. She desperately needed a restroom and some food. In the distance she spotted golden arches. French fries sounded wonderful. She hadn’t eaten fast food in almost two years. Claire turned the wheel and eased into the McDonald’s parking lot. Contemplating her order she realized she didn’t have money. Oh well, the restroom was free.
If she had planned this excursion, she would have grabbed a coat and her purse. More than likely Tony had her ID and credit card, but for appearances she usually had cash in her wallet. The overpowering aroma of fries lingered