“Deal.” His smile nearly split his face in two. “Becky, honey, I promise you won’t regret this. I really do believe I could have a gift for political work. If I can get in a position of power, I can make a real difference.”
She convinced herself that it was a victory. Two years was nothing in the grand scheme of things, and maybe a change of scene would do them both good. Didn’t she keep complaining about how the city was grinding her down? The school budgets had been slashed to ribbons, she hadn’t had a raise in years, the classroom sizes were ballooning just as resources were dwindling. It wouldn’t be hard to get her teaching accreditation in Texas. She could have a couple easy years teaching in a nice suburban school, maybe take a few grad classes on the side. They could get a bigger place there—a house, even, with a front yard and a garage and a car. No more brushing their teeth on top of each other. No more sweaty bus rides uptown lugging bags of groceries.
Big skies. Open plains. Patrick by her side.
Two years was nothing. A blip on the radar screen.
She didn’t know then just how quickly a life could be obliterated, like a sandcastle at high tide.
Sudan, Texas—272 Miles to Albuquerque
Rebecca glanced at the clock. It was close to one a.m., which would be eleven on the West Coast. Maybe he was asleep already, or maybe he was in the hotel bar drinking a vodka tonic with one of those “Hello, My Name Is” labels still stuck to his shirt, as if the people there wouldn’t know the name of the keynote speaker. She had spoken to him earlier that evening, after he’d given his talk but before he’d gone to dinner. He was fresh from the shower—he always showered before dinner—and she could hear him getting dressed over the speaker, the sound of silk slipping through his fingers as he looped his tie around his neck. She’d answered his usual questions—Was she taking it easy? Had she eaten lunch? Had she set the house alarm?—and promised to call him first thing in the morning. She told him that she loved him, and that she missed him, even if the truth was more complicated.
She reached into her bag, wrapped her fingers around the hard plastic of her cell phone, dropped it. It was late—if he was going to call, he would have done so already. He didn’t like to wake her up. Still, cold fingers of fear brushed against her neck. If he called and she didn’t answer, would he send someone to the house to check on her? And if they saw she wasn’t at home, would they find a way to track her down?
She thought of the papers tucked into her bag. Maybe he already had. Maybe they were already on their way.
She gripped the handle on the door, knuckles white. Her lungs tightened. It was happening again: the walls closing in, the darkness creeping at the edge of her vision. The Jeep was suddenly too small, a tiny metal cage, there wasn’t enough air for them both. She was inhaling Cait’s breath, and Cait was inhaling hers, and that meant they were using up all the oxygen. They were going to suffocate in this stupid tin can that smelled like stale cigarette smoke and fake pine and Cait’s shampoo and the perfume that Patrick had given her for her thirty-fifth birthday and God how could she survive this, how could she survive?
She felt the girl’s eyes on the side of her face, watching. Don’t look at me. Don’t look. The walls pressed in tighter. She was a baby bird nestled tight inside its egg. Her lungs began to scream.
California.
This was a trick she’d taught herself after the first few panic attacks. If she needed to escape the confines of her mind, she would take herself to California. She pictured the palm trees arcing above the parks and the Victorian houses painted in shades of sherbet and the smell of salt water everywhere. If she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could conjure up the view of San Francisco from Crown Beach: skyscrapers shrouded in mist, the swell of Nob Hill, the wide arc of the Bay Bridge.
She felt her rib cage start to relax, her breathing ease. She felt strong enough to talk. “Do you mind if I roll down the window a little?