More than anything, I wish that were true.
37
JESSICA
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I type awayon my laptop, the words pouring from me like rain during a hurricane. A nature soundtrack, with birds chirping merrily in the background, plays through Troy’s noise-canceling headphones.
One moment Bailey is snoozing beside my feet on the cobblestone patio, the next, she scrambles to a sit, her attention on the garden gate. I turn my head to see what has her excited.
Simone waves and opens the wooden gate. Jasper is with her, pulling on his leash to get to Bailey that much sooner. Bailey isn’t wearing herService Dog in Trainingvest and doesn’t wait for my command. She rushes to her friend, her tail wagging like crazy.
I stop the soundtrack and put the headphones next to the laptop on the small round table. “Hi. I see you made it past my prison guards.” I flash a smile so Simone knows I’m kidding…kind of.
Who knows what the protesters will do if I leave my house without Troy by my side? They have the same effect on me that many of the prison guards at Beckley had. I fear them. I loathe them. They’re the ones calling the shots.
Treating me like a caged animal.
Deeming me only worthy of manipulation and neglect.
“I thought you might want a lunch break.” Simone lifts up the Picnic & Treats bag she’s carrying. “And I figured someone wouldn’t mind going for a you-know-what.” She points at Bailey.
“Thank you! For both of those things.” Bailey has hinted more than a few times this morning that she wants to go for a walk, but I don’t feel safe doing that with the protesters in front of my house.
Fewer protesters are out there now compared to during the first couple of days. It’s mostly the diehards who haven’t given up yet. But it’s also Saturday, so there are more of them than yesterday. The number of reporters has also declined. The rest, no doubt, left to report on something far more earth-shattering than me sitting in my house all day.
“I’ll take the dogs for their walk first, and then we can have lunch,” Simone tells me. “How much longer do you need?”
“Thirty minutes? Does that sound okay?” That should be enough time to finish the chapter.
“Sounds good.”
I fetch Bailey’s leash from the hook inside by the back door and fasten it onto her collar. “You be a good girl for your Auntie Simone?” I give Bailey a hug. Her tail wags in response or in excitement for the walk. “Thank you. You’re the best.” I plant a kiss on the top of her head.
Simone and the dogs go out the gate, and I sit back down on the chair.
The protesters’ voices grow louder. “She and Lucas don’t have kids,” one woman yells, and my heart ceases to beat. “Of course she doesn’t have an issue hanging out with a dangerous offender. She’d feel differently if she had children like the rest of us.”
White-hot anger propels me to my feet. I fling open the gate and storm to the front of the house, not giving much thought to the risk I’m taking. Right now, I don’t care if they hurl rotten tomatoes or whatever at me, I refuse to let them treat Simone that way. She’s been nothing but sweet and kind toward me. She’s made things more bearable when the protesters have been stripping away my freedom.
“You’re angry at me,” I yell. “Don’t take your ignorance out on people who have done nothing to hurt you.”
“It’s okay, Jess,” Simone urges, worry and sadness choking her voice. She lost her daughter years ago when she was pregnant and a drunk driver stole the precious life from her.
There’s no way I’m letting that mean woman’s comment slide.
“It’s not okay. Simone did nothing to deserve this,” I shout. “Idid nothing to deserve this. You’re no better than my husband who used to physically and verbally abuse me. Who used his strength and mind games to intimidate and manipulate. You’re nothing but selfish bullies who believe in twisted lies and not the truth. I. Did. Nothing. To deserve this.”
I throw Simone one more apologetic glance for what they put her through and stomp back into the safety of my backyard.
I grab the noise-canceling headphones, hit Play on the nature soundtrack, and resume writing. I pour my anger and frustration into the words and wrap them with sadness. The sadness that’s been growing in my chest for the past few days and will only get worse tomorrow.
On Amelia’s birthday.
By the time Simone returns from walking the dogs, I have not only finished the chapter, I’ve started writing a healthy chunk of the next one.
