The Kidnapper's Wife

22. After

                  

After the discovery of Connor's parents, I feel exhilarated, as if for the first time in months I'm getting somewhere.

Flushed with energy, I suddenly feel like I have to get out of the house, I have to do something. Today, for the first time since the reporters began stalking me, I finally feel ready. I am going to face my fears, no matter how many ugly pictures of me they take, no matter how many prying questions they shout. I can do this.

I'm going to the grocery store.

The second I get in my car I change my mind. As its engine revs up, I feel awkward behind the steering wheel, like I don't belong. You can't drive! You've probably practically forgotten how! The little voice in my head laughs at me. Just go back inside and order from Peapod like you usually do. I grit my teeth in determination. No. Not this time. This time, the little voice isn't going to win. Cara, and God knows who else are coming over tomorrow, and I am going to show them all just how fine I am by greeting them with homemade food.

I shift the car into drive, almost forgetting to open the garage door before I start my descent from the driveway.

Right on cue, I feel flashes bouncing off the glass windows. I can see the headlines now: BETRAYED! JADE CARTER EMERGES FROM HER DEN OF MISERY FOR FIRST TIME IN MONTHS!

I try not to let myself care.

They shout at me, as I drive, getting in the way of my car, but I just keep going, though slowly. They are trespassing on my property and I have asked them to leave, I know that at this point if I hurt them, it'd be hard to find a jury to convict me of anything, but I still don't want to cause anyone any more pain than I feel like I've already caused to Anna. So I'm careful until I reach the street and they relent, retreating back into my yard, most looking victorious, finally their campout has paid off.

I'm not paying attention to them anymore though, as I pull out of the neighborhood, I'm focused on the four or five vans that follow me, paparazzi hoping to get me on the other side, where they don't have to shout at me through the glass of my windows but can get up in my face instead. I don't plan on giving them that opportunity.

I make my way to the stop sign, following the speed limit. But as soon as I swing out onto the main road, I take off, and perform an immediate left turn. I follow it with a right turn, speeding down a tree lined street. Crossing my fingers it will be enough, I loop around a pond and take another left, adding one more right for good measure. Spotting a dead end street up ahead, I pull onto it, parallel parking my car so it blends in with others lining the road. Then I wait. A few seconds pass before the first van zooms by, followed by a second in close pursuit. That seems to be it though, the other vans must not have made it through my sequence of turns. I give it 5 more minutes to be sure, then pull back onto the road and continue on to the grocery store.

Still feeling paranoid, I don't go to my usual store, instead opting for the Harris Teeter a few extra miles south. After I park, I look around the parking lot, gaging if there are any reporters. When I don't see anything suspicious, I grab my reusable shopping bags and slowly make my way out of the car. I was smart enough to wear a baseball cap to hide my face, it's not only the reporters around here who recognize me. I keep my head down anyway though, afraid I will see the telltale jolt of recognition in the eyes of the people I pass. 

Once in the store, I relax a little, letting the wave of comfort the grocery store always provides wash over me. For the first time since leaving the house, I allow myself a small smile. I'm in my happy place.

Meandering through the aisles, I pick out fruits and vegetables, enjoying the generic music playing over the speakers. No one seems to know me, and I'm grateful, for once everything is going better than expected rather than worse.

It's not until I get to the dairy section that I see them. Standing there, down the aisle a few dozen feet. They have already spotted me, I can tell because the man has his hand on the woman's arm as if to restrain her.

Anna's parents.

I feel a wave of dizziness rush over me, and almost stumble into my own cart. I don't know what to do, how to react. Should I say something? Should I acknowledge them? Should I pretend I don't see them? It's a little late for that, I suppose, since I'm standing here gaping at them.

Before I can decide how to respond, Anna's mother breaks free of her husband's grasp and approaches me, her angry eyes matching her scowl.

"Look at you," her voice is loud, accusing, "Out in public like nothing is wrong, living your life as if you're completely unaffected. Must be nice."

"Cathy" her husband cautions her, but she ignores him.

"How can you live with yourself? After what you allowed to happen. You knew. You knew he was obsessed with her. You knew something was wrong. But you did nothing. We even told you we had concerns and what did you do? You defended him! You yelled at us, like we were in the wrong for accusing your perfect little husband of anything. Not so perfect now huh?"

Her voice drips with venom as she goes on, "And for all those months, all the denial, all those implications that it was our fault she was gone. Well not anymore. The truth is finally out!"

I feel tears springing to my eyes, I can only imagine how defeated my expression is right now. She is vocalizing every thought the tiny voice in my head has repeated over and over again for the past few months. Validating them all. She's right. I am horrible.

"What he did to Anna..." she trails off, unable to even speak.

"Cathy, that's enough." Her husband is firm now, and he leads her away from me, fixing me with a single glance as he does. His eyes are not apologetic though, they are just sad, the eyes of a broken man. If anything, it's worse than his wife's harsh accusations.

When they round the corner, I abandon my cart, not even caring that some of the items inside it are frozen foods. I can't stomach another second in the store, and I barely make it to my car before I throw up in a bush adjacent my parking space. Ignoring the disgusted looks of the few shoppers around me, I get in my car and drive home, crying the whole way.