Chapter 5 - The Ghost in the Street
I didn't tell Adriana.
I couldn't bring myself to shatter the first moment of peace she’d had in months.
I waited until she was in the shower,
the steam muffling the sound of the world,
before I stepped out onto the porch.
The air was humid,
smelling of rain and old asphalt.
The man was still there,
leaning against his car,
looking at the peeling paint of our building.
I walked down the steps,
each movement feeling like I was wading through deep water.
"You have ten seconds to get in that car and drive away,"
I said,
my voice a low,
dangerous growl.
Caleb looked up,
and for a moment,
I saw the boy I used to love hidden behind the tired eyes of a stranger.
"Sarah,"
he whispered,
his voice raspy.
"I saw the news.
I saw her on the television."
"You don't get to say her name,"
I snapped,
closing the distance between us.
"You don't get to see her,
you don't get to know her,
and you certainly don't get to be part of this."
"I know I messed up,"
he said,
holding up his hands as if to ward off my anger.
"I was a kid,
I was scared,
and I've spent every day since then hating myself."
"Then keep hating yourself,"
I replied,
my chest heaving.
"Because while you were busy 'hating yourself,'
I was working three jobs to buy her shoes."
"I was holding her through fevers while I wondered if I'd have enough money for rent."
"And now she has a daughter of her own,
a baby who will never know what it feels like to be left by a coward."
He looked at the window where the light was glowing,
the silhouette of Adriana moving across the glass.
"She looks just like you,"
he said,
a flash of genuine pain crossing his face.
"No,"
I corrected him,
my voice cold as ice.
"She looks like a woman who survived you."
"If you ever come near this house again,
or if you ever try to contact her,
I will make sure the police are the least of your worries."
"Do you understand me,
Caleb?"
He looked like he wanted to argue,
to offer some grand explanation or a check that would never be enough.
But he saw the look in my eyes—the look of a mother who had already fought the world and won.
He got into his car without another word,
the engine turning over with a pathetic whine.
As he drove away,
I stood in the middle of the street,
the silence of the night wrapping around me.
I had protected her from his absence for eighteen years;
I would protect her from his presence for eighty more.
When I went back inside,
Adriana was holding Lily,
humming a soft tune I remembered from my own childhood.
"Everything okay out there,
Mom?"
she asked,
tilting her head.
"Yes,"
I said,
May you like
locking the door and sliding the bolt home.
"Just taking out the trash."
