Page 58
Story: Lookin’ for Love
fifty-seven f
Back to the Past
M ike was waiting for me when I returned from my meeting with Ben.
“How ’bout me and you have a night out?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll even buy ya a diamond necklace.”
“No thanks.”
“C’mon, doll. You’ve been avoidin’ me for weeks.”
I considered his offer, not because I wanted to reconnect with Mike, but because I could sell the necklace and boost my nest egg.
“I’m done,” I said finally.
“Done? Nobody says done to me.”
“I just did.”
“You’ll be sorry.”
“I already am.”
I expected Mike to strike me, rape me, or destroy my belongings. Instead, he grabbed his wallet and moved to the door.
Before slamming the door, he said, “You’ll live to regret this.”
Mike was right on two counts: I was alive, no thanks to him, and I was living with regrets.
I waited nearly an hour to call Tammy, afraid Mike would come home and hear my conversation. I contemplated how I moved from one abusive relationship to another and vowed to change my life once I got back to Jersey. I felt strong and invincible until I remembered other promises I’d made and broken. Would this time be different?
Tammy and I spent an hour on the phone. She knew I wasn’t ready to talk about Kenya, so we kept the conversation light. She invited me to stay in their finished basement until I got back on my feet.
My next call was to the airline. After booking a flight to Philadelphia the following week, I moved onto the balcony and stared at the ocean. I’d lose the gorgeous views, tropical weather, money, luxury . . . and Mike.
No amount of money or natural beauty is worth a lifetime with Mike.
Mike drifted in and out of my life for the next few days. I waited until the morning of my flight to come clean.
“I’m leaving,” I began.
“For how long?”
“Forever,” I said.
“ What? ”
“You heard me. I’m heading back to Jersey.”
“But why? We’ve got a great thing goin’.”
You’re a narcissist and a sociopath.
“Do I really have to explain?” I asked.
He looked at me, clueless. “Please don’t.”
I caught myself before I clung to his crumbs of affection.
“It’s over.” I unlocked the front door and threw the keys at him.
“No, Ava.”
Were those tears in his eyes? I turned away before I could change my mind.
“Goodbye.”
I slammed the door and ran for the elevator. He didn’t follow.
I glanced up at our balcony once before my taxi left. The glare from the morning sun partially blinded me, but I swore I saw Mike framed in the doorway.
w
I cried when I met Tammy at the luggage carousel. Her smiling face meant freedom from Mike and the opportunity to start a new life.
“I’m so happy to see you! You’re gonna love our new house! You’re gonna love Danny! You’re gonna love your new digs . . .” Tammy had always been hyperactive but never as hyper as she was that day. She chattered on and on.
A headache appeared behind my eyes. I hoped this wasn’t her daily demeanor.
“Danny’s waitin’ in the car. You’re gonna love him. You’re gonna love our car. You’re gonna . . .”
She’s my salvation. Stay calm.
Tammy’s motormouth went into high gear when we met Danny at the car. The two of them talked over each other, discussing my future.
“I’ll getcha back to dancin’ soon’s you’re ready. Money’s outrageous these days. We’ll getcha a car. We’ll find ya a boyfriend. Maybe an agent . . .”
“Thanks, Tammy,” I said. “First, I need to find my kids, then I’ll find a job. Don’t think I want to dance.”
“Not dance? Who are ya? Rules are looser now. Skimpy costumes. Pole dancin’. Lap dances. You’ll make a fortune . . .”
“They need a bartender at Dream Girls,” Danny said. “How ’bout that?”
“Yeah, yeah, Dream Girls . . .”
“I’ll think about it.” I’d hoped to put an end to the conversation, but the two of them rambled on.
Tammy and Danny lived in a small ranch house on a country road between Trenton and New Brunswick, a perfect location for dancing in either town or anywhere in between.
If I want to dance, that is.
Their basement had been converted into a windowless, paneled family room with a pull-out couch, a tiny TV, dresser, and a full bathroom. For a moment, I missed my luxury condo and ocean view; then I remembered Mike.
“Get unpacked. Then we’ll party. Then we’ll show ya our wedding pics. Then we’ll—” Tammy never paused for a breath.
I wanted to sleep undisturbed for a week, but Tammy and Danny had other plans. They offered me crystal meth, which I politely refused.
She shrugged. “More for us then.”
The powder vanished up their noses. Within minutes, their verbal rant accelerated.
Vodka, hashish, and cocaine were next on the menu. I resisted the urge to snort a few lines of coke, knowing how much I needed to rest. I needed food, too, but knew better than to ask. Food ranked low on the priority list of speed freaks.
The party went on and on, as did their so-called conversation. A little before midnight, I excused myself and went to bed.
I slept intermittently. Each time I awoke, I heard pacing and voices above me. How long had it been since they’d slept?
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