The hands on the clock seem to be glued as the hours endlessly drag on and on. In two days, I will make my escape…if my nerves don’t collapse, if I don’t lose it… Every noise seems amplified in the fear of getting caught and the exhilaration of planning. My hearing is damaged so I have to pay even more attention…listen even harder…
Sounds, big and small, sounds that I am so used to, like the sudden roar of the garbage truck, doing it’s thing at the bakery next door, makes me jump out of my skin. That sound is bittersweet. I listen as it empties bins full of day old loaves of bread that once kept me and my babies alive. My face reddens with shame at the thought…never again will you have to climb into dirty garbage bins to rescue sustenance…never again…Tears run down my face and I get angry with myself for being such a baby…forget everything Neoma…everything…just look forward, ahead of you, to the life you will have…
The very thought makes the panic of uncertainty rise in me, churning my gut to shreds. What life will I have? Where am I going to go? Far away for sure… far away from him…where he can’t find us…I think out west is the better idea but I want to go home so bad….where I feel safe…where I have family….where my Andalee lives….but he said he would kill all of them…where do I go? Don’t worry about that right now…
I carefully separate which clothes I will take. Is it warm in BC? I don’t want the babies to get cold like they did here. I set piles of clothes for each of us, in a specific drawer, and hope it is enough. When the babies nap, I haul out my old battered suitcases and wipe off the spider webs. Quietly and carefully, I retrieve the clothing and pack them up in the suitcases. I fill two of them and hide them in the back of the babies’ closet, our safe place. The last one I leave empty to put in toys and last minute stuff. In the bottom of the special drawer, I place what we will wear that day. I select the best clothes we have…socks, underwear, pants, shirts and spring jackets for the babies…panties with holes, bra, jeans and sweater for me…again my face flushes with shame at the holey panties. You will have brand new ones soon…
It feel like hours must have gone by and I could just cry when I look at the clock and only 27 minutes have passed. Why does time do that to me? Does it not know that I need it to work right and gallop through the days until I leave? How will I ever be able to tolerate the deliberate dragging of time? How can I slow down the liquid wanting in my veins, make my heart beat to the rhythm of the world, as it takes it sweet time? Don’t think about it…just do what you always do…be patient…
I can’t tell the babies about the choo choo train ride until we are on it. I can’t tell anyone anything at the risk of being discovered. I have to get my money stashed over at Michael’s store but I can’t until I leave. I can’t risk the money being found. Old suitcases in the closet do not arouse suspicion. Almost a hundred dollars in small bills most certainly will.
…dear God…don’t let me lose my nerve from this eternal waiting…don’t let me lose my mind…
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Tags: choo choo train, escape, eternal waiting, suitcases, underwear