The Way Forward

The Way Forward

“You’ll never be content,” he said. “We’ve got a good thing going, Amanda. Why ruin it?”

That was a typical Tyler-like thing to say. First, he would plead, then he would rant, finally, he would purport to know her better than she knew herself. It was their fifth break-up in two years, and she was determined to make it stick this time. She wouldn’t allow him to use his words to destroy her resolve.

“You know you can’t make it on your own.” He smirked. “You’ve never even spent a night by yourself.”

“Whatever,” she said, rising from her seat. “I wanted to end this relationship amicably, but if you don’t, there’s not much I can do.” She snatched the check from the table. “Call me when you want to pick up your things from the house.” Without another word, she paid at the cash register and left the diner, holding her breath until she was out the door. On her fourth step, she realized her body was trembling and why. Tyler was right—she hadn’t ever been alone.

After high school, her path had been clear: college, a good job, marriage, children, happily ever after. How naivé she had been, thinking the road her parents had taken would make her happy. After all, she hadn’t even gotten to step two. Working at the bank had seemed the logical choice since her degree was in finance, but she had grown tired and bored with the work after six months and quit. After three years of jumping from one financial institution to another, she concluded that helping the rich get richer wasn’t for her. Afterward, she worked as a bank teller, a movie production assistant, an ice cream scooper (where she gained five pounds), and a dog-walker (where she lost those extra five pounds but was bitten twice). So she used her minor in English and got a job as an assistant editor at a medium-sized publishing house. She enjoyed interacting with budding authors—they took chances, which made her want to take them, too. Tyler was her boss. She found him intelligent, handsome, and funny but, after two years, terribly controlling. And that had been nice for a while, but somewhere in that time, Amanda had lost herself.

Now, she was on her own for the first time in her life, and it was terrifying.

When she turned the corner for home, and the house loomed in the distance, it looked simultaneously inviting and frightening. Her grandmother and grandfather had lived there since their marriage, and Gran had lived alone after Granpa’s death. After Gran’s death, Amanda was surprised to learn she was the sole heir to everything her grandmother had owned, including the house. She’d been slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of moving from her parent’s home, but when Tyler suggested he move into the sprawling house with her, she accepted. Amanda was happy as long as she didn’t have to be on her own. Or so she thought. Even then, hadn’t there been signs that said otherwise? Yes, she decided there had, but she chose to ignore them. But there was no sense in regretting previous decisions; now it was time to worry about her future.

She pulled into the garage, turned off the ignition, and heard Lizzie yowling inside the kitchen—the tabby was probably voicing her displeasure at Jo’s tardiness.

“I’m coming, your royal highness,” Amanda called.

She opened the door, silently cursing Tyler for not locking it, and stepped into the kitchen, almost sliding into a puddle of cat pee. Lizzie sat on a countertop staring at her accusingly.

“Goddamit, Lizzie! I’m only an hour late! This is uncalled for.”

Grabbing a handful of paper towels, she hastily cleaned up the mess and grudgingly gave Lizzie her can of Fancy Feast. The orange cat purred her approval as Jo stroked her soft fur.

“There, you demanding creature. At least one of us is content.”

She glanced around the spacious room, unhappy with the pile of dishes Tyler had left in the sink. Another of his typical behaviors was leaving all housekeeping details to Amanda, the woman. Well, from now on, the only messes around here would be the ones she made. Except for those made by Lizzie, of course.

She heard eleven chimes from the clock on the living room mantel, and, for some reason, it brought back a memory. After your grandfather passed, I went out and got a job, Gran had said. That clock was the first purchase made with my own money. How her grandmother’s eyes had shined with pride! You don’t need a man to be happy. The clock had a marble base with a gold-colored face and was not exactly Amanda’s style, but she kept it in memory of her grandmother.

The reconnection with Gran was welcome, but it was eleven o’clock, much later than she’d thought—no wonder the cat had been unhappy. There was an early morning meeting Jo couldn’t afford to miss, and she still had to shower before bed.

Beneath the hot water, not only did she wash off the day’s dirt, but she also lathered away all signs of her previous life. Tomorrow morning would be the start of a brand-new life for her, and even though she felt trepidation at being in the big house alone, there was the promise of exciting days ahead. Sure she wouldn’t be able to nod off, she picked up the book by her bedside and settled back into the pillows for a bit of reading. Within fifteen minutes, her eyelids grew heavy, so she put her book back on the bedside table, shut off the lamp, and snuggled beneath the covers. When sleep came, she welcomed it like a long-lost friend.

***

“Make one sound, and I’ll kill you.”

Amanda’s eyes flew open and were met with darkness. A man was straddling her and the tip of a blade pressed against her throat. His breath stank of cigarettes and alcohol, and his body smelled of sweat and fear. But his voice was steady, and his words measured, so she kept perfectly still as she calculated her options—unfortunately, there weren’t many.

“I know you’re thinking of running, but I’m warning you, I’ll slice open your throat.”

If she could calm the wild thumping of her heart, she might stave off the panic that threatened to immobilize her. She decided she wouldn’t be in this predicament if Tyler were still there—he would have fought off her attacker, and she would have found solace within his protective arms. But there was no sense in thinking about what might have been—she was alone. No one would come to her rescue.

The blade lifted from her throat as the man ran both hands down the length of her body. There was no doubt what he wanted. Would she allow him to use her in such a horrific way and hope he would leave when finished? The thought made her cringe in disgust. She had another choice, didn’t she? She could risk harm by fighting back and saving herself. But she questioned her fortitude.

“Just keep quiet, and if you’re a good girl, I won’t hurt you.”

He looked down and began to unbuckle his jeans.

The pale moonlight slanted through the eastern window, spilling soft light onto his coarse features. She dug her fingernails into the bedsheets and shivered in disgust. There was no way she would allow this animal to harm her. It was time to act.

“No,” she cried, bringing her left knee up and into his crotch and using both hands to push him away simultaneously. He grunted in surprise and toppled off her, landing on the hardwood floor with a loud Oof! Taking the opportunity, she leaped from the opposite side of the bed and hit the ground running. Her destination was the front door, but when her would-be attacker quickly gained his footing, she knew that wasn’t an option. She raced down the hall and made it as far as the living room, where she ducked behind a wall and crouched against the fireplace.

“You can’t hide, little rabbit. I’ll find you and kill you.” His voice was much closer than she hoped.

From the sound of his footsteps, he was closing in on her hiding place. She looked around wildly, searching for something to hit and stun him with so that she could make a break for the door. Gran’s clock! The heavy base made it a formidable weapon, and it would fit nicely in her hand.

“I can hear your breathing,” he whispered. He was just outside the living room entranceway.

It was now or never. With an anguished cry, she raced around the corner, the clock raised above her head. The man’s eyes widened with surprise, and he stuck out his hands to fend her off. But it was too late. Jo swung the hefty timepiece at his head with all her strength and struck him directly in the temple. Her assailant crumpled to the floor. She wasted no time in racing for the door. Once outside, she stood, trembling and fighting the urge to return to her house and finish him off with another blow using Gran’s clock. Instead, she jogged next door and rang the doorbell.

***

“I didn’t realize moving would be such a pain in the ass.” Tyler stood behind the truck, holding a box of books, sweat dripping down his handsome face.

Jo handed a box filled with pots and pans to his friend, Peter, which he deposited into the truck’s bed. Tyler gave Peter his books and told him that was the last of his belongings. Two more of Tyler’s friends leaned against the vehicle, waiting for him. Occasionally they glanced at Jo with admiring eyes.

Tyler put his hand on her shoulder. “Jo, I can’t say how sorry I am enough. I should have been here to protect you.”

She hoped her smile wasn’t too condescending. “And I can’t say I can care for myself enough.”

Noticing the hurt look on his face softened her heart; he was only trying to be protective of her. “Really, Tyler. It’s okay. Actually, I’m proud of myself. I hurt the bastard pretty bad. After a short hospital stay, he was off to jail, where he’ll sit until trial.” She shook her head. “I should have installed a security system a long time ago. But I have one now.”

He studied her face. “I guess you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.”

Even though his words didn’t exactly make her feel respected, she appreciated the sentiment behind them. It didn’t matter what other people thought of her anyway. In the weeks following her attack, she had never felt more confident, alive, happy to be on her own. And best of all, she was content.