POV Ella
"Where would you like to go?" The driver asks me.
"I would… Let's go to the beach. Yes, drop me off at the beach." I pull the blanket closer. I feel better for having it.
I glance at the side mirror. Keith is still standing there, by the door.
I don't know what I expected. I mean nothing to him. My chest aches from the pain and disappointment.
I look out the other side of the car.
The driver moves out, and I force myself to keep looking forward.
I truly am alone. I have nowhere to go.
As long as I am married, my father won't let me come to his house. I don't have any friends. I should have studied less and made some friends in college.
I… can't make myself go back to Keith's house yet. I don't think I could bear his indifference or worse, his absence.
I stare out my window absently. I have no idea how long we drive. My hands still shiver. It's the cold, I tell myself, just the cold—nothing else.
The cab comes to a stop. "That'll be $120, Miss."
I blanch. I'm not sure I have any money. I look around, terrified, to find my purse hanging from my shoulder all this time, sitting under my blanket.
I open it to find 20 bucks in cash and a card. The allowance card that I just randomly grabbed and slipped into the bag. I heave a sigh of relief and hand it to the driver. He swipes and returns the card, and I step out onto the beach.
I feel the sand beneath my toes and my heart settles— just a little.
I can feel the sand. I look down, finding it strange. I stare at my bare feet dumbfounded. Huh. I lost my shoes somewhere along the way. Well, it could've been worse. I could've lost my cell phone too.
I check my pockets, then my purse. Today is a gift that just keeps on giving. I've lost my cell.
I snort abruptly. Then I chuckle. And then I start laughing. I laugh and laugh so hard my stomach hurts. My sides ache. Tears stream down my face.
I can't stop laughing. I collapse to my knees by the sea, laughing so hard I'm sure I look deranged. I'm not even sure what's so hilarious. Maybe it's how ridiculous this day has been. Maybe it's the fact I'm so alone, no one would miss me if I died here and now. Maybe it's the fact that my whole life is one big fat joke.
I don't know when my laughter dissolves into tears, but at some point I hear myself sobbing. I don't know why I'm crying. Today was no different than the rest of my life.
I taste the salt in my tears as they sting my cheek and mouth. My chest heaves with the strength of my sobs, that won't abate.
I wish Keith was here. My sobs redouble, and I feel my heart breaking all over again.
I hug the blanket as close as I can, and I cry in the sand like my world is ending.
Because it probably is.
Something wet and warm caresses my cheek. It's nice, but I don't want to wake up yet. My cheek hurts something fierce, and the bed feels hard and soft at the same time, but I don't care.
Warm water splatters onto my face and some of it enters my nose and mouth, choking me and I sit up gasping.
I look around disoriented. My eyes are nearly swollen shut, my right cheek is on fire, and my lip feels tight and crusted.
I sit there, looking around. It's dark now. Before I can register what is happening, a bigger wave crashes into me this time and I scramble backwards. Wave. I'm still at the beach!
I stumble as I get up, my right leg having gone numb at some point, but I finally manage to get back from the tide that's coming in.
I am wet, crusted in sand, and no one is around to even ask the time. I sigh defeatedly. I clutch the wet blanket around me tighter and slowly walk towards the road. I am on some private stretch of the beach, as I can see lights further away.
I walk towards the lights. A cab passing by takes pity on my bare feet.
"Are you alright, miss? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Hospital? "No, just home. Will you take me to 7th Hill road, Hughes Avenue?"
He looks at me dubiously for a few seconds, deliberating, before nodding.
I slip into the back seat, feeling sorry for trashing his cab. "I'm sorry about all the sand."
He's an older man, with a bushy mustache and thick white hair. He's well built, like a linebacker, but must be at least in his sixties.
"Don't you worry about that." He looks at me for a few seconds, chewing on his thoughts before saying gently, "If you are in trouble, miss, I can help. We can go to the police." I just shake my head. I feel choked with emotion. "Is there someone I can contact for you? I have a girl myself, about your age. If she ever needs help, I hope someone will help her." He looks at me in the rear view mirror again, truly concerned.
Tears I thought had dried fill my eyes again. "I'm not in any trouble." At least not the kind anyone can help with. I choose to ignore his question. I'm sure anyone I can call on will refuse to help me.
I recall Grandpa's words. My father essentially sold me for a connection to the Ingrams. My mother is entirely complicit. They wish I didn't exist.
We stay silent after that. I can feel his gaze land on me frequently in the back seat, but I studiously ignore it. Eventually, I close my eyes and drift off.
"We're here." I startle awake, and notice we are right outside my building. I thank him and offer the allowance card. Then I give him the $20 dollars as a tip for messing up his cab. He tries to refuse but I insist. I step out of the car, and give the driver a small wave.
"Look after yourself, miss." He drives off, and I take a deep breath.
I don't know what's waiting for me upstairs — but I'll have to face it.
I step out of the elevator and stand outside the door. I'm not sure if anyone's home. I'm not sure if I want anyone there. With a shivering hand, I unlock the door and step inside.
"She's been missing for more than 6 hrs! I gave you the contact number of the cab driver an hour ago!" Keith screams into the phone. "I don't care what you have to do, find her!"
He is still wearing his blue pants, although the cardigan is gone now to reveal a rumpled shirt. His hair — which was carefully styled in the morning — is standing up at weird angles, like Keith has been pulling on it.
Keith was pacing while he spoke on the phone, but whatever the person on the other end said clearly pissed him off.
He threw his phone to the ground and sat on the couch, hands on head, teeth gritted.
Of all the things I might've expected, this wasn't it. Is he mad at me? Is he upset I was gone for so long? Did something happen while I was away?
Did my father do something? Dread pools in my stomach.
"Keith?"
My voice is small and hesitant. I slowly start towards him, unsure of my reception.
He looks up at my voice. His eyes widen. He stands up and rushes towards me.
I step back and close my eyes. I brace myself for the assault that doesn't come.
Two hands land on my shoulders, and before I can comprehend whatever is happening, I'm pulled forward.
I smell the crisp fragrance of fabric softener and the sandalwood and vanilla scent that I've come to associate with Keith. Keith's arms envelop me and pull me close. It's warm. I feel… safe. I open my eyes.
"I'm so sorry." He whispers against my hair.
I'm stunned, but find myself hugging him back.