Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Wrong number.” I lie. Why am I lying? It’s not like I have anything to hide.
She instantly becomes distracted by the sound of her name being called from somewhere to our left. I look up but don’t recognise the girl who has yelled her name. With a shrug and the thought that I have nothing better to do, I follow Sasha and receive brief introductions, forgetting their names only moments later.
This really isn’t for me anymore. I miss my son. I miss my bed. For Sasha I will try though. She’s done a lot for me; I owe her a good night.
But first I need to wash this stickiness from my hand.
Leaving Sasha with her friends, I head into the toilets and cringe at their lack of soap. Hot water will have to do.
Oh… great, no hot water either.
I pour my drink down the sink and watch as it swirls down the drain. I’ll replace it with a coke when I go back out there. I don’t feel comfortable drinking when I’ll need to start feeding Dillan the day after tomorrow. Having him away from the breast for too long worries me. I’m worried he’ll get used to bottles and won’t be able to latch onto my nipple. That’s something I can’t risk; baby milk isn’t an expense I can afford right now.
Leaving the toilet I head straight to the bar and order myself and Sasha another drink. She drinks fast; she’ll definitely need another. My phone rings as I’m waiting to be served, withheld number again.
“Yes?”
“Dillan just vomited.” Nathan says, sounding slightly concerned. “Is he sick?”
“He’s eleven weeks old; it’s probably just trapped wind.” The barman decides to serve me now, just great. “Coke and a vodka lemonade.”
“You’re not drinking?” Nathan enquires. Although he doesn’t sound interested, I have a feeling he is forcing this neutral tone to his voice to sound indifferent. The fact he’s asked kind of cancels that out though.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“How’s Dillan?” I thought I was dead to him? Meaning that he wouldn’t be interested in me anymore. I shouldn’t exist to him, not that I’m complaining about his calls. I’m actually happy to hear from him. “You said he was sick.”
“We’ll be fine. I just wanted to make sure you were aware. Should I do anything?”
“Give him cool boiled water between feeds.” I respond automatically as I pay for my drinks. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Of course.” he sounds offended that I asked.
“Can you please text me your number?” Before I forget. “It doesn’t feel right knowing you have Dillan and not being able to contact you.”
He blows out a long breath. “Fine.”
“Okay.” pause. “How have you been?”
He remains silent for what seems like minutes but it has in fact only been seconds. “Don’t get drunk, Guinevere.”
“I’m not drinking, Nathan” My tone is soft and laced with amusement.
“Good night.”
“Come on!” Sasha shouts and waves me over. Do I have to? Apparently so…
Yay… not.
Sasha manages to get me to drink two vodka and cranberries, which help me loosen up a tad. Not much, but enough for me to let go of my reservations. After an hour I’m feeling a little woozy from those two glasses alone, so I stop drinking and instead enjoy the animated conversation that flows between Sasha and her friends. I even join in from time to time when I manage to keep up with their drunken ramblings.
This isn’t actually so bad.
When the clock strikes twelve I pull a Cinderella and escape Sasha and her friends. Fortunately I don’t lose my shoe on the way home, although I do pick up a follower.
My mind reels as I hear the light footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder at the male who seems to be walking in the same direction as me. It makes me nervous when people I don’t know walk behind me. Maybe I should stop and wait for him to pass, make it look like I can’t text and walk at the same time.
No, because that will give him time to grab me.
Have I listened to myself recently? I sound ridiculously paranoid.
It’s just… after seeing those recordings of Nathan as a young boy, I now know what the world is truly capable of, and crap you think isn’t going to happen to you does actually happen. Caleb died. That never should have happened, but it did, and Nathan was molested by somebody he clearly loved and someone who should have loved and cherished him.
Knowing my luck I’ll pick up a murderer on my way home.
Damn it.
I pick up the pace. My street is only five minutes away, so I know I’ll be okay as long as I’m quick. The footsteps behind me seem to pick up speed too. Maybe it’s my imagination.
No. I’m not going to write this off as some random happening. That’s how people lose their guard and end up in ditches. Right now I’m going to assume he wants me dead and I’m going to push on.