Final Destinations (cont'd.)
When he got back downstairs, Julie was curled up in a fetal position on the couch, crying. Once again, his protective instincts kicked in. He wondered how he was going to protect her from Joe. No matter how sane the man may have sounded, he was proposing to drug her, which no one could argue was a sane act. After all, men drugged women so they could rape and kill them. It made sense he’d pretend to be her brother rather than her husband, because people are less likely to accuse brothers of beating up sisters than to accuse husbands of beating up wives.
Suddenly, though, Julie sat up and stared hard at him, all resemblance to a pathetic, lost, and needy teenager gone. The rage in her wild-eyed look scared him, despite the fact she was a tiny woman and he a large man. He took a couple of steps back.
“You called him my brother! You called him my brother. That wasn’t your sister on the phone; it was Joe. He told you he was my brother! You believe him now and not me. You’re a liar. I thought you were my fucking friend! You’re not going to help me, are you? You’re going to let him come get me. I hate you! I hate both of you!”
She leapt up and began pounding him on the chest with a strength and fury he never would have believed she could have. Her flailing fists were coming at him so fast it took him a while to grab hold of them and, not as gently as he should have, to force her back down on the couch.
“Stop it, Julie. Stop it! I’m not on Joe’s side (not a lie, he didn’t think). I was just coming down to tell you that if you want to get away, let’s go. Come on. You can trust me (definitely a lie, but Julie was beginning to seem like she did have a few loose screws. Sybil had joined his imagination on that ride across the prairie, bringing along with her a fun-loving colleague, a drug-addicted teenager, and a murderous sister). We’ll go up to the mountains together.”
She struggled and kicked out and screamed, but he held firm, and she eventually (was it really only five minutes?) began to relax. Landon knew absolutely nothing about psychosis. He wondered if one could reason with a psychotic. He loosened his grip a little. She struggled some more, and he tightened it again.
“Listen. Are you going to listen to me? We're going to go away, okay, before Joe has a chance to get here. Pull a few more things out of Laura’s trunk that you can take with you while I go upstairs and pack a bag for myself.”
He reluctantly let go of her wrists, and she followed him back upstairs to the spare bedroom. While she grabbed a few more things from Laura’s trunk, he threw together his own bag, having no idea what he was going to do with her for half an hour, nor how he was going to keep her in the house. All he knew was that he was now desperate for that sedative, all thoughts of Joe being a raping, murderous menace having headed off to some destination other than his prairie now that he’d witnessed what the un-medicated Julie was like.
Then it hit him. He didn’t have to hang around here for half an hour. They didn’t have to drink hot chocolate at his house.
They were on I-4o, headed west. He’d told her they were going to the mountains, and that’s what Julie believed. She’d been calm ever since they'd packed their bags, and he’d managed to convince her he had some friends in Hendersonville they’d call in the morning, see if they could stay there for a few days. Tonight, they’d find a hotel room somewhere nearby. What others would have interpreted as quiet exhaustion on her part he was beginning to interpret as a catatonic state. She hadn't said a word since they’d left his house, but he found this much preferable to scenes and accusations. He wasn't sure he trusted it, though.
“Oh, damn, damn, damn!” he hoped the banging of his hands on the steering wheel were convincing. “I forgot to leave the spare key in the mailbox for the neighbor, so she can feed my cat. We’re gonna have to go back. It won’t take me a second," and he pulled off at the Clemmons exit, turned around, and headed back east.
The cat was as much of a lie as the friends in Hendersonville and his sister’s residence in California had been, but so far, that last one was the only one she’d managed to uncover. He hoped she hadn’t noticed there was no sign in his house that a cat could possibly live there with him. The prescription bottle he found with her name on it in his mailbox wasn’t a lie, but the key he pretended to deposit in its place was. The coffee he was now telling her he needed in order to stay awake until they reached the final destination they never would was another lie. Were all these lies that dissimilar from the lies a woman might tell to convince her co-workers she was married? Were they that dissimilar from the lies a man might tell his co-workers to convince them he was happily settled in a love-filled marriage?
Landon buried these unpleasant thoughts in the recesses of his brain. Otherwise, they might invite others to the party, like those ones with the bright-red warning lights asking him what on earth he was doing. He had no idea what these drugs were, only that they had Julie’s name on them. She could be allergic to them. Joe could have given him something that would kill her. Landon would then be an accomplice to murder if he slipped them into her hot chocolate. No, those thoughts were too scary. He’d witnessed Julie’s instability. He had to trust that the drugs would help her, that Joe really did have her best interests at heart.
(To be continued.)
When he got back downstairs, Julie was curled up in a fetal position on the couch, crying. Once again, his protective instincts kicked in. He wondered how he was going to protect her from Joe. No matter how sane the man may have sounded, he was proposing to drug her, which no one could argue was a sane act. After all, men drugged women so they could rape and kill them. It made sense he’d pretend to be her brother rather than her husband, because people are less likely to accuse brothers of beating up sisters than to accuse husbands of beating up wives.
Suddenly, though, Julie sat up and stared hard at him, all resemblance to a pathetic, lost, and needy teenager gone. The rage in her wild-eyed look scared him, despite the fact she was a tiny woman and he a large man. He took a couple of steps back.
“You called him my brother! You called him my brother. That wasn’t your sister on the phone; it was Joe. He told you he was my brother! You believe him now and not me. You’re a liar. I thought you were my fucking friend! You’re not going to help me, are you? You’re going to let him come get me. I hate you! I hate both of you!”
She leapt up and began pounding him on the chest with a strength and fury he never would have believed she could have. Her flailing fists were coming at him so fast it took him a while to grab hold of them and, not as gently as he should have, to force her back down on the couch.
“Stop it, Julie. Stop it! I’m not on Joe’s side (not a lie, he didn’t think). I was just coming down to tell you that if you want to get away, let’s go. Come on. You can trust me (definitely a lie, but Julie was beginning to seem like she did have a few loose screws. Sybil had joined his imagination on that ride across the prairie, bringing along with her a fun-loving colleague, a drug-addicted teenager, and a murderous sister). We’ll go up to the mountains together.”
She struggled and kicked out and screamed, but he held firm, and she eventually (was it really only five minutes?) began to relax. Landon knew absolutely nothing about psychosis. He wondered if one could reason with a psychotic. He loosened his grip a little. She struggled some more, and he tightened it again.
“Listen. Are you going to listen to me? We're going to go away, okay, before Joe has a chance to get here. Pull a few more things out of Laura’s trunk that you can take with you while I go upstairs and pack a bag for myself.”
He reluctantly let go of her wrists, and she followed him back upstairs to the spare bedroom. While she grabbed a few more things from Laura’s trunk, he threw together his own bag, having no idea what he was going to do with her for half an hour, nor how he was going to keep her in the house. All he knew was that he was now desperate for that sedative, all thoughts of Joe being a raping, murderous menace having headed off to some destination other than his prairie now that he’d witnessed what the un-medicated Julie was like.
Then it hit him. He didn’t have to hang around here for half an hour. They didn’t have to drink hot chocolate at his house.
They were on I-4o, headed west. He’d told her they were going to the mountains, and that’s what Julie believed. She’d been calm ever since they'd packed their bags, and he’d managed to convince her he had some friends in Hendersonville they’d call in the morning, see if they could stay there for a few days. Tonight, they’d find a hotel room somewhere nearby. What others would have interpreted as quiet exhaustion on her part he was beginning to interpret as a catatonic state. She hadn't said a word since they’d left his house, but he found this much preferable to scenes and accusations. He wasn't sure he trusted it, though.
“Oh, damn, damn, damn!” he hoped the banging of his hands on the steering wheel were convincing. “I forgot to leave the spare key in the mailbox for the neighbor, so she can feed my cat. We’re gonna have to go back. It won’t take me a second," and he pulled off at the Clemmons exit, turned around, and headed back east.
The cat was as much of a lie as the friends in Hendersonville and his sister’s residence in California had been, but so far, that last one was the only one she’d managed to uncover. He hoped she hadn’t noticed there was no sign in his house that a cat could possibly live there with him. The prescription bottle he found with her name on it in his mailbox wasn’t a lie, but the key he pretended to deposit in its place was. The coffee he was now telling her he needed in order to stay awake until they reached the final destination they never would was another lie. Were all these lies that dissimilar from the lies a woman might tell to convince her co-workers she was married? Were they that dissimilar from the lies a man might tell his co-workers to convince them he was happily settled in a love-filled marriage?
Landon buried these unpleasant thoughts in the recesses of his brain. Otherwise, they might invite others to the party, like those ones with the bright-red warning lights asking him what on earth he was doing. He had no idea what these drugs were, only that they had Julie’s name on them. She could be allergic to them. Joe could have given him something that would kill her. Landon would then be an accomplice to murder if he slipped them into her hot chocolate. No, those thoughts were too scary. He’d witnessed Julie’s instability. He had to trust that the drugs would help her, that Joe really did have her best interests at heart.
(To be continued.)
posted by Emily Barton at 11:12 AM
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