I can’t do it. Too much could happen between here and my car. I know all too well all the bad things that could occur.
?
It’s six thirty when Baden texts. Where are you? I’m at the house and you are not.
I’m sitting on a bench just inside the sliding doors. I’ve been here since a kindly manager took my cart and put it back in one of the refrigerators that hold produce.
This came after she observed me make at least five laps around the store, trying to get up the courage to leave. Admittedly, she was suspicious that I was up to no good at first. But when I told her why I was having trouble leaving, she was sympathetic.
She offered to walk me out to my car, and I declined. She offered to have one of the big, burly stock boys walk me out, and I declined that as well.
Neither of them could protect me if something bad happened, and I didn’t want to put them at risk. Besides, I wanted to do it myself and I sat on that bench trying to work up the courage to move.
It never fucking came, and when I realized I was succumbing to cowardice and wasn’t going to be able to do it, I shut down and did nothing but sit there.
I had promised Baden a delicious, aromatic shepherd’s pie for dinner. And yet I’d completely failed in my ability to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I was finally past my irrational fears.
I had become an utter failure.
I stare down at my phone. How to answer Baden?
I suppose with the truth.
I’m at the grocery store.
He replies immediately. Didn’t you leave to go there a couple of hours ago? How many groceries are you getting?
He has no clue. He thinks I’m on a shopping spree when in fact, it took me no more than twenty minutes to get what I needed.
I type back to him. I can’t seem to leave.
I wait for him to make another joke. I’m being vague because I’m too embarrassed to admit I’m terrified.
Instead of texting me, my phone rings. It’s Baden on the caller ID.
My voice is cheery and fake. “Hey… what’s up?”
“You’re scared.” It’s a statement. There’s no guessing.
“No,” I say fervently.
Baden isn’t buying it. “It’s dark, and you have to walk through a parking lot. It’s the same scenario as the night you were attacked. Of course, you’re scared, and that’s okay. Just wait and I’ll be there ASAP.”
“No,” I exclaim. “I can do it. I just need a little more time. I don’t need you coming in to rescue me.”
“I’m not going to come in to rescue you,” he assures me. “You’re going to walk out on your own, but just wait until I get there.”
I try to stop him, but he disconnects. With a sigh, I approach the manager’s desk and ask for my cart from the refrigerator. It’s do-or-die time.
Just as I make it back to the doors, Baden calls. “I’m here, and I can see you,” he says. “I want you to walk out to your car now.”
My gaze roves over the parking lot looking for Baden’s silver rental. He was going to have his car shipped out from Phoenix but decided to just get a new one. We haven’t had time to look yet.
“I don’t see you.” I hate how pathetic I sound.
“I can see you.” His voice is soothing and sure. “Trust me. You’re going to be totally fine, and I am watching over you.”
I can’t locate him, but I trust him when he says he’s out there somewhere. He may have parked farther back past the glow of the lights, or he may be over to the left or the right beyond where I can see.
But I trust him. I know he’s watching, and if something were to happen, he would come and save me.
And that plays into another fear. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Why would you think that?”
“If someone were to jump me and you came running, you could get seriously hurt again.”
“That won’t happen,” Baden says warily, and I hear the frustration in his voice. “I swear it won’t happen, Sophie. No one could have shitty luck like that, and I refuse to live in fear of it. I want you to do the same.”
I feel awful. I’ve wasted so much time letting my weakness inhibit me. More than that, I’ve clearly disappointed Baden.
“Okay,” I reply, disconnecting the call.
Using great effort to motivate my ass out the door, I push the cart and grit my teeth as I exit. I walk quickly to my car, the rubber wheels rattling loudly against the pavement. I don’t look around wondering where Baden is. Once I make it, I quickly put the bags in the trunk and even return the cart to the stall three spaces down in under a minute. I try not to run back to my car but rather look calm and in control.