“Oh my God, Arabella!” she cries. “Are you okay?”
“Perfectly. I was dehydrated but nothing Gatorade won’t cure.”
“Oh good. I’ve been worried.”
“I, uh, just want you to know that I don’t think this was your fault at all. You can’t be held responsible for the actions of a mad man. Thank you for protecting me like you did. Bart told me about your face. I am so sorry.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He hasn’t left my side since we got here.”
“He’s a good man,” she tells me.
“I gather that,” I reply, blushing hard. “Anyway, they are discharging me. But thank you again and don’t beat yourself up about this. I am fine. We’re both fine. We survived. I’ll see you at school in a couple of weeks, but don’t worry I’ll call you Mrs. O’Neal again.”
“You don’t have to, well maybe in class,” she says, laughing for the first time in days.
“We’re connected now, Brynn. I don’t have any real friends, but I consider you one.” I hug her tightly and shake Brendan’s hand before leaving the room. Bart drives me and my dad home where my mom is waiting for us. Bart goes home, but it’s weird that I miss him already.
As soon as I get home, I take a hot shower and crawl into my soft, clean bed. For the first time in a long time, I cry. Huge, wracking sobs threaten to break me. While I was there, I refused to shed a tear, I didn’t want to be weak, but now… now that I am safe, I can’t help it.
When Brynn and I were taken, I was sixteen and had the world by the balls or so I thought. I can never go back to the girl I was before. She died in that tiny basement, and I don’t know yet who I am, but I’ll never be in that situation again.
ONE
ARABELLA
Present Day
The past two years have been nothing like I thought they would, but how could they be? Things will never be the same again and honestly, I am glad for that. Obviously, do I wish I hadn’t been kidnapped? Of course, but wishes aren’t real. I’ve just left my birthday brunch with Brynn and Brendan. The first thing I did after that is hop in cab to Queens. To Bart. His office is on Queens Boulevard is informal. It’s on the second floor of the building his apartment is in. He has a house on the family compound, but he doesn’t stay there often. Brynn says it’s because he wants to live there with his family one day and I hate that one day I’ll have to watch him with another woman and the kids they have. I pay the cab driver and get out about a block from his building. I stop at the coffee cart on the way and pick us up some coffee. I took extra care this morning when I got dressed. The black lace dress I picked out was chosen with Bart in mind. Who am I kidding? Everything I’ve done for two years has been with Bart in mind.
“Is that you, Tiny Dancer?” Bart asks when I knock his open office door. I don’t even dance anymore, not in public anyway. I lost my passion for it a long time ago.
“How’d you know it was me?” I ask, stepping inside.
“I always know it’s you,” he says, standing. He comes around his desk and wraps me in his arms. God, there is nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, in his arms. Too bad he doesn’t see me as anything but the annoying little girl who hung onto his sister after a traumatic event. I have spent almost every day of the last two years with Brynn. I tried to move on from the incident but after a week of not being able to function, she came to my house and dragged me out of bed. She made me take a shower and eat. She’s my best friend and the sister I never had.
My poor parents tried to help me, but they just couldn’t understand what we’d been through. When I first got home, I thought I’d be okay, but I wasn’t. It took Brynn telling me more about her family for me to realize that shit happens, and you come out the other side stronger or you don’t come out at all. I was alive and the rest of my life was ahead of me. It still is. After I wasn’t in her class anymore, I still had two years of school left, but still I saw her every day. He invited me over on weekends to her place and the holidays at her parent’s place in Queens. My family and hers became one. Our mothers are best friends now and our father’s do criminal things I pretend I don’t know about. Who would have thought that my dorky, buttoned-up dad would have a criminal in him? He used to run a bunch of TV stations, but he sold them all to work with Mr. Vitali. I don’t know exactly what he’s into but he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Mom too.