21
Sara
I meet Marsha at a club in the West Loop neighborhood of Chicago. It’s new, trendy, and so loud my ears throb from the music blaring from the speakers. Marsha is already on the dance floor, grinding against two young banker types, so I make my way to the bar and order myself a gin and tonic. I’m hoping the alcohol will soothe the ever-present ball of tension in my stomach.
Any day now. Any day. I’ve been telling myself this for weeks, yet I’m still here, still in this unsettling limbo. Five days ago, Mom walked the entire distance from her bed to the bathroom with only her crutches for assistance, and yet I’m still here, living in my parents’ house with no idea when—or if—Peter is coming back for me.
Could it be? Could the lies I’ve been telling the FBI have turned out to be th
