Episode2
1430 Words
FOUR DAYS LATER, June said, “I need to get out of here, Liv.”
“Why?”
“I just need to hide away for a while,” she began evasively, “to understand what’s going on. Also, I don’t want to put you at risk. The longer I stay here, the more dangerous it is for you. They could be watching you.”
“That’s true,” Olivia sighed. “I’ll help you pack. You can take my clothes.”
June nodded, grateful. She was too scared to return to her apartment.
“I might even give you that sweatshirt you’ve always wanted,” Olivia added with a teasing tilt in her voice.
June smiled in appreciation but couldn’t come up with any witty reply. Her throat was clogged with emotion, caused by the words she hadn’t said in the past forty-eight hours—about her visit to her parents and the reason why she wanted to leave New York.
The next morning, June left with the small duffel bag Olivia had packed for her. She turned down Olivia’s offer to escort her to the train station, scared that her killers were still on the loose.
As she walked, she pulled her hoodie snugly around her face.
She was scared.
Being out in the open reminded her of how defenseless she was. She tried to tell herself that no one would hurt her when there were so many people around, but the thought didn’t comfort her or make her slow down her steps.
The train station smelled like wet concrete and burnt coffee. After the conductor inspected her ticket, June climbed aboard and sat close to the window. There, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, remembering the conversation she’d had with her parents.
Of course, her parents had been shocked when she told them she was pregnant and that she’d almost been killed because of it. But surprisingly, they’d been more taken aback by the news of her pregnancy than by the news of her near brush with death.
“You’re not going to keep it, are you?” her mother had asked her quietly, as if she was asking her why she was still keeping a spoiled carton of milk.
“I am.”
Only then did her mother acknowledge the danger she had been exposed to. “Didn’t it almost cost you your life?” she asked.
June had massaged her temples. Why they all against her keeping the baby. First, Leo. Now, her parents. When she voiced out her thought, their sparsely furnished sitting room became oddly silent.
“You want me to kill my child?” she asked.
They didn’t answer directly. Instead, her father said decisively, “If you’re going to keep that baby, June, you’ll have to do it without our help.”
“What?”
“We wouldn’t be doing so if you’d just made the right decision,” her mother spat.
“And what is that!” June shouted. She looked at her parents then, trying to remember when they had ever helped her when she cried to them for help and when, on the little occasions they had helped, hadn’t waved her dependence on them in her face. She’d thought, for once, that they would be sympathetic towards her, but hadn’t she been told, over and over again, that the only reason why they acted like they were responsible for her was because the foster care system had placed her under their care?
“Fine,” June said, sounding decisive as well. “I didn’t expect much help from you, anyway.”
On her way to the door, she noticed the stack of unopened mails on the table. The “mail” table, her mother called it.
Even though June had moved out of their house two years ago and updated her email address to that of her new apartment, some of her emails, especially those from work, were still sent to her parents’ house. Sometimes, her mother would tell her, quite nastily, to come and pick them.
June bent down to sift through the mail, checking for anyone that was labeled “To June Moore.” She would have to notify her mailing company again about the change of address. This time, she would be serious about it since she wouldn’t be coming back here again.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her father jerk towards her and she looked up. His smile was uneasy. Even her mother was acting uneasy. There was something tense about the way she held herself still in her chair.
June suddenly had a bad feeling, the type she felt when the glass in her bedroom had shattered and landed on her bare skin.
She didn’t find any mail addressed to her name, so she hurriedly left. Something was not right. Her parents looked like they were worried about something.
—
The train finally hissed to a stop. June waited for the passengers in front of her to alight before she grabbed her bag and stepped onto the platform. Above, the signboard, weathered wood with faded blue paint, read: “Welcome to Maple Hollow.”
A black stray cat blinked at her from its hiding spot behind the garbage bin, propelling June to start walking.
Unlike New York, Maple Hollow was quiet, just as she’d expected. The barbing shop still closed at noon, the church still had its crooked bell tower, and the diner still had flickering lights.
Everything was the same as they’d been two years ago when she first came to help Giancarlo Gomez—one of the most stubborn-headed men she’d ever met—curatea private collection.
She saw the Pear Tree Inn, also the same way it had been when she’d first seen it: hiding behind a row of old houses and leaning slightly to one side, as if it had forever lost the ability to stand erect.
“Welcome to the Pear Tree Inn,” a young receptionist sang. “How can we help?”’
“I’d like a room, please.”
She peered at her computer. “For how long?”
June brought out her credit card. “A week.”
She slid June a set of keys. “Room four. Upstairs. Third room on the left.”
“Thanks.”
The room was clean and small. It had a single bed, and a window that overlooked the street. June shut the door behind her, dropped her bag, then flopped on the bed.
She’d been forced to act tough throughout the past months. First, it was because of Clarissa and Alex, then Leo, joined in, with his unexpected refusal to keep his own side of their bargain. Now, her parents’ declaration to withdraw their support if she went ahead to keep the child. It was as if the whole world was against her.
June put her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs.
She’d been cheated. They used her at their own convenience, then discarded her. Alex took her love. Clarissa stole her ideas. And Leo enjoyed a night of pleasure with her, then turned his back on her when she asked him to keep his promise.
In a blind surge of rage, June swore to hurt them back. Starting from Clarissa and Alex, to Leo, then to her parents, whom she would show how independent she could be without them.
And she would attack them from here, free from their watching eyes.
Yes. She moved to Maple Hollow to hide, but she also moved to rebuild her life and career. Olivia had packed some of her painting supplies for her. They weren’t enough, but for now, they would do.
No one in Lés Miserables knew, not even Clarissa, who thought she had all the higher ups wrapped around her dirty little finger, but June had a secret ally on the board. (The grandfather). That was why she came here. To ask for his help. To exert her revenge by providing him with services she had given to him before. By painting.
Suddenly feeling weary, June snuggled onto her pillow. She closed her eyes shut, ready to succumb to sleep when her phone buzzed.
Even without looking at it, she knew it would be a message from Olivia. The two of them had agreed to keep their interactions simple and sparse until they could figure out what was going on.
As she’d guessed, it was a message from Olivia:
“You’re not going to like what I just found.”
- Writer
