The Beginning of the End, Part 27

Marc had brought enough “party supplies” to keep us going through “tomorrow.” But when the proverbial well ran dry, Kevin and I crashed – hard. It had been an exhausting few days for both of us. Kevin woke up barely in time to make it to his 6:00 pm shift at the casino, and he kissed me goodbye with a worried expression.

“Will you be ok alone?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. He seemed to think it over, then, satisfied, headed out the door.

Truth be told, I was still feeling somewhat anxious. Without a phone in the room, I had no means of communication with the outside world, no way to call for help if I needed it. I got up and checked the lock on the door, then peered out the heavy motel curtains. The parking lot was quiet, and even the traffic on the main street seemed less than usual.

Schmauser jumped up on the bed and gave me a questioning “meow.” I had to laugh as I sat down next to him and allowed my furry friend to rub up against me, purring. It was somewhat comforting having another living thing, albeit a somewhat psychotic cat, with me in the room. It meant I was really not alone. I turned on the tv and turned off my thoughts.

One day blended into the next, with Kevin working and me doing nothing. A little over a week after the attack, Kevin loaded the car to drive me to the airport in the car he had supposedly managed to fix. I laughed in spite of myself as I watched him ease underneath the front end to maneuver the wires that started the car, then wiggle out with a smile of triumph.

“Good as new,” he bragged.

“Oh, yeah,” I said sarcastically. “All the new cars need to be started from underneath.”

“Hey, it’s getting you to the airport, right?” he shot back.

Yes, it was. I was going home for Christmas. Kevin was staying in Reno, and he promised to let me know if Nancy had any news. She knew I would be gone for a week, and told he she didn’t think anything would be going on during the holidays anyway. Nothing had gone on at all, really, but she assured me that this was normal, and that things would probably pick up after I got back. She had informed us that Morcos had been arrested for the assault and was in jail pending a preliminary hearing. She told us that she doubted he would be able to afford the bail, so I should have nothing to worry about.

Yeah, right.

I watched the scenery go by in a blur as we approached the airport. I couldn’t wait to get home. I missed my family, missed the security of a real house, of mom and dad. I even missed my brother. And I was dying to see my little schnoodle Snuffy. The idea of Christmas anywhere but in Chicago seemed preposterous, and apparently my parents agreed. They had arranged for a ticket to be waiting for me, and finally I was on my way.

“Have a great trip, hon. Merry Christmas,” Kevin said.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving him behind. But it was only a week, and Kevin was scheduled to work the holidays anyway. Time-and-a-half, although I knew realistically he would probably spend the extra cash partying while I was gone. I leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and hugged him tightly.

“I love you, Kev,” I whispered into his ear. “And Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Love you too.” We separated, and Kevin handed me my duffel bag. I was traveling light. “I’ll call you on Christmas Eve, promise. Right when I get into work. Six your time, ok?”

“I’ll be waiting. And don’t forget to pick me up next week,” I warned.

He laughed. “No chance.”

I watched him leave and I headed for the gate. I hoped I was able to be convincing enough around the people I loved at home. My stomach churned at the thought of them ever finding out anything about what had been going on in Reno. I was the honor student, the good girl, and I wanted to keep that image intact.

After I boarded the plane and was headed east, I drifted off into a fitful sleep. As excited as I was about going home, I was also nervous as hell. I already knew my parents had plenty of doubts about my life in Reno with Kevin. But I had managed to sugar coat everything to keep them at arm’s length. Easy to do over the phone, even if it was a collect call on a pay phone. But I wasn’t sure if I could keep up the charade in person. After the attack, Kevin was wonderful, sure, but the little girl in me wanted my room, my parents, my dog. I wanted security and safety and my childhood home represented all that.

The plane landed smoothly, and I grabbed my duffel bag and took a deep breath. I followed the line of people up the aisle and out the door, and looked around as I walked into the terminal.

My eyes immediately filled with tears as I saw my parents and my brother standing together waving at me. All the pain and fear and anxiety spilled out uncontrollably in liquid form. My heart felt like it was going to explode from the love I felt for these people, my family.

“Oh, Dasi! Don’t cry!” my mom said, laughing through her own tears as she hugged me.

I tried to catch my breath, but the tears continued to roll as I smiled happily. “I’m just so glad to be home.”

My dad hugged me next. “Yeah, well, I wish you’d stay home,” he growled gently.

I laughed at his not so subtle campaign to keep me out of Reno. We let go and I turned to my baby brother. At over six feet tall, he certainly didn’t look like a baby anymore. “Hey, Bob,” I said, and felt the tears come harder again.

He shifted uncomfortably, as most nineteen year old boys do around overly emotional sisters. “Hey.”

“Well, give me a hug, you,” I said, embracing him tightly.

When the greetings were done and my tears slowed again, everyone started talking at once. I answered their questions as generically as I could, and tried to sound enthusiastic about my new life. They relayed the details of our holiday – who we would see, what we had planned. And mom shared family news and funny anecdotes I had missed while I was gone. This continued in the short jaunt from the airport to the house, and when we pulled up in front, I felt as a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

We all got out, and when dad opened the front door, I was practically knocked over by the pitifully small ball of grey and white fur we called Snuffy. His tail was wagging so furiously, I thought he would fall over from the force.

“Hey, Snuff!” I said, laughing and trying to calm him down.

“Welcome home, Dasi,” my mom said with a smile.

I turned to smile back up at her. But in her eyes I saw questions. I smiled just a little bigger, to try to assure her I was ok, but somehow mothers always know…