Abigail pulled up the straps of her designer dressed and appraised her appearance in the mirror. The white gown with black embroidery looked as expensive as its price tag deserved. She touched a lock of her shiny brown hair and set it back in place.
Perfect
Her brown eyes were ringed with black and her plump lips were tastefully shiny. She clasped an expensive bangle on her wrist and appraised her face. There. She looked like a confident, capable woman.
“You can see your stomach flab in that,” a voice said from the door. She whipped her head to the side and watched Paul canter toward her. “You should wear something else.”
Abigail studied her reflection again and frowned when she noticed the pucker of belly through the material of the dress. “You’re right.
I’ll wear another one.” She ran to her closet and pulled out the second dress that had lost to the first.
“Why are you trying so hard?” Paul yelled as she changed in the bathroom. “Don’t your people wear T-shirts and shorts all day?”
His ignorance caused her to roll her eyes. Whether it was the magic of leaving this place or the thought of seeing her old friends again, Abigail was feeling more like her eighteen-year-old self.
“‘My people’ wear all kinds of clothes, Paul,” she muttered. Silence filled the room and Abigail stiffened, afraid that Paul had heard her under-the-breath comment.
At last, he spoke. “I have to go back to the office. Can you make the plane without me? I still have more things to wrap up here.”
“Of course,” she said and then she paused, wondering if the glee at the prospect of exploring her home unaccompanied had seeped into her voice. Her hands trembled as Paul’s footsteps, determined and steady, grew louder and louder. The bathroom door burst open and he marched in. She cowered, afraid of what he might do.
“Paul… you promised…” Her words cut off when he grabbed her hair and pulled her in for a hard kiss. He hadn’t meant the move to be romantic and as pain ricocheted through her scalp, she whimpered.
When he was done, he shoved her away, still holding on to her hair. “Don’t look at any other man while you’re there,” he said.
She nodded and only then did he let her hair go. Tears sprung to her eyes, but the pain only served to remind her of her foolishness.
She’d had ample chances to leave and she was still here.
Abigail knew what she’d signed up for.
Paul left and she ran her fingers through her straight hair, trying to soothe the frizz that his rough handling had created. She brushed the area beneath her eyes to clean any mascara smudges and zipped up the red dress.
There. No signs of Paul’s manhandling lingered. She could smile—Abigail bared her teeth to the glass as proof. She could laugh—a
dry cackle fled her throat. She could walk with her head high—Abigail strutted out of the house and headed to the airport.
THE SUN WELCOMED HER with open arms, sending slivers of light to warm her head and her heart. A gentle breeze whipped her hair against her face before moving on to shake the leaves of the coconut trees. The sea was a glorious mass of blue ripples restrained by large rocks and a cement wall.
She was home and everything was as colorful, as joyful, and as alive as she remembered it. No big city in America could compare.
Abigail strode down Marine Parade, stopping every so often to throw her arms to the sky and inhale a deep, salty breath. She was free, at least for a time. This Caribbean paradise was her sandbox and she wanted to enjoy every second of it.
“Miss, are you alright?” A lady with deep wrinkles in her mahogany brown skin touched Abigail’s shoulder. She had kind eyes and
Abigail barely restrained herself from bending over to hug the woman. “I’m fine,” she said. “For the first time in a long time, I’m alright.” The woman eyed her warily and then shrugged and walked off.
That was another thing Abigail loved about Belize. The people were warm and friendly. Here a complete stranger had reached out to check if the crazy young lady was okay. Incredible!
Abigail laughed as she completed her tour of Marine Parade. Her stomach grumbled and she glanced at her phone, realizing it was lunch time. Strangely, her appetite had instantly merged with the Belizean time zone.
Changing directions, Abigail headed away from the fancy restaurants on the sea side to the small, open aired vendors filling the Battlefield Park. Their colorful stalls were lined up like brightly hued soldiers. Tiny blackboards with the scrawled menu welcomed customers to dine.
It had been such a long time since Abigail had eaten rice and beans, stewed chicken, and coleslaw. She darted to the first shop on the way and ordered the biggest plate they had.
“That will be ten dollars, ma’am,” the cook said, reaching her hand out through the window. Abigail set the money in her palm and grasped the container of food, inhaling the fragrance like a woman possessed.
She found a seat at an abandoned picnic bench and opened up the container. The hallelujah chorus blasted in her ear and her heart sped up at the sight of the soft rice and beans and meticulously stewed chicken.
Abigail prepared to dive in when Paul’s voice rang through her mind like unwanted lyrics from a sad song. A man proposes to a girl and she suddenly loses all incentive to look good for him Didn’t I tell you to work out more?
You’re getting fat
Her hands tightened around the plastic fork. How could he control her from here? How could he know? She forced herself to shovel rice into her mouth and promptly spit it back out. Paul’s presence was here, even if his body wasn’t. She couldn’t do it.
Feeling like she’d lost a precious friend, Abigail dumped the food into the trash and headed for the exit of the park. The day that was once bright and hopeful had become depressing and heavy.
The sun that had shined so kindly on her, now felt like heated daggers against her skin. The wind tore her hair from its clip and the strands whipped her cheeks. The sea bashed against the wall, trying to get her, trying to wash her away with the tide.
Abigail covered her arms and tried to get away when she bumped into someone entering the park. Keeping her head down, she apologized. “I’m so sorry.” “No problem.”
The familiar voice prompted Abigail to lift her head and she fell smack dab into Ida Park’s wide, brown eyes.
“Abigail?” Ida clutched her arms and held her in place so that she could spear her with an appraising gaze. “Is that really you?”
Abigail froze, wondering if she should run away. Though she’d longed to see Ida and the gang again, she’d intended on doing so from the shadows, where they would be blissfully unaware of her surveillance.
She’d fallen so far from the girl she used to be and if the woman she had become showed up before Mateo now, his memory of her strength and courage would be replaced by the image of her sniveling weakness.
“Abigail! It is you!” Ida yelled. The short woman pulled her in for a hug and squeezed her so tight, Abigail nearly lost her breath. “Oh!
Everyone will be so excited! Where are you staying? How long are you here for? Why didn’t you return any of my emails?”
Her head spun as Ida shot question after question without stopping to take a breath. She kept her hold on Abigail’s arms and turned her head to look behind her.
“Parker and the kids will be so excited to meet you. I told you, right? We had three kids after Santi and Mateo?” Abigail hadn’t allowed herself to read the e-mails and was genuinely surprised and happy for Ida and Parker.
“Park! Park!” A shout rang behind them and Abigail narrowly held her balance as a little boy with caramel colored skin and downy, black hair threw himself against Ida’s legs.
“Whoa!” A tall, broad-shouldered, Asian man approached them with a little girl in his arms. “Abigail, it’s good to see you!”
“Hello, Parker.”
“Right!” Ida clapped her hands. Her curly hair bounced with the movement. “Let me introduce you. That one—” she pointed to the boy that had run into her, “is Micah. He’s nine. The one running after him is Jonathan. He’s seven. And this little sweetheart,” she cooed to the girl in Parker’s arms, “is Sonny.”
“Wow, they’re all so beautiful,” Abigail said and she meant it.
“Thanks.” Ida hooked her elbow through Abigail’s and steered her toward the benches closer to the swing set. “I have so much to ask you!”
“I really have to go…”
But Ida was having none of it and Abigail found herself being pulled along by the strength and the warmth of the woman with the curly hair and the bright, sparkling eyes.