sakura
After dinner with Ichika, I took a long drive around Redwood. Mom didn’t have to work late tonight, which meant that she’d probably be home by now. I knew Dad didn’t love being around her by himself, but I couldn’t get myself to go home.
Instead, I drove to the beach, through the slums, and even … into the rich sector.
Down his road.
To his house.
Rain drizzled down upon the windshield. I turned on my windshield wipers and lights, glad that the sky had darkened since I’d left for dinner with Ichika. If anyone saw me here, I would be absolutely screwed.
I wanted to stop myself, to turn back, to drive away. But something kept me there.
The need to see his wife in real life. I wasn’t going to stand in front of his house and peer into his windows or anything, but I wanted to see if she was home with him. Jealousy pooled inside my flesh at the mere thought of her.
What I was doing was wrong. All of it.
Yet I couldn’t stop.
Parking on the side of the road across the street, I turned off my lights and pulled the key out of the ignition.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.
But I wanted to see her because I hoped that it would give me enough courage to stop this.
Enough to convince myself that this was wrong.
No lights were on inside the house. No cars in the driveway.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I should go.
A car approached mine with its left blinker flashing, and I held my breath. Is this her?
Instead of turning into Callan’s driveway, the car slowed down, turned off its blinker, and drove closer to me. My eyes widened as I realized that it wasn’t his wife or any of his ritzy neighbors, but him.
No!
Scrambling to start my car, I shoved the key into the ignition and quickly put the car in drive. I slammed my foot against the accelerator and hoped that he didn’t see me. It was way too dark to see into my car, right? Especially through tinted windows like his.
With his window rolled down, he peered over at me the entire time I drove past him. I wanted to turn away, to stare at the road ahead of me, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking back at him.
Nerves bubbled inside my stomach.
What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have come here! Why am I looking back at him?!
After I passed him, I glanced into the rearview mirror and spotted him turning around in his driveway and now following me. He kept his distance. But when I turned around a corner, he turned. When I drove onto the main road, he followed. And when I parked in front of the Overlook, he parked behind me.
Rain poured. I stared into my rearview mirror. He wouldn’t get out of his car to see me, not in this weather. He wouldn’t come over and ask what I had been doing at his house. He—
He opened his car door and stepped out into the pouring rain without an umbrella, the wet soaking through his dress shirt and making it cling to his muscles. I pressed my thighs together and thanked the Redwood gods that nobody was here tonight.
The Overlook was a popular place for people my age, but after almost drowning years ago in this very ocean, I never thought I’d come here.
Especially not with my Lit professor.