Chapter Five

We chattered and bantered through the remainder of the afternoon, called out for pizza – as none of us was fit to drive – and slovenly lazed about my new home.

“You know, Sade?” Amy began, “You seriously need a vacation.” She cut her eyes in Carrie’s direction, where Carrie sat harboring an anxious grin.

I looked back and forth between the two of them. “What are you two up to?”

I took a big bite of the greasy pizza and another sip of the wine to wash it down as I eyed the two suspiciously.

“I want to tell her,” Carrie piped up, staring at Amy with a daring gleam in her eyes. Amy nodded. 

“Well you know that little cabin that Amy and Chuck went to this past summer?” Carrie brimmed. I knew where this was going. I couldn’t be angry with them. They had seen the hell I’d been through the past couple of months. I would’ve done the same for them. And they knew I’d never do anything for myself. 

Amy cut in, “Carrie and I knew you’d never do anything for yourself,” she started, reading my thoughts, “So, we went in together and got you a weekend retreat. It’s not much, but at least you can leave all your worries behind and go to the middle of nowhere and…well…regroup.” We all laughed at Amy’s little speech. Regroup. Yeah, I did need to do that. 

Before long it was late, as the sky had pulled its dark blanket over the sun many hours ago. With our buzzes long worn off, Carrie and Amy decided it was time to go home to their families. Amy adamantly hounded me about how she didn’t mind sleeping over if I didn’t want to be alone as I all but shoved her into her car.

“I will be just fine,” I slammed the door to her car and blew her a kiss as I marched back up the gloriously fragrant walkway that led to my front door.

I actually wanted to be alone. 

I picked up around the sofa and tables which were now littered with the aftermath of our little mini-party. It was nice. Cleaning up my house. My house. I walked into the kitchen and ran water in the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher, poured myself another glass of Moscato, and went to the stereo to put on some soft music, keeping it low so it didn’t irritate my ears. I never got to listen to my music in the house when Peter and I were married. My music annoyed Peter. But I did not want to think about Peter. Not now. I held up my hand as if the gesture would physically push the thought out of my head. It seemed to work. 

I strolled to the living room and collapsed on the dime store sofa. It was the most comfortable sofa I’d ever owned. Hell, it was the only sofa that I’d ever owned. The only one that had ever been just mine. It was a vivid shade of red, and the fabric was almost like corduroy. I laid my head back and stared up at the ceiling fan and watched it rotate, its circular movement lulling me. I closed my eyes listening to the quiet hum of the fan and the calm crooning of Norah Jones. I may have dozed for a moment, but a strange sound from outside the window jarred me wide-awake.

It was a slight yet peculiar sound and would’ve been undetectable by most people, but it roused me. It was a sound almost like a bird’s wings but from what I could make out there were footsteps also. Heavy. Much too heavy for a bird. I started to walk over to the opened window that I had left partly open to allow the light breeze of the warm early autumn day to drift in. I could then hear breathing, a heartbeat quickening, but once I reached the window the sound was gone. The azaleas rustled as though something had just beaten a path through them, and in the dim light cast by the lamppost, I could see nothing. I sensed movement above me and heard the slight whoosh of wings. I opened the window farther and stretched my neck out to peer up into the deep darkness of the night sky. If anything had been out there and taken to flight, it had been swallowed up in the blackness of the starless sky.

I shuddered. I couldn’t determine if it was because I’d been spooked a bit by the strangeness I felt at the moment or because the crisp night had turned cooler and the air had chilled me. It was probably a little bit of both. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching me.

Silly. I tried to blow it off just as easily as I had the thought of Peter and his aversion to my music, but I felt it building. I was frightened, and I really didn’t know why. 

I closed the window and turned the lock. I went to check all the doors and windows just to be safe and curled back up on the couch. I would’ve turned the music off and the television on just to deafen the resounding fear that was escalating in me, but I had not yet purchased one. I picked up my drink and took a stiff swallow. What was wrong with me? Scared of a stupid bird! I was getting a bit miffed at myself. Here I was spending my first night in my new home, and I get terrified of a stupid bird. Seriously? I chided myself. All I’d wanted to do was bask in the liberation I’d felt all day; just sit in my living room, drink, listen to good music, and just absorb the newness of this fresh life I was beginning today.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone rang. It was Carrie. She just had a feeling and felt an urge to call. Strange. I assured her I was fine, but it was nice having someone on the phone. A connection to someone outside of the unsettling feelings the noises had set off in me, the unease I was having about being alone. Really alone. Maybe that was all this was. Aloneness. So what if a big bird was outside my window? Images of Sesame Street invaded my mind with the thought, and I laughed out loud. I was going to be fine, I thought to myself as I went to the kitchen, poured yet another glass of Moscato, and walked over to the stereo.

“Ha! Screw you, Peter!” I said to the empty room as I cranked up Norah. I didn’t care if it made my ears bleed. I did it because I could!