PROLOGUE
1980
Oh God, not again. I’d woken up in full panic mode, my heart racing and the sheets a tangled mess, as I tried to drag myself up out of the familiar nightmare that still had the worst way of sabotaging me. It had been months since Andrea left and I hit rock bottom. When you’re fast asleep and all alone and suddenly you’re sure that something terrible is about to happen but there’s nothing you can do to stop it, you don’t exactly feel rested and ready to greet the day when it’s finally time to rise and shine.
And here I’d thought I’d actually begun to make peace with everything that went wrong. It just goes to show you how guilty consciences have a nasty way of ambushing folks when they least expect it. I wonder if Andrea’s husband has nights like this. Maybe not. Maybe Matt Farleigh actually has pleasant dreams when he finally drifts off, dreams that take him back to the time before everything went south. Boy, what I would give for some peaceful nights like that. So far, no luck.
I can’t wait to get away. Not forever, you know, just for a while, to put some distance between me and memories that are still too raw. Just another couple hundred dollars, and that brand new 1980 Scamp trailer I’ve been saving up for is mine. Then I’m out of here. (Question: How many miles does a person have to travel to leave her past behind?)
The way I’m pinching pennies, I’ll have all the money socked away before you know it, but seriously, the time can’t pass fast enough. Once I’m on my way, I’m gonna try not to think about the house next door, where Matt still sometimes prowls around until 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning. Men never remember to close the curtains once it gets dark; Andrea used to do it like
clockwork. I’d half expected him to pull up stakes and sell the place, but maybe he thinks he doesn’t really deserve a fresh start. Who knows? We don’t talk much, and when we do, both of us make such an obvious effort to avoid certain subjects that it gets pretty awkward. Fortunately, with him working days at the bank and me working the swing shift at the factory, we don’t run into each other all that often. Sometimes, when I do bump into him and he’s looking all lost and miserable, I feel like giving him a good shake and yelling, “What the hell, Matt!” but don’t worry, I’m not about to do anything like that. Yeah, he was stupid and reckless, but how could he have known what was coming down the pike? It’s not like anybody can predict the future. Besides, I’m not exactly Susie Sunshine myself, these days. There are times when I wake up and it hits me all over again and I just want to pull the covers up over my head. Still, I get myself out of bed every day and pretend everything’s normal, even if it feels like the end of the world. Putting one foot in front of the other is one way to keep from losing it. I know it’s dumb, but there’s some part of me that keeps waiting to wake up and discover that it all really was just a bad dream, and nothing’s changed.
