Introduction (The Blackest Years)

“Let’s go over the plan one more time, okay?”

I swallow. Nod.

“Okay” I say.

“You stay on the phone with me till you get in the car and lock the doors. I’ll do a count down from 5. At one start you hang up and start your timer for thirty minutes. When you see me coming start the car and open the door for me. If I don’t come out within thirty minutes, call the cops. Don’t try to find me. Just call the cops and wait in the car, okay? We’re going to be okay. We’ll make it through this Mel. I love you.”

My mom leaned in to hug me. I fit my chin in the hollow next to her neck and closed my eyes while wrapping my arms around her. She is so strong. She always has a plan. Why hadn’t I come to her sooner?

“I love you too, Mom.” I told her.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” she said after a beat.

“Go” she told me.

I turned around and climbed out my dormer window onto the roof of our house and out into the night air. I crossed the short span of space to the old oak whose strong branches came close enough for me to grab. I swung onto a branch and straddled it so I could shimmy back closer to the trunk of the tree. From there it was an easy climb down to the lowest branch. I took my backpack off and dropped it into the grass below me. Then I jumped. I reached down and took my phone out of the front most compartment of the backpack before swinging it onto my shoulders.

I looked up to my Mom who was still illuminated in my window, her hands on the sill. She reached down and pulled out her phone and dialed my number by heart. My phone buzzed in my hand. I hit talk.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“5…” She started to shut the window. I turned and ran for her Camry which was sitting parked on the road.

“4…” I hit the unlock button on her keyless entry.

“3…” I slid into the passenger seat and reached across to the drivers’ side to hit the lock button.

“2…” I looked up to my window. She was closing the curtains, her face disappearing from my view.

“1…” I hung up and set my timer on my phone for thirty minutes. Please god let me not have to call the cops.

The time passed by slowly. I busied myself by running my finger across the seams in my seat. Every once in a while I checked the house for signs of life. All the lights were on downstairs but the curtains were drawn closed. I couldn’t hear any yelling, but then again, the car windows were up. I checked the timer. It had been sixteen minutes. I ran my finger over the seams in the seat again. At twenty six minutes my mother finally appeared in the doorway. I couldn’t see my step-dad, she slammed it shut behind her and marched defiantly across the lawn. I started the car and reached across to throw open the door for her.

She slid into the drivers’ seat without a word and started driving. There was a crease between her eyebrows that wasn’t there before. She was frowning.

“He’s a fucking coward Mel. I promise you: you’ll never have to see that man ever again,” she glanced my way, that same hard expression in her eyes. I instantly believed her. In that moment I knew that my Mom was stronger than Him. He wouldn’t be hurting us anymore. Without a word I turned my attention out my window. It had started one of those slow drizzles the Pacific Northwest was so famous for. I watched the rain puddle and stream across the window. Behind it the city of Portland faded into the distance behind us.