Mom sent June home ahead of us so she and I could talk privately. Before she could say anything, the feeling I had bottled up inside spilled out. “I really like living here, Mom.” I couldn’t help myself, nearly giving away that I had overheard her conversation with Dan.
“Let’s sit for a few minutes, Anna.” She headed to a thin strip of grass that ran alongside the ditch by the side of the road, and I sat down beside her.
“Anna, I need to talk to you about something. Actually, I need you to trust me on something. As your mother, I expect you to follow my guidance and accept whatever decision I make about your future.” She stared straight ahead while she lightly stroked my arm.
A sickening feeling welled up inside of me. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I felt a knot in my stomach, knowing that her decision to take me back to the hell in Denver was not for my benefit. Her face gave away her worry, despair, and resignation. Her voice was higher pitched than usual, screaming her uncertainty. And yet, I knew she was determined to be a dutiful follower and would do whatever Dan Jordan commanded.
My mind raced in terror. She has made up her mind. But I had made up my mind too. I could not go along with her decision. I nodded my head in compliance and mumbled, “Whatever you say.” I knew better than to share my true feelings with her. More than anything, I just wanted to get away from my mother. I was convinced that she was not herself, but under Dan Jordan’s control. I walked slowly the rest of the way home because my legs were trembling.
When we got there, I fled to my room, my heart pounding. What am I going to do? I knew I needed to come up with a plan quickly. My only hope was to call Lillian.
I stepped out of my room and tiptoed to the cream-colored phone that rested on a little ledge in the hallway. I carried it into the bathroom and dialed Lillian’s number with shaking hands. I knew I was taking a huge risk defying Mom’s decision. We were not raised to voice our opinions or speak of our desires, needs, and longings. We were trained to simply do as we were told.
My heart beat wildly, and the blood pulsed in my ears. Fight-or-flight reactions battled one another, and the adrenaline rush was overwhelming. I felt my face, neck, and chest flush, and I knew if I looked in the mirror, I would find my skin red and splotchy.
“Reliance Appliance, how may I help you?” Lillian’s friendly greeting made my throat begin to close. “Hello?”
I couldn’t get my mouth to formulate words.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
In a strained voice, I finally spoke. “Lillian, this is Anna. I’m really scared. Dan came by and was talking to Mom. She wants us all to go back. But I can’t! I don’t want to move back to Denver.”
I don’t remember much else about our short conversation —as my emotions tugged at me, raw and fierce —but I recall the last two words Lillian uttered.
“Start walking.”
LILLIAN DIDN’T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE. I hung up the phone, feeling renewed hope and a courage I had never experienced before. Suddenly, I had the power to make a choice and change my life. I crept out into the hall and gently placed the phone back on the ledge.
I was thankful that I was already wearing my favorite pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and my two-tone brown Nike tennis shoes, both of which I had paid for with my own hard-earned money. I wouldn’t have to take valuable time to change clothes. After all, I didn’t want to take a chance that Mom or anyone else would try to stop me. I knew in my head and my heart that if I didn’t leave today, if I didn’t flee right at that moment, I might never be able to get away.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I glanced around the kitchen one last time. Several fresh loaves of bread on the counter sat ready to be toasted. I swallowed hard and purposefully didn’t let myself get caught up in the emotion of my decision. I crossed the living room knowing I was leaving the home that had given me the most positive memories of my life thus far.
I opened the front door, then the screen door. I hoped Mom or Sean wouldn’t hear the loud creak of the hinge on the screen door. I passed by the used appliances we had for sale under the carport and made my way to the road. Once there, I glanced back only briefly to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I walked down the sidewalk without hesitation. I didn’t know what Lillian’s plan was, but I knew how to get to her house, and I knew I could make it on foot, even if it were a hundred miles away. Though tears threatened, I choked them back, turned left, and started walking in the direction of Mark and Lillian’s home on Campbell Road.
My whole body was electrified and alert. Still, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder every few moments, wondering if someone was coming after me. I stayed on a constant lookout for someplace along the road that I could quickly dart to and hide, in case I saw a car I recognized —one of my family members driving to pick up an appliance or, worse, Mom searching for me. I was deathly afraid that I might not make it to Lillian’s house before someone intercepted me.
We had traveled this route so many times that I knew I was going the right way. I recognized familiar landmarks and buildings that were helpful, but they also worked against me. This was the same route that many other drivers in our family used daily for the appliance business. Someone could easily spot me and report my whereabouts to my mother. Or worse, pick me up and drag me home against my will.
I pictured Mom at home, looking for me. I could hear her asking, “Have you seen Anna?” I imagined her conversation with Celia when they figured out I wasn’t there. How would Mom react? She’ll probably be shocked or bewildered at first, which will quickly give way to worry. Her anxiety would soon shift to action, and Mom would probably hop in the station wagon and crisscross Houston to find me. I could imagine her gripping the steering wheel, driving to my friends’ houses searching for me. My breath caught in my throat at the thought. I didn’t want to put her through that; I really didn’t.
I considered all these feelings, all the variables, and felt the weight of them in my gut. But I simply could not face working in that dingy warehouse and being under Dan Jordan’s control for one more day. I’d worked for the benefit of others my entire life. I’d never experienced a day without oppression. Even though I was only thirteen, something deep inside me knew that was wrong and had to change.