She searched for the bottle of vodka that she always kept handy, but it was empty. Sighing, she drew the curtains and sunlight spilled into the room. Squinting out at the parking lot only confirmed his rig was gone. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Ripping open the cigarette pack, she shook out a cigarette and lit it, then took a long, desperate drag.
She had known it would only be a matter of time until Johnny would decide to leave her. She had been stupid to think he wouldn’t.
Everyone abandoned her at some point.
Her father, when she was just two years old. Her mother, when she was twelve. Then her brother . . . and every other man she’d met over the past nine months since she’d been on the road.
She knew people considered her beautiful. Stunning, even. And it wasn’t just something she’d made up. Everyone said it.
Such a pretty young thing, they’d always say.
People had seemed spellbound with her looks when she was a little girl. But when she turned twelve and started budding breasts, she noticed that her looks began to polarize people.
The stares she got from the men suddenly turned from innocent admiration to something that felt greedy . . . sometimes downright dirty. Women began to see her as a threat, their faces hardening just at the sight of her.
She didn’t understand it because she thought she was far from pretty. Yes, since adolescence, she had learned to cover some of her flaws with makeup, and she was careful to hide most of her bad angles and avoid harsh lighting when possible. But still, it baffled her because when others looked at her, they seemed to see someone completely different than the girl who stared back at her in the mirror. The girl who, when she wasn’t very careful, looked hopelessly grotesque.
Almost like a monster.
The relationship between her and her brother changed, too. He suddenly became aloof, distrusting, distant . . . and wanted nothing to do with her anymore. The harder she tried to be close to him, the more he resisted. And he’d been the only person she had ever truly cared about.
When she was younger he had taken good care of her and comforted her when she needed it. But then, things changed . . . and she’d somehow become the enemy.
She slumped lower in the tattered chair next to the window. Suddenly, she was as lonely and exhausted as she could ever remember being.
Without her brother and without Johnny, there was no point.
CHAPTER 3
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Allie was still slumped over, smoking at the little table in the motel room. The sun was higher in the sky and people were emerging from their own ratty rooms. She watched enviously as families packed SUVs and minivans. Everyone seemed to be heading somewhere this morning.
Everyone but her.
She already missed Johnny. When she was with him, the big knots in her stomach loosened and she managed to pull more air into her lungs. Most nights he even held her in his strong arms. Something no one had ever done.
He had been the only one who had been truly nice to her for a longish period of time. And he’d been honest from the start. He’d said he wasn’t in it for the long haul and one day would have to leave without her. He also said he could never take her home to his family.
And, of course, she knew why. She simply wasn’t good enough.
She had done her best to keep Johnny. When he was around, she was always carefully made up, moisturized, and scented. She worked hard at strategically displaying her body, the only part of herself she was proud of.
She was also careful to always be situated to the right of him, so he could see the better side of her face, and she kept her chin pointing in all the right directions, so he didn’t see her many bad angles.
Even while they slept, she wore a full face of dime-store makeup, so very careful not to expose her natural looks. Looks that often alarmed her. She was careful to present the image of someone she desperately wanted to be . . . an image that he must’ve finally seen through.
She’d also let down her guard lately, something she knew she shouldn’t have done. It first happened one night while she was keeping Johnny company on his usual route, a run from Houston to Bridge Creek, Oklahoma. She was sitting in the passenger side of the rig sucking the jelly out of a donut and sipping a chilled Corona when she drunkenly admitted she was only fifteen. He spit out his Dr Pepper.
“So if you’re from Louisiana and only fifteen, how the hell did you end up way out here?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I hitched rides.”
“At fifteen? My mother barely let me out of her sight at fifteen. Besides, I didn’t know shit back then.”
Allie was beginning to think she didn’t know shit either. Nine months before, she seemed to have more answers. Now, she was more than a little lost . . . and more desperate than ever.
“C’mon, things couldn’t have been that bad at home,” he prodded.
“Yeah, well, they were. Besides, there’s no one left.”
“What do you mean?”
She stared out the window. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, we’re about a hundred miles from our next stop, so I’m pretty sure I have the time. Go ahead. Tell me.”
Allie took a deep breath and then, stupidly, blurted it all out. She told him about her father abandoning the family. About her mother being a prostitute . . . and how she used to dump bodies in the pond behind Allie’s childhood house. About how the woman had abused her brother and how screwed up he’d become. Then, about how her brother killed their mother and ended up taking care of Allie. How he paid the bills and bought the food but then became sick in the head and began hurting people, too.
“Nine months ago he killed himself, and now there’s just me. That’s what I mean when I say I’m all alone.”
Allie’s stomach knotted as she squeezed the last of the words out because as she was telling her story, she’d gotten the sense that she was doing something wrong. As though she were making a huge mistake telling Johnny the truth about where she’d come from. About who she was.
There’s a reason you don’t talk much, Allie. You just remember that, she reminded herself.