Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
I open it and walk through the threshold. The halls are desolate, as I expected. I have no intention of stopping into the main office to let them know I’m leaving. I’m sure word of the accident has spread, and I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. My sole mission is to hug Blake and Emma and go home, so I head towards the direction of the preschool.
In a school the size of ours, it doesn’t take long to get anywhere. Within a few minutes, I find myself standing outside the kids’ classroom. There is a huge glass window next to the door, and I stand stationary, watching the kids play on the other side. I can’t bring myself to open the door yet, knowing that when I do, their lives will forever change. I will smash the world that they know, and it will never be the same again. I wait, watching their laughter, hanging onto the final moments of their carefree childhood.
Their teachers begin to round up all of the students for naptime; my time to procrastinate has ended. As I enter, I’m immediately greeted by the preschool staff. My coworkers are friendly, but surprised to see me. They must not know.
“I need to pick up Blake and Emma,” I tell them as I sign each child out and gather their backpacks.
“Is everything all right?” they ask. Thankfully, none of them are close enough to see the makeup streaked down my face. I figured that question was coming next; I never miss a day of school, and to be taking the kids as well is completely unorthodox. As much as I knew it was coming, I couldn’t say the words out loud, so instead, I went with denial. “Just not feeling well, so I thought I would just take everyone home.” I don’t bother to elaborate that the reason I feel like my stomach is in my throat, or that my eyes burn with every blink, is because whatever bit of heart I had was put in a blender and pureed about an hour ago.
Both Blake and Emma run to me and attack my legs when they see me, which only makes the lump in my throat more difficult to swallow down. They grab their backpacks from me and ask nothing of the break in our routine until we pull away from the school.
“Where are we going, Momma?” Emma asks. I’m not about to talk about anything until we get home, so I generate the most generic answer I can that won’t prompt more questions.
“Oh, we need to talk about something that couldn’t wait until after school. Besides, I figured you guys wouldn’t mind getting out of nap time,” I say, looking in the rearview mirror. They ask me no more questions and quietly converse in the backseat until we pull down our dirt driveway.
I feel myself relax a bit when I see that there are no other cars parked in front of our house. It probably took Rob holding my mother at gunpoint to keep her away from our house; but whatever he did to accomplish the task that I asked, I’m so appreciative.
As soon as I park, the kids quickly unbuckle. I press the child lock so they can open the car doors on their own and go inside. “Please, go in and sit on Momma and Daddy’s bed,” I tell them, as they burst out of the car.
They rush into the house, but I remain in the car, holding onto the steering wheel, zoned in on the empty spot where Will usually parks his patrol car. I try to think of what to tell them, what the best way to go about telling a child that their father isn’t coming home. I’ve been in their place before, and I don’t know if there are any right words, but there sure as hell are bad ones. There are no do-overs with something like this, and I’m terrified that I’ll screw it up.
Giving up, I open my door and slowly walk inside, where what’s left of my world is waiting for me. I find them sitting patiently on my bed, both dangling their feet off the edge. I kneel down and take both of their shoes off, and then remove my own. I climb on to the bed and motion for them both to join me farther. We sit in a small circle, and I grab each of their tiny hands, rubbing my fingers along their knuckles.
“Guys, something happened today that we need to talk about.”
“Did you quit your job like Aunt Charlotte and Grandma want you to? Is that why we are home early?” Blake asks which brings the first half-hearted smile to my face since I got the news.
“No, little man, I didn’t quit,” I answer, giving him a smirk that doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Your daddy was in a very bad accident today.”
“Are we going to the hospital to see him? Did the doctor fix all his owies so he can come home?” Emma asks. The sweetness of her question makes the growing boulder in my throat painful. It becomes difficult to breathe, and my voice cracks when I try to speak. I have to look away from them to pull my emotions back under control.
“No, baby,” I exhale through the tears. “The accident was too bad, and the doctors couldn’t fix him. Daddy was just hurt too bad, and he went to Heaven.”
Their little faces begin to scrunch as the tears hit their eyes and they comprehend that their father isn’t coming back. When Emma’s first tears hit my pillow, I allow my own tears to fall and wave them into my arms. Both quickly crawl into my lap and bury their faces in my chest.
“I’m so sorry. You know Momma loves you, and we will be okay. We just have to stick together,” I tell them as I lean back against the headboard and begin stroking their hair.
Blake pulls away and looks up at me with tears running down his reddened cheeks. “But he said we were a team and that he was the captain; we would always be our own team. If he’s not here, we won’t be a team anymore.” I see the panic pouring out of him at the idea of our family crumbling, and even though I need to ease that anxiety, I fear the exact same thing.
Cradling them in my arms, I ease down the bed to lay us all down. “Blake, our team is not going to fall apart. We may be changing the line-up, but we will always be a team; we will always be a family.”
They snuggle in farther, and I just let them cry while I rub their backs. There are no words that will make this better. There is nothing I can do to make the hurt go away; it will just take time. We lay together, allowing each other to feel our loss. One by one, we cry ourselves to sleep in the safety of mine and Will’s bed. The lingering smell of his cologne on his pillow surrounds us, and we breathe in the final pieces that we have left of him.
Vivian
It has almost been one year since my world crumbled beneath my feet. One year since my home was ripped away from me. Before Brooks and Will, I had never believed in love, but after them, I now not only believe in love, but I know how badly it can burn you. Brooks took my heart and handed it back to me completely shattered. But Will…he didn’t just tape the pieces back together, he super-glued it, and when he died, he took my patched-up heart with him.
While I grew to love the town that I hated growing up, after Will, it became suffocating. That’s how I referred to life these days, before and after Will. For the brief time that I had him, he made my life and my heart right. Now, my life could never be the same; there was a hole that would never be filled.
I tried going back to work in my same little school, but it became too difficult. My friends would give me their best looks of compassion, but I could tell they just didn’t know what to say. And really, there wasn’t anything they could say to make it better. It was never going to be better again. They treated me like I was a glass doll, and they were all waiting for me to break; too late though, I am already broken.
Life became my childhood all over again. I knew I was the hushed topic of conversation around town. Everyone wondered if I was okay, or what they could do to help the kids and me. For the life of me, I tried to appear all right¸ but God, I just couldn’t face their sad looks of pity any longer. Every time someone would put their arm around me and ask how I was, it was like reliving that day all over again. I knew that they meant well, but I was tired of feeling the pain. I needed a new feeling, even if that meant I felt nothing.
Amanda was the only one to pull off the white gloves and call bullshit. She gave me a week in my jammies after the accident before she hauled my ass to the shower and forced me to get my shit together. My flake of a sister was the strongest I had ever seen her. She helped with funeral arrangements, made sure that Blake and Emma were fed and bathed, and made sure I was functioning. Yep, my little sister yanked the covers off my head and snapped me back to reality.
So when she showed up two weeks ago, I knew I was in for another Amanda intervention, but this time, instead of making sure my hair was combed and my shirt was not inside out, she was going to do a makeover on my entire life. She knew I needed to get on with things, if not for me, for the kids; she knew I needed to leave and start over. So after everything was settled with the courts and the insurance companies, Amanda offered that we move to Denver and find a place together. It was my chance to start fresh; to save Blake and Emma from the childhood that I had.
My days are now filled with my kids. Between all of the settlements and pension, I really don’t need to work, and so I load my days with my kids’ activities. When they are at school, I find it therapeutic to write. I write articles about children, being a single parent, education, book reviews, I blog about everything, and I have started submitting freelance articles to various magazines. Amanda would argue that I’m avoiding life, and that I’m hiding behind my computer. I would call it trying to survive each day when I can barely find enough air to breathe.
“Momma, what are you looking at?” Emma snaps me out of my daydream. I shake my head and take her hands into mine, wiping off some of the dirt she had gotten into on the playground.
“Nothing baby, I’m just thinking.”
“Are you thinking about Daddy?” She asks this often, and I’ve tried to keep his presence in the house, letting them know that even though Will’s not with us, he can still watch us from Heaven and be proud of us. It kills me though, every time I have to answer the question. Blake has been a little quieter about Will; Emma though, she’s four and missed the memo about having a filter.
I lean down and swing her into the air; damn, she’s getting to big too do that. I settle her on my hip and she lets out a little giggle. “Yes, baby, I was thinking about how excited your daddy would be that you are starting preschool at your new school. School starts in about a month; are you getting excited?”
Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and I brush the bits of hair that have fallen out of her braid away from her face. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” I ask, trying to capture her attention.
She looks away from me and quietly responds, “What if I don’t have any friends at my new school? I don’t want to be the new kid.”
I wrap her legs around my waist and sit down on the park bench that overlooks the playground equipment. I place my fingers under her chin to bring her eyes to mine. “Do you remember when we went to the carnival last year, and you were so scared to ride the carousel?”
Her bewildered expression almost has me laughing. “Yes, that horse was huge, and I’m small! If I fell off, I could have broken my arm like Blake did when he fell off the trampoline!” Her eyes are huge, and her hands fly around animatedly as she describes what could have been a tragic life moment for her.
“I remember, but you really wanted to go didn’t you?”
“Yes. Blake told me that he would hold me up so I wouldn’t fall, so I got brave and got in line.”
“We couldn’t get you off that white sparkly horse the rest of the day; what did you name him?
“Stormy. He had magic powers; he made me not afraid and I didn’t even need Blake.” By this point, her smile is huge, and even more of her blonde curls are falling down from her rambunctious story telling.
“You were brave, and you had so much fun that day. Well, baby, that’s how preschool at the new school is going to be. Aunt Amanda went and saw it, and she told me that it looks so fun and the teachers are very nice. I think if you can be brave enough to start the day, you will love it by the end of it.”
She gives me her best thinking-it-over look before exhaling a long sigh, “Ok, Momma, I’ll be brave.”
“Besides, you are one of the coolest chicks I know; all the kids will just love you!” I smile and tickle her as she lets out a loud screech.
Blake hears our laughter and comes running over from the swings. “Quick, Blake, get her! She needs more tickles!”
He hops onto the grass and joins in the fun, helping to playfully attack his little sister. Then I grab him and hold him to the ground to tickle him as well. When our stomachs and cheeks can’t handle any more laughter, we lay back on the grass to catch our breath and look for shapes in the clouds.
It’s moments like these that I really miss Will. My tears of sadness quickly replace my tears of joy. It’s not fair that these great kids won’t know their father, or that he won’t get to share these small but wonderful moments with them. I just hope I can love Emma and Blake enough for both of us.
I pull them both into my arms, kiss their heads, and breathe in their strawberry kiddo shampoo. “I love you guys,” I murmur into their hair. “I know this move is scary, but we are a team, and I know we can do anything if we stick together. I think this will be good for us.”
They both curl into me, snuggling in tight. “Ok, Momma,” Blake says.
“Ya, me too,” Emma adds, “but I don’t want to be on the team; I want to be the cheerleader.”
“Deal,” I chuckle. “Look out, Denver! Here we come.”
Vivian
As I approach the old student union, my nerves are kicking into overdrive, revolting against my stomach to the point of making me dizzy. Tonight is big for me; not only am I about to see Will’s college buddies, who I haven’t seen since the funeral, it is very possible that Brooks will be making an appearance. Jen and Carly talked me into going to our college reunion. At this moment, I feel like I could seriously kill them; I really don’t think I thought this entirely through. Campbell is out of town and couldn’t come; I should have been more creative and come up with an excuse, as well.
Colorado has been having an unusually hot summer, but tonight, there is a slight warm breeze that gives a little relief. However, it did make it difficult to keep the beautiful but short dress Amanda had picked out for me from blowing up and revealing things I definitely do not want on any social media sites. “It will look gorgeous, Viv. Show all those guys that you still got it, and let Brooks suffer for what he lost,” is what she told me. Yep, I’m adding her to the hit list, too.
I swing the front doors open, and I’m immediately greeted by Jen and Carly in the foyer. The entrance looks like somebody bought out the streamer section of Party America and went to town. If it weren’t for the mixed variety of greens and yellows, and of course, the cardboard cutouts of ram heads, I would think the place had gotten toilet-papered.
“Holy crap, whoever was on the decorating committee needs to seriously reevaluate their design skills,” I say as I trudge through the doors, desperately trying to adjust my dress and pat down my windblown hair.
“Hey! I worked hard on this; it took all afternoon!” Carly shouts. My eyes go wide at the realization that I just insulted one of my closest and oldest friends, but then both she and Jen double over in laughter.
I walk closer to them with a deep scowl on my face. “You bitch, that was not funny; I really thought I hurt your feelings.”
Jen puts her arm around me and pulls me into her side, dabbing tears from her eyes. “Lighten up, Viv. That was fucking hilarious; you should have seen your face. I wish I had filmed it.”
“Seriously, you’ve been so worried about tonight; I just thought we could start it off with a little laugh. We should be laughing and dancing all night, just like old times,” Carly adds.
“God, this is stupid. I shouldn’t be here; Amanda stuck me in this Queen Slut-o-rama dress, and I’m scared to face the guys. I’m just going to end up ruining your night; maybe I should just go home.”
Jen covers my mouth with her hand before anything else can fly out of it. “Listen here, girlie. We wouldn’t have talked you into coming if we thought it would be a bad idea. We are going to have a blast because you are here. The guys love you and will not make you feel uncomfortable, and the specific guy you are most worried about, well, if he’s here, he can go fuck himself.” Carly chuckles a little, but my eyes are bulging out of my head at this point; Jen has taken potty mouth to the extreme. “If he gives you trouble, Carly can hold him while I kick him in the balls; it will be a homecoming to remember.”
At this, we all start laughing. Then Jen removes her hand from my mouth and begins fussing with my hair. “And by the way, sweetheart, this dress is smokin’! If I can just manage to tame the birds that have taken up residence in your hair, you will be one hot ticket tonight.”
“I’m not quite sure if you were complimenting me or not, Jen, but right now, I’ll take what I can get,” I sigh as she finishes correcting my apparent mess of a hairstyle.
“There! You are officially a sexy momma. Watch out, CSU alums; we got a cougar on the prowl!”
I brush Jen off, quickly adjust my dress again, and dab some lip-gloss on. “Oh, good God, you did not just say that. I’m going to need some liquor tonight and pronto if this is what is to become of our evening,” I laugh.
Jen leads our pack through the main entrance that opens into the ballroom. There is a dance floor in the center of the room, a bar off to the right, and tables scattered throughout the space. The tacky decorations have filtered in and have attacked every available flat surface available.
The music playing is reminiscent of ten years ago. Damn, I feel old. I told a student last year to check himself before he wrecked himself, and he looked at me like I had lost my mind. And now, here I am, getting ready to bust a move to Crazy In Love. There is no way Jen will allow me to sit on the sidelines tonight, so after a few shots, I will turn myself over to the twerking society, at least for a few hours.
I follow Jen to the bar and order what will be, I’m assuming, my first of many drinks for the night. “I’ll have a margarita on the rocks, please, with extra salt. Jen wants a martini with extra olives and,–” Carly cuts in before I can tell the bartender her regular red wine order, “I’m just going to have water tonight.”
In utter shock that Carly could think that it’s okay that I be pushed into the social limelight while she sits this one out, I immediately call bullshit. “Uh, I’m sorry. I think I just heard you say, ‘I’m glad you’re being a good sport about tonight, but I’m going to stick to a pussy M.O. tonight.’” I turn to Jen. “Is that what you heard too, Jen?”
She just bobs her head in agreement, completely straight-faced; she’s not going to let Carly off the hook either. Good.
After a long sigh, she finally responds. “Fine, but you know I don’t handle my alcohol well, and if Jack has to hold my hair back tonight, he’s going to be pissed,” she resigns.
“We got you covered, girl. Amanda is keeping the kids all night for Viv, Jack can take care of Olivia in the morning, and we had planned on having coffee at A Scone’s Throw in the morning anyway, so we can all just take a taxi and stay at my house tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, letting the last bit hang in the air a little, encouraging Carly to loosen up and have a good time with us.
“Okay,” she steps up to the bar, “I would like a Vodka Tonic with a twist of orange, and to get us started, we need three lemon drops, please.”
She looks back to the two of us. “If we’re going to do this, dammit, we’re going to do it right, and that means loads of vodka.”
That earns a huge smile from both of us. “Well, all right then, let’s get this night rolling!” Jen shouts.
Over the next hour, several familiar faces have made their way to the bar. Some of Will’s old friends stop to give hugs, but nothing awkward. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I was starting to feel all right with the evening.
Seth and Aaron showed up together and insist that we dance with them; neither is any more coordinated than they were ten years ago. Damn, I missed this crew. We are all grown-ups now, with careers, responsibilities, and some of us have kids and spouses, but we are all still friends. Nothing feels like it has changed. Well, that’s not exactly true; our glue is gone. Will is gone. But I can’t put myself back in that state of mind again. Our group just needs to reorganize and move forward; not forget him, but let go of him. That’s what tonight is for us–realizing that we are all different; our group is different, but we are going to be okay.
I let the music take my body over, swaying to every beat that the speaker kicks out. I love the freeing feeling of the moment, but then I notice that Jen has stopped dancing all together. Her face has gone completely white, and her eyes are narrowed and zoned in on a target. My eyes follow her gaze and land on Brooks, making his way through the doors and to the bar.
He looks as handsome as I remember. Scratch that–he fucking looks better. He used to be tall and lean, but he has bulked up over the past decade. His dark hair is messy, but in a stylish, sexy way. At one time, I loved to pull my fingers through it; now I just hate him and every sexy little thing about him, including his fuck-me hair.
Wrapped around his side, sliding her polished hand up his suit jacket, is a statuesque beauty. Her long flowing blonde hair is tapered down to her shoulders, she looks like a model, and together they look like perfection. Typical. Of course Brooks had to bring arm candy, something shiny to show off.
I can only hope that she wants to partake in some dancing for the evening so I can trip her. Yeah right. I could never do that…but Jen would. “Watch out, Barbie,” I mumble, laughing to myself at the thought.
Brooks catches me staring and gives me a slight smile. Well, fuck. There goes being cool and collected for the night. I nonchalantly nod and turn around to the girls. It’s been ten damn years; surely I can be an adult in this situation.
Carly snaps me out of my moment of reverie. “Why don’t we go sit at our table for a minute? I need to get something to drink.” I agree. I need a second to cool off.
“Sure, I’m going to go the bathroom, and then I’ll meet you at our table,” I tell her.
“You want us to come with?” Jen asks.
I just laugh. “Thanks, but I think I can handle wiping myself. Check back in a few years and I might call in the offer.”
“Ha ha, smartass, you know what I mean.”
“I know. I’m good though, thanks,” I say before heading off in the direction of the restrooms. The truth of the matter is that I needed a moment to pull myself together and freshen up without them. I am hoping to repair my weakened confidence. Seeing Brooks’ date tonight has sent my emotions into a tailspin. It just confirms what I always thought–I was never good enough for him. While I wanted the safety that I found in Will, he wanted the shine, and that never would have been me. He needs glimmer, and the only thing sparkly about me is the body glitter lotion that Amanda insisted I wear.
I quickly do my thing in the restroom before Jen calls out the search party, and I head to the bar to buy another round of drinks for everyone. I’m not going to let Brooks’ attendance ruin tonight.
There are very few people at the bar; most had found their way to their various cliques and are now socializing at tables. I take a seat on one of the stools and wait for my turn to order. The bartender is in the middle of blending a mixed drink, so I know it will be a few minutes before I can get his attention. I begin to mindlessly rip up a napkin in front me while I wait; it’s a nervous habit I guess, but it’s better than chewing on my nails like I used to.
I feel a warm body slide up next to mine, but then I hear the smooth, delicious voice that I have been dreading to hear.
“Hey, I’m glad to see you here tonight.”
I tear my eyes away from the pile of paper I have accumulated and meet his stare. Bad choice on my part. Those cornflower eyes feel like they’re searching my soul, and when he smiles, dammit if I don’t just turn to mush right there. He could always do that with a single look, and I hate that I’m still so weak that I let him have that power over me.
Fuck the drinks. Without saying a word, I stand to leave–what feels like my only defense.
He quickly grabs my elbow to stop me. “Please, don’t run; I just wanted to say hi, Red.” He looks down to where he’s touching me, no doubt feeling the current surging between us. “It’s been a long time, and I was hoping that we could at least be civil.”
I let out a heavy sigh, probably the same breath I have been holding since I first heard his voice. “You’re right. It has been a long time, and we’re both adults at a public function, so...” I move to shake his hand. “It was good to see you, too; I hope you enjoy your evening.”
Holy shit, look at me! Not only do I have the big girl panties on, but I’m pretty sure if Jen just saw that extreme act of confidence, she would have pissed hers.
“Since we’re being mature adults this evening, could I please have the next dance?” he asks and smiles brightly. I can tell he’s trying to present himself with his usual cocky demeanor, but I can see some self-doubt in his eyes, fear that I’ll reject him.
I turn my back, but he grabs my hand before I can take a step. “Please,” he whispers. I drop my head, and for a moment, I think of all the pain this man caused. Then I push it away, if only for one dance. After giving him a small nod of my head, he leads me onto the dance floor.
Brooks wraps me up into his arms, arms that used to be the best place in the world, arms that eventually betrayed me. He pulls me close and breathes in my hair like he used to. My stomach begins to flutter, and I don’t want to even think about the carnival ride in my panties. Damn you, vagina! You have betrayed me, too. Traitor.
We move together, perfectly matched to the music. Our bodies join in a cohesive movement, but I can’t let my mind go there. He is the enemy; he shattered me, and given the chance, he would probably do it again.
“So your date looks nice. Girlfriend or plaything?” I ask him, regaining some of my hostility. I know that my comment is below the belt, but does he really think that a dance will change what he did to me? Does he think that ten years will wipe away the memory of his disloyalty?
He disappoints me by not playing into the grudge match I am hoping for. “She’s just an acquaintance. I didn’t want to come here alone, and she volunteered to be my date.”
“I bet she did,” I say with a huff. “I can only imagine the other things she would volunteer to do for you.”
“Are you jealous, Red?”
I look up and narrow my eyes at him, trying not to waver. “Fuck no, I just feel sorry for her.” He tilts his head to the side in his lack of understanding, and I have no problem clarifying for him. “You’re a tornado, Brooks. You slam through women with little regard for what happens to them afterwards, and it’s obvious that she has not been on the tail end of that destruction yet. But at some point, she’ll feel exactly the same as I did once.”
I hold his glare, hoping he feels every bit of what he did to me. Shame fills his eyes, and he lowers his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry for everything, Viv. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, even if it meant not being with me,” he whispers.
“Keep me safe!” I shout, pulling away from him. “How does cheating on me keep me safe?”
His eyes go wide, and then he pulls me to him, tangling me in his arms. “I have nothing to say but I’m sorry; Will was the better man, is the better man. I didn’t deserve you.”
I sigh, “You’re right; Will was the better man, and if he were alive, he would still be the better man, because no matter what the reason, he would never have hurt me the way you did.”
Brooks stiffens and drops his arms from around me; he takes a step back, and I can see tears forming in his eyes. “What do you mean, if he were alive?”
I can barely hear him over the music; his eyes are searching mine, looking for comfort. I know that I’m about to crush him. No matter how it ended, Will was Brooks’ friend in college. For him to not know, and not get the chance to attend the funeral, will hurt him. I lower my head and try to pull together my shaky ragged breaths.
I finally look up and nod. “He died last year in a car accident. We moved to Denver after everything was settled. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you; I just couldn’t, Brooks. You being there would have made it even harder to get through.”
Brooks balls his fists, and I see he is trying desperately to hold together his emotions. “I understand,” he says with a curt nod.
The tears that I had been holding back begin to slide down my cheeks. The last thing I wanted was for Brooks to see me cry, but talking about Will caught me off-guard. I take a deep cleansing breath to regain my poise.
Just when I think that I have my emotions under control, Brooks steps forward, runs his hands into my hair, and leans in cheek-to-cheek. I hear him breathing heavily into my ear, and for a moment, I let myself relax into his comfort. He is letting me collect myself, and I’m giving him the moment to grieve.
“Oh, Clover, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. That one comment snaps me out of the warm abyss of our embrace. I place my hands on his chest and push him away.
“I’m not Clover anymore. I’m not your Clover anymore; you ruined that.” My anguish that has twisted into anger is boiling. The sound of a name that represents my previous life with him has turned my veins to ice. “You don’t ever get to call me that again; you shattered that girl, and I’ll never be her again.”
My hands are shaking with adrenalin, and my tears are now dried streaks on my face. I turn away from him before he can say another word, walk as quickly as I can to my group’s table to collect my purse, and bolt towards the exit.
