The Business Trip

by Jessie Garcia

I could always lie and tell him that I had just gotten up to use the bathroom. If that happened, I was praying that he wouldn’t notice I was wearing jeans.

I had crushed up a pill and put the powder into his beer can. He kept the Ambien in the bathroom cupboard. They came from a buddy on the black market and were extra strong, he told me, more than any doctor would prescribe. These would usually put him out like a light.

Easing one of my shirtsleeves up, I winced looking at the deep bruise with the finger marks that Glenn had created a few nights ago. Our last fight. The one that broke me. He accused me of flirting with guys at the bar, called me a “fucking whore,” and pushed me onto the bed, forcing sex.

oh no i already hate him

What’s wrong? Are you thinking about one of the guys at the bar instead of me? Huh? Don’t fucking lie to me … bitch.”

I had tried twice before to leave him, but he found me, dragging me by the hair, throwing me into his pickup truck, and bringing me back to his trailer.

He didn’t like me to be alone, not even for a Sunday stroll. “Why would you need to go without me?” he would ask. “Aren’t we in love?” He always kept his arm tightly around me the entire time. At first, it felt loving, but as time went on, it morphed into possessiveness.

It went on like this for over a year, me faking that things were normal with Glenn while plotting my escape.

She could care for complete strangers with tenderness, but not show an ounce of TLC for her own daughter.

But the guilt still bothered me so much I had loaned her $500 to help her escape.

The bitch couldn’t be far. She had no money. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t even have a roof over her head. I paid for groceries, gas, heat, water, electricity, everything. She gave me money for household expenses, but she didn’t make shit at the bar. Plus, she didn’t have a car. There was no way she was too far gone.

I was so torn over how I felt about this whole thing. If she found true love, wasn’t that wonderful for my dear friend?

“Bruce, Stephanie has not responded to me all day. I left three messages. I am extremely upset with her. If you hear from her again, even in the form of a text, let me know. And Bruce—let’s not get others involved right now. Keep this between us.”

What if Steph got fired and I was promoted? It was something I had wanted for a long time,

I mean it really be your own

This situation felt off. I vowed to pull Bruce aside the next day and ask him what he thought.

“So she texted me back,” Lucy continued, “as if ‘Mark R.’ was a real person in our newsroom. She told me to reschedule the meeting and then started kind of blowing me off. I don’t know, Bruce, it felt super odd. Like creepy Dateline odd.” “Dateline odd?” I asked. I wasn’t fully following. “Yes,” she said with an urgency in her voice. “Like someone-has-her-phone odd.”

“Something is really wrong here,” said Lucy. “I’m going to just ask her straight up.”

No, not right now. I have to go. He’s coming

“He’s coming” felt like something out of a horror movie.

Robert—he hit me, he hit me hard. I’m scared. I think he’s going to kill me

A blessed day? I couldn’t imagine ever having another one in my life.

To be honest, I was thrilled to have my freedom almost entirely back. Freedom to date, to sleep in when I wanted, to drink as much as I felt like without her checking the recycling bin to see how many beer cans were in it. Screw her. I had bigger things to think about than stupid Katrina or the kids.

what an asshole

The staff could clean up after me. That was their job.

I actually hate him

Think, Jasmine, think. Think, Erica,

How could Raven do this? How could she rat me out? She told me she had my back. She took my money. We had known each other for decades. We were friends. Anger spiraled into my whole chest. I felt like a dragon that could literally spit fire.