Retaliation

If someone had told her that everything that was hers in the world would have to be boxed up and hauled away in a rental truck in just one night, Molly probably would have thought twice about some of her purchases. As it was, it was well past dawn by the time she got the last box loaded into the truck and it was dusk by the time she unloaded everything and made it back to her new townhouse in a cab after having returned the truck. That was when she stood inside her house, her back to the closed and locked front door, and told herself this was home now. For better or for worse, this was it. 

But it felt so empty. And so quiet. Her iPhone was smashed to pieces five hundred miles away, but she had her laptop in her shoulder bag and set that up on the kitchen counter. There wasn’t internet yet, but she had a fair number of songs on her hard drive, and she had an iTunes playlist that never failed to get her moving or get her smiling. A few clicks later, and her favorite “Gotta Dance!” songs were playing at full blast. 

She could hear them as she moved around the whole house, shifting boxes to the rooms they were meant to be in. Dishes to the kitchen. Clothes to the bedroom. Books to the living room. Cleaning supplies to the bathroom. Sometimes she sang along to the music. Sometimes she danced along. For the first time in her life, there was no one to see her look goofy, so she took full advantage. This was just one of the many benefits of leaving an abusive boyfriend. 

The house hadn’t been lived in for a while, Molly could tell. She’d submitted her rental agreement sight unseen out of desperation. The price and location had been right, and a roof over her head was all she really needed. But even as she unpacked, she knew she’d have to give this place a serious cleaning before she unpacked completely. The windows were filmy. The sinks were rusty. And just about everything else from the crown molding to the laminate floors was covered in a fine layer of dust. 

“ihhtchh! h'tchhh!” Perhaps too much dust. 

Her shoulder bag was still in the kitchen, but when she searched through it, she only found an empty travel pack of tissues; just useless plastic. She didn’t even have a trash can yet to throw it away in. She remembered driving herself to the ER, tissues pressed to her arm, trying not to cry because she knew she was running low on them and needed them to stop the bleeding. She must have gone through even more that night than she’d thought. But the memory made her smile with the knowledge of strength she hadn’t realized she’d possessed. So maybe it all turned out all right in the end, after all. 

“ih-hitchhh!” Except her nose was still tickling now, and she really could use some tissues. 

With the box cutter in hand, she headed to the bathroom and started going through boxes. There had to be a box of tissues in one of them somewhere. She knew she didn’t have important things yet like a shower curtain or a toilet brush, but she was pretty sure she’d packed a box of tissues. 

“hihhh… hihShhh!” 

But it was beginning to look like maybe she hadn’t. The first box turned up nothing. As did the second. And the third. “Sniff! Sniff!” And now she was really starting to need tissues. Honestly, anything would do just now. 

“Hihshhh! Sniff! Hihtchhh! Sniff! Sniff!” 

And that was when her hand closed on something familiar. She didn’t hesitate, just pulled it out of the box and pressed it to her face. 

“h’chmphhh!” 

With a deep breath, she blew her nose following the sneeze, hoping the combination of the two would get all that dust out. Then she looked down at what was in her hands: a red bandanna. 

Horror and shock gripped her. She shouldn’t have this. This was his. She must have packed it by mistake when she’d been tossing things so hurriedly into boxes. 

It wasn’t as though he was going to come after her for stealing one of his more than a dozen bandannas, though. Even he wouldn’t be so crazy. And she had to admit that was a certain kind of power in sneezing into something of his, getting it wet and messy, ruining it. 

She stuck her nose into its folds. Even with her nose tickling and running, she could still smell. And she could smell him on this bandanna. The smell of cheap beer and motor oil overwhelmed the other smells she often associated with him—sweat, blood, sawdust. The longer she had this, the more the smell would fade until he was gone entirely. 

“hih! hih-Ihhshhhh!” 

Or perhaps she would just sneeze into it and then throw it away as if it were nothing at all. That seemed just the thing, actually. Grinning, she blew her nose into the bandanna and crumpled the fabric into her hand. It was large enough to probably last her until she was done unpacking tonight or until she found a box of tissues, whichever came first. Assuming, of course, that the upstairs wasn’t dustier than the downstairs was. 

“hhh… h’shhii!” 

Well, at least it wasn’t silent in her house anymore, even when she was in a room where she couldn’t hear the dance music too clearly.