Please Don't Forgive Me

“Mommy,” Emma whined, “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” I tried to shush her but she wouldn’t listen.

“Daddy’s at work. He’ll be home soon, okay?” I sighed loudly. I shooed her over to her seat at the table where Morgan was already seated. Addison started screaming from her highchair.

“Mommy, why is Addy crying? Mommy?” All I heard was Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. How did it end up like this? The phone started ringing at the same time as the doorbell. “Mommy, should I answer the door?”

“No. Get the phone, it’s probably Daddy,” I sighed untying my apron and walking toward the door. “One second.” I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair—I was a mess.

“Flower delivery for a Miss. Anika Albert?” the man asked as I pulled the door open.

“Oh,” I smiled, “I guess that’s me.” I hadn’t used the last name Albert in a few years. I was now Anika Nickelsen.

“Sign,” he said dully. I thanked him and took the flowers into the living room.

“Mommy!” Emma yelled.

“What sweetie?” I asked softly. I pulled the card out of the flowers. There was no name on the bottom of the card.

“There’s someone looking for you.” I sighed and took the phone out of her hand. “He sounds scary,” she whispered. I shooed her back into the kitchen.

“Hello?” I asked, reading the card over and over again.

“Did you get my flowers?” I hung up the phone and dropped the card. I should have known. The boquet of yellow roses should have given it away. I let out a loud scream and ran into the kitchen turning off the stove and shoving the kids into their room.

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Morgan asked as Emma cowered in the corner.

“We’re just going to go visit Daddy, okay?” He jumped up and down smiling. “So I need you guys to put some clothes in a bag, okay? I’ll help you in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he mumbled. I sat Addison down on the floor and ran to the other bedroom to pack my own things.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed the familiar number. “Hello? Anika, we’re about to go on, I can’t really talk right now.” I inhaled sharply.

“What city are you in?” I asked frightened.

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are the kids okay? Is the baby okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Garrett,” I cried, “Garrett, he’s back.”

“We’re in Boston. We’ll wait here for you guys. Okay?” I replied with a weak ‘yes’ and pulled my duffel out of the closet. “Ani, listen to me. Everything will be okay.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I know. We’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I threw a few pairs of jeans, a few tops, some socks and some underwear into the worn out bag that I hadn’t used since the last time I went on tour with the guys. I threw my old pair of Converse in and zipped the main compartment shut. I grabbed my toothbrush and threw it in another compartment. Shampoo, conditioner and soap I could buy in Boston. Right now I just needed the essentials.

“Mommy, what do we need?” Morgan asked softly. “Anything warm, it’s getting cold up there. Here, let me help.” I grabbed his sneakers, a few pairs of pants, his long sleeved tops and a few sweatshirts and threw them in his small suitcase that had never been used. I grabbed his robe and pajamas and added them to my bag because they wouldn’t fit in his. I did the same for Emma and then grabbed a handful of Addison’s clothes and a package of wipes and diapers. I grabbed a few snack packs out of the cabinet and a bottle from the fridge and managed to get everyone out of the overcrowded apartment.

“Mrs. Nickelsen?” a neighbor called as I tried to shove the kids into the backseat of a taxi. “Mrs. Nickelsen someone has been knocking on your door for the last five minutes. What would you like me to tell him?”

“Don’t tell him anything.” I swallowed hard and climbed into the cab. “If he asks, tell him I don’t live there anymore.” She nodded, taking note of my uneasiness, and walked away.

“Mommy,” Emma said quietly. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong sweetie. Nothing’s wrong.”

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“One way to Boston,” I said out of breath at the counter in the airport. “One adult, two children under 7 and one infant under two; she’ll sit on my lap.”

“Our next flight leaves in twenty minutes. It’s cutting it close, but it’s a direct flight.” I nodded my head in acceptance and handed her my credit card.

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We had made it through security and onto the plane. I don’t know how, and I never will. All I know was that finally reaching my seat on the plane, finally getting Emma and Morgan comfortable and finally getting Addison to sleep felt like heaven. In five hours I would be safe. In five hours I would be as far away from that note as possible. Reading, ‘I’m back,’ over and over again wouldn’t be quite so terrifying. In five hours I would be in Boston with Garrett.