Was he…？
“I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to remember you’re here unless it’s seeing your car,” he stated, still sounding and looking pissed but…
But agreeing! He was agreeing! Maybe!
“You got the month, but you’re out after that,” he stated, holding my gaze the entire time, trying to get his point across that there wasn’t going to be any talking him into staying longer, that I should be grateful he’d agreed to this much.
I nodded. I would take a month if that’s all I had and not cry or pout about it. If it came down to it, it would give me more time to figure out living arrangements. More permanent ones depending on how things went.
I wasn’t getting any younger, and sometimes you just had to choose a path in life and go with it. That was what I wanted. To go and go.
So… I could start worrying about that tomorrow.
I nodded, and then I waited to see if he said something else, but all he did was turn toward the teenager and point him at the stairs. They started to head down in silence, leaving me in the studio apartment.
And maybe I shouldn’t bring more attention to myself, but I couldn’t help it. Just as the only thing visible about the man was the silvery back of his head, I called out, “Thank you! You won’t know I’m here!”
Andddd he stopped walking.
I knew because I could still see just the top part of his head. He didn’t turn around, but he was there, and I almost expected him not to say a word before he exhaled loudly—maybe it was a grunt actually—seemed to shake his head, then called out in what I knew was an annoyed voice because that was something my sort of mother-in-law had mastered, “I better not.”
Rude. But at least he didn’t change his mind! That got tense there for a second.
Finally letting myself exhale, parts of my body I hadn’t known were tensed, relaxed.
I had a month. Maybe I would end up staying longer and maybe I wouldn’t. But I was going to make the fucking best out of it.
Mom, I’m back.
Chapter 2
I checked my phone for about the twentieth time the next day and did what I’d done the other nineteen times after I’d done the same thing.
I set it back down.
There was nothing new—not that I got a whole lot of texts or emails in the first place anymore, but regardless… There was nothing to check in the first place.
As I’d learned last night, the only place I got cell phone reception was standing right by the window beside the table and chairs. I’d figured that out when I’d wandered away and lost the call I’d been in the middle of. It was an adjustment, but no big deal. A few of the smaller towns I’d stayed in had been the same way. My phone picked up one router, with two little bars, but it was password protected. I’d bet it was the family’s home one and figured there was zero chance in hell of me getting that password. But it was all right. Part of me I guess had hoped that it had been a fluke and maybe a cell tower had been down, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
There was nothing I really needed to check. I wanted to look at my phone less anyway. Live my life instead of watching other people live theirs online.
The only message that had come through this morning had been from my aunt. We’d talked for an hour last night. Her text had made me grin.
Aunt Carolina: Go buy bear spray this morning PLEASE
Just in case I’d forgotten the five other times she’d insisted on the same thing during our phone call. She’d gone on and on about bears for at least ten minutes, apparently assuming that they randomly killed people just because. But I tried to take it as she was scared for me and had been nonstop for the last year. She had seen me when I’d moved back in with them, brokenhearted and feeling so lost that no compass in the world could redirect me.
That seemed to be the story of my life: going to my aunt and uncle’s when my world fell apart. But as disastrous as splitting up with someone that I’d thought I’d be with for the rest of my life was, I’d known with my entire heart that nothing held a candle to losing my mom. That helped me keep things in perspective and reminded me of what was important.
I was so lucky to have my aunt and uncle. They had taken me in and treated me like I was theirs. Better, honestly. They had protected me and loved me.
And as if she had read my mind while we’d talked, she had griped, “Leo”—one of my cousins—“came over yesterday and helped me give that thief a one-star review for his new album. We set up your uncle an account and did the same. There were a lot of them too. Heh, heh.”