Thank God for CashApp.
That’s all I can say.
Because who the hell knew a rideshare from Manhattan to Verona would cost more than a kidney?
I had to text Mary mid-escape.
She called me back immediately—freaking out, screaming through the speaker like I’d just told her I joined a cult.
I spilled everything in the back of the Uber, sniffling like a lunatic, snot, and all.
I'm sure the driver got more than she bargained for.
She must’ve, because when the car finally pulls up to my little townhome, the older woman behind the wheel puts the car in park and turns around with watery eyes and a kind smile.
“You take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she says, stepping out of the car to open the door for me.
She’s got wild white hair tucked under a pink beanie and smells like lilacs and mothballs.
“I—thank you,” I murmur, wobbling out on sore legs.
Then she hugs me.
A full-on warm, maternal hug.
And yeah, I cry a little more.
Because I’m tired.
I’m scared.
I feel like my life just exploded in slow motion.
And kindness?It breaks me.
She helps me out of the car, and I barely make it halfway up the walkway before I spot Mary barreling out of my house like a five-foot nothing cannonball.
She’s holding a grocery bag in one hand and a big-ass thermos in the other.
“Oh my God!Look at you!”she cries, dropping the soup bag on my welcome mat so she can get a better look at my face.“You have a bruise on your cheek!Are you okay?What the hell happened?”
I wince at the volume as I dig in my purse for my keys.
“Can we not yell?My head is still doing the percussion section ofStomp.”
“Jesus, you look like you got jumped.”
“Not far off.”
I finally get the key in the lock and shove the door open.
“Thanks again for the money, by the way.I couldn’t get anything to load from my account.It kept giving me an error.”
“Yeah.About that,” Mary says, following me in with a strange look on her face.
My living room smells like home—vanilla candles and last week’s Febreze—and I want to cry again.
God, I missed normal.
