“Let us know if you need help. Me or Ive. All right? Just ask.”
“Look, I’m not a—” She took a deep breath and forced a tight smile.Charity case, she’d almost said. But saying it would have been confirmation. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
The air had changed outside, was significantly colder than when she’d arrived.
Bad timing.
Back in the car, Uma rubbed her hands together in front of the vent and watched Jessie tidy up and turn off lights through the fogged-up front window of the gym. She seemed nice. A potential friend. That thought made her feel guilty, because there was something truly messed up about the way Uma looked at the woman’s husband—that weird attraction she couldn’t seem to control.
7
Rather than sleep parked in the road, Uma pulled the car up the drive that divided Ms. Lloyd’s property from Ivan and Jessie’s. Set between the houses, the driveway disappeared into a forest, which seemed a tiny bit safer than sleeping out where anybody driving by could see. Luckily, she had a scraggly wool plaid in the backseat, but she hadn’t a thing left to eat or a red cent to her name.
The gas gauge was almost on empty, which didn’t bode well, but Uma would make do. She had to.
She left the car off, wrapped up in her threadbare blanket, and closed her eyes against the inky nothingness beyond. Of all nights to sleep out here, tonight took the cake—the unseasonal heat wave had come to an abrupt end, and not even a sliver of moon was left to keep her company.
She should go up to the house and knock again, bang on the door hard enough toforceMs. Lloyd to open up. Who in their right mind left a person to spend the night out in the cold like this?Someone who’s deathly afraid of the outside, that’s who.
After the initial heat of anger wore off, Uma felt a little bit sorry for herself—which was dangerous. Self-pity hadn’t brought her a darn thing thus far. Whenever she let it overtake her, things took a swing for the worse.
Like the time, shortly after she’d left Joey, when she’d turned on her phone to call her mom. She’d been living in a women’s shelter, the first of many, and all she’d wanted was to hear a familiar voice, maybe tell her that she missed her, maybe let out a whiny little “mommy” in the hopes that she’d drop whatever chant she was doing and fly home to take care of her daughter, give her a hug.
It had taken nearly ten minutes for them to find her mother, no doubt at the other end of the ashram, and when she’d finally gotten on the line, Uma had instantly regretted the impulse that had led her to slide the battery back in the phone and call.
“Oh my God, Uma, there you are. Where on earth have you been? How could you let us worry like this?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I had to get someplace safe.”
“Safe? What do you mean, safe? You left home. You took off with no indication of where you’d gone! He saidyou hurt him! He’s had the police out looking for you, Uma Crane!”
“I’m sorry you worried. I’m fine, though, so please ask him to call off the cops.”
“I’m not the one you should apologize to, am I?” Her mom’s voice got higher as she carried on. “You need to hang up right now and call Joey. Call that boy right away. Are you crazy, leaving him like that?”
“No, I’m not going to call Joey.” Uma took a deep breath. “Hehurtme, Mom. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s him.”
“Oh, honey, he’s sorry for the fighting. He wants to make it up to you!”
Uma’s mild irritation curdled into something harsher. Why wouldn’t her mother listen? She never listened.
“You should really take a step back and think about this.” The voice crackled through the line. “You’re messing up the best thing you’ve got going on.”
It was all so familiar, she couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell her own mother what Joey had done to her and then have her minimize her pain. Mom, the peace-loving hippy, was also Mom, the lover of men—except for her father, that is, at the end. No matter what happened between Uma and Joey, it would always be Uma’s fault.
Her mom’s voice softened. “Do you need anything?” She did care, after all, in her own fashion.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Where are you, honey?”
“I can’t tell you that. He’ll come and—”
“Joey’s a good man, Uma. You should give him a call. You can’t leave the poor boy hanging, waiting for you like this. It’s cruel.”
“I’m not calling him, Mom. He hurt me. Badly. I need help.”
