“Oh, you’ll miss us leaving,” he frowns.
“I know,” I feign disappointment, “But I promised.”
“Well,” He shrugs, reaching into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash, at least two thousand dollars, and then passes me his credit card. “You’ll need this for when we are away.”
“Thanks,” I swallow down the bile because he isn’t wrong, I will need the money but not this damn much. I keep the cash and card in my hand and accept his hug goodbye and when he’s out of view, I rush the rest of the way to my bedroom, dumping it all onto my vanity.
I’ve no way of earning my own money, my parents would stop me from ever getting a job, even if I went out and just did it, they’d blacklist anyone who tried to give me one and without a college education, who would want me anyway?
Neither of them believed I needed anything more than a high school diploma, even though I begged and pleaded to go. I wanted to major in English, maybe go on to teach but I lost the fight. I’m born to be someone’s wife. Someone’s mother. Born to be pretty and quiet, not smart or successful in my own right.
Closing my eyes, I fight the sting building there and push back the emotion and then I grab a shower, keeping my hair pinned to the top of my head to stop it from getting wet.
I lost my favorite ribbon yesterday at some point and while it’s not a big deal to most people, it is to me. My grandmother gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. She was the only decent human being in my life, and I’ve lost the only thing she gave me.
I have others of course, but none that mean as much.
“It’s just a fucking ribbon,” I growl to myself once I’m out the shower, shaking my head at my own reflection, the curse word feeling foreign on my tongue. I don’t swear often.
Running a hand over my face, I loosen my breath and then begin my skincare routine, choosing to go barefaced today since I don’t plan on leaving the house, even for a second. Neither of my parents will notice if I’ve left or not, nor will they check. Once my skin is cleansed and moisturized, I let my hair out of the claw clip and leave it down and then pad to my bed, climbing into it in just the towel I used after I got out the shower.
Sinclair Motors, South West Rock.I type the words into my search bar on my cell after I pull it off its charger.
The garage is the first one to pop up on the search, listing the opening times, directions and phone number.
It’s open now so I hit the dial button and bring my cell to my ear.
It rings four times before I get an answer.
“Sinclair Motors,” River’s raspy voice greets my ear, “How can I help?”
“River?” I sit up.
“Speaking,” He replies.
“It’s um, it’s Marly,” I stutter out, “I was just calling about my car.”
There’s a beat of silence before he answers, “I said a few days, princess. It’s barely been twenty-four hours.”
A blush warms my cheeks, “Oh, right, of course.”
His chuckle sends goose bumps rising over my skin, “Did you miss me that much, Marly?” He purrs into the line.
“What?” I blurt, “No! I mean, of course not!”
He laughs again, “This the best number to reach you on?”
“Yes,” I swallow.
“How about I call you when it’s ready?”
“Okay,” I breathe.
Silence crackles between us but I know he’s still on the line since I can hear his steady breathing, but he doesn’t speak. This goes on for a while, enough so that my palms begin to get clammy.
“There’s a race tonight,” He eventually says, “Nine PM at the track.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
