The urge to be there for her, to hold her as she processes her latest loss of innocence in pursuit of our freedom, itches like a rash, but it’s impossible. I ache to wrap myself around her. To keep her close, safe, comforted, alive, and happy. Somany needs, and the only one I can address, besides with a furious hand on myself in the shower, is the long list of dominoes I’m lining up to make this plan a success. With Jansen out of commission and no way to communicate regularly with Clara and Trips, the plan is already a mess. My task list hasn’t changed, but it does keep getting longer.
I wish Walker felt the same urgency that I do. Instead, he’s forced me to run, swim, and climb this week, as well as eat more vegetables than I could usually stomach. I know it’s misplaced guilt about Jansen coming out sideways, but three vegetarian dinners in one week is a bit much for me.
I also know that he’s right to push me to take care of myself. Being able to adapt to whatever Trips’ dad throws at us is a key component of our plan, and moving my body is part of that.
It just doesn’t feel like a priority when so many other things have fallen off the rails.
So every morning, I remind myself of that one hazy day in the RV, the fan at the open door doing nothing to cool the tin can down, and promise to stay the course.
The crappy laptop I’d gotten wasn’t able to keep up with me that day as I cycled through one site, then the next, blocking every damn one of them I could find. Clara climbed into the metal oven with me, the scent of seawater clinging to her. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, the heat of her barely registering against the heat of the RV.
“My dad,” I said, the anger bright under my skin. “I warned him. You did too.”
She climbed onto my lap, blocking my view of the screen. “RJ,” she said, demanding my attention when it was the last thing I wanted to give her.
I closed my eyes, not knowing what else to do with the panic and rage that lived under my skin, coming out in furious bouts of work squeezed in between the crime lessons Clara had insisted we give each other.
“Tell me what happened.”
I kept my eyes closed, my hands coming to rest on her hips, but I didn’t pull her closer. I wasn’t sure I could right then. “My dad discovered I hadn’t blocked him on online gambling sites.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad. Not yet. But I didn’t check any of their accounts for a few weeks. I figured because he’s been doing so well, I could just leave him be for a bit. Focus on what we have in front of us.”
Her hands came to my cheeks, and I opened my eyes to find her brown gaze meeting mine. “What do you want to do about it?”
“He needs to know I found out.”
“Blocking the sites should be a good sign that you caught him.”
I went to look at the computer, and she blocked my view again. “I should tell him I found out. But there are just so many, Clara. It’s going to take weeks to block all of them, and more pop up every day.”
She’d forced me to look at her. “RJ, why do you think I’ve had you teach all of us the basics? We can help. This isn’t all on your shoulders. Not anymore.”
My breath came in short, angry pants, the need to take control, to do what needed to be done without interference or mistakes almost unbearable. My frustration must have been easy to read because she slid from my lap, moving across the tiny room. “I’m not going to force our help on you, RJ. I already feel like I did that when I unilaterally threatened your dad this winter. But know we’re all here. We all care. And every one of us would love to help.”
She took one step down the stairs, the strum of Jansen’s guitar bouncing in through the open door, but stopped before leaving. “You’re not the only one who struggles to give up control. Not by a long shot. But we all need practice leaning on each other if the plan stands a chance of working out.”
“The plan?” I asked, twisting toward her.
She turned back, her dark eyes a riveting mix of scared and resolute. “Why do you think I want us to learn from each other?”
I’d waited, guessing why, but needing her to tell me, to use me as her sounding board, just like she’d promised months ago.
She stepped back into the RV, closing the door despite the heat. Then she curled up in the seat across from me, tugging on the frayed edge of her jean shorts. “We’re going to have to go back. We all know it, even if none of us wants to say it out loud. But we can’t go back blind and broken. We have to have a plan, and we have to adapt when that plan inevitably fails.”
“You’re trying to teach a group of specialists to be generalists?”
She closed her eyes. “No. That’s impossible. But Trips’ dad knows all our specialties. We can’t come at him straight on.He’ll see us coming. The only way out of this is sideways, RJ. Right?” She blinked them open, asking, terrified that I might say no. Or maybe terrified that I’d say yes. I didn’t know. I still don’t.
But what she said made sense, even as I hated the idea of going back, of the inevitable uncontrolled disaster that would come from that choice. Even if I missed my sisters, Mama’s hugs, and Pops’ laughter. Even if the food here, while good, didn’t taste like home, and the Mountain Dew was non-existent.
She was right.
And I wasn’t looking forward to it.
But she was correct in thinking that we couldn’t come at this straight. Which meant we needed to learn from each other for whatever plan she had in mind to work. “Fine. I’ll send my dad an email, then you all can take turns blocking him.”
