“No, Ella. You’ve gone through something traumatic and you’re still dealing with that. Going off on your own is not wise!” He paces the living room. Motor tracks his movements, like watching a slow and angry tennis match. “It’s dangerous.”
“Dad, it’s an Airbnb,” I say. “There are neighbors close by; there are?—”
“Then book one near here!” he says. “You don’t need to go hours away to write. You told me you can write anywhere.”
“And that was true before, but maybe it isn’t now,” I say. “I know you’re worried, but I need to do this. This weekend made me realize that being on my own is a good thing.”
He stops pacing, and Motor shakes his head, clearly dizzy. My dad puts his hands on his hips. “Take Matilda.”
“Dad, no.”
“Take me!”
“No.”
“I’ll stay on the other side of the house; you won’t even know I’m there.”
I sigh and rub my head. “I have to move on from this sometime. I can’t be scared forever.”
He sits next to me. “Ella, as much as I didn’t like the guy, you watched someone you cared about die in front of you.” I look away. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I wish I could tell him I’ll be safe. I wish I could reassure him that I’m not going to be alone, that the person who can protect me the most will be with me the whole time.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Motor.”
“You’re taking Motor?” he asks, looking at the dog. “Oh, well … I mean, he could stay here.”
“Dad!”
“What? He has a routine!”
I laugh. “You just said you don’t want me to be alone, but you won’t let me take my dog?”
“Ourdog,” he says. “But yeah, of course, you can take him. I’ll just write you out his schedule?—”
“Text it to me, you control freak,” I say, standing up and grabbing my purse.
“Wait, you’re goingnow?”
I’ve sprung it on him, but that’s the only way this will work. I have to get out of the house and on the road before he?—
“Send me the listing, and the address, and the name of the owner, and the?—”
—Before he does that.
“I will,” I say. “But check-in is in a few hours and the owner will be waiting, so I have to go.”
He follows me out the door. “You have your pepper spray?”
“Yes.”
“Gun?”
“Yes.”
“Phone charger? Credit card?”
“Yes, yes. Motor, hop up.” I open the passenger door and Motor jumps in, tail wagging.
