I’m not sure who my parents use for towing these days, but I must get this moved somehow. I send Mom a text, asking her what tow company they’ve used before, but after shaking and freezing in the truck for a few minutes, I still don’t have a response.
I search for Brett’s name on my phone and send him a quick message:
Me:I won’t be at the shop for a bit. Car trouble.
Unlike Mom, Brett replies right away.
Your Teenage Crush:I’m dropping Parker off at school now. Do you need a lift?
Me:I need to get the truck towed. It won’t start.
Your Teenage Crush:Crawley is at the shop. He’ll be okay for a few. I’ll swing by with jumper cables.
Me:It’s fine, really. I can call a tow company.
Your Teenage Crush:Or I can try to jump it, so you don’t have to call the tow company.
Me:I’m not a damsel in distress.
Your Teenage Crush:I know, but it’s okay to be a damsel with a broken truck. Be there soon.
I imagine Brett isthinking I set this up. I might thinkso too if I was him. Though, I can’t fake a dead truck. I hop out of the seat and rush back into the house and into the kitchen, where we have radiant floor heating. I plop down and press my hands into the floor, feeling warmth refill my frozen body.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out, finding Mom calling.
"Hi," I answer.
"I’m so sorry. I didn’t see your text. I was at the bank, switching an account over from your father’s name. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, the truck won’t start."
"Call Tom’s Towing," she says. "That’s who your father uses—used. I won’t be home for about another hour, but they should be able to help you. When I get home, we can handle the rest."
"Brett said he’d stop by to see if he could jump the truck," I say, waiting for a response, which willprobably make me squeeze my eyes closed.
First, I hear the love-filled sigh. "What a sweetheart he is," she says. "Your father would be happy to know Brett is watching out for you."
"Yeah," I say, releasing the painful air from my lungs.
"This is what you need in your life, Melly—a nice man who will be there when you need help."
I lean back against the pantry door. "Mom, I’m not helpless. I’m capable of taking care of myself, as a matter-of-fact."
I hear the engine in her car come to life. "I know, sweetie, but everyone needs someone at some point."
In the past, I might argue her point, but I’ve been trying not to argue with anything Mom says. Emotions are weighing heavily on thin ice between the three of us, so I keep my thoughts to myself. I’m not the type who needs someone to hold my hand and walk me through life. I want a husband and a family, but for the reason of enjoying the second part of my life as I enjoyed the first part while growing up. I want the happiness, fun, and memories—new ones to make of my own. However, watching Mom struggle to pick up the pieces of her broken life now, makes me feel confident I need to have a handle on everything without relying on anyone else. Life can change in an instant. "Okay, well, I’ll let you know if I end up calling a tow truck.”
"Please do. I’ll turn up the volume on my phone in case you need me," she says. "Love you, sweetie. Bye, now."
"Love you too.”
With my thick wool jacket still trying to do the job of warming me up, I lay down flat on the tiled floor, feeling the heat fill my body faster. I used to lay here as a child while Mom was making breakfast. She would tell me I was in the way, and I would stretch my arms and legs out in every direction to make myself more in her way. She would laugh and tiptoe around me, and Dad would walk in to grab his on-the-go breakfast, pretend not to see me, and almost step on me before jumping up as if he was startled to find me on the ground. The joke never got old until I got too old for the joke.
If I close my eyes, I can still see the scene play out in my head, followed by Journey passing through the kitchen, stepping over me with a book in her hand, unfazed by everything around her.
The memories pull me deeper into the past, realizing I can still live through those moments behind the darkness of my closed eyelids.
A hand on my head startles me, and my eyes flash open to the ceiling light above my head. I fell asleep. "Hey, you left your door open," Brett says, staring at down at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
