It’s all gone.
“Good luck getting to your Sugar Daddy tonight.”
I’m not paying attention. My heart is hollow, but my feet are moving.
“The hell are you doing?”
One after the next, my feet move. Faster. Faster.
“Holy shit, she’s chasing the bus!”
Laughter echoes down the street.
“Kids these days.”
“That’s right, girl! Go get your Sugar Daddy!”
“Wait! Tell him I’m here too!”
The bus disappears, but I don’t stop. It’s not the first time I’ve traveled for miles on foot in torn clothes on an empty stomach.
I can do it again.
For miles, I walk, watching the sky darken. My feet blister and bleed, but I hold onto the hope that soon they’ll turn numb. I know these streets like the back of my hand, and I will not stop moving. The trick is to not look too far ahead. Not focus on how much farther you have to go. You focus on one step at a time, and you will get to your destination.
Always.
That’s what I tell myself anyway. When I cross the street—one more step. When the soles of my feet burn—one more step. When my surroundings blur into strange forms—one more step. When I’m a shaking pile of bones ... one more step. When I feel as absent as a ghost ...
One.
More.
Step.
I barely register the sun is rising by the time I reach the house. All I know is, I made it. I made it to the music. I choke on a sob. I’m going to be okay. Ihaveto be okay.
I’m disconnected from my body as it carries me across the grass. It’s like I’m floating. The earth tilts below me, the sky flips upside down, and I don’t know if my heart is still beating.
The last thing I see is his face. The boy who makes sad music.
He’s leaning over me like an angel. His warm hand slips beneath my neck. He peers into my eyes.
Then, my world fades to black.
My head throbs, my eyelids are glued shut, and the dry ache in my throat feels like I’ve swallowed ashes.
“In my backyard, for heaven’s sake.” It’s a woman’s voice. “Dr. Aguilar just left. Yes, of course. No, no, he said she’ll be fine after some rest and hydration.”
Who? Who will be fine?
“Well, try paging him again. Don’t stop until you get through.” Pause. “I understand perfectly well, Sasha. Maybe it’s time you remember who is hiswife.”
I try to open my eyes, but they don’t budge. My limbs are weighted down, and I feel like I’m lying in the bottom of a well with the echo of darkness and a shrill voice fading in and out.
“What home, David? No one knows who she is. There’s no record of her at all. It’s like she’s a ghost.”
A ghost ...
