Okay, so this is a minor setback. An unforeseen obstacle. A tiny roadblock. But it could be worse. It can always be worse.
Watching 128 West Palm Lane from inside my Honda’s dingy interior, I wonder how the hell Mel ended up here, of all places, with that guy of all people? I make it my mission to find out.
Wounded but not defeated, I jam my key in the ignition and turn, intent on finding some sort of motel nearby to spend the night and re-group. The universe must have other ideas for me, though, because instead of starting, the car stalls out with a repetitiveclick click click. I try again with the same result.
“No, no,no. Come on.”
It won’t start.
It won’t fuckingstart.
Which means I’m stuck. Here. In front of my sister’s maybe house with her angry male live-in just inside. I could try to explain my car trouble to him, but I don’t think I can bear to have the door slammed in my face for a second time in one night. There’s only so much a girl can take.
My fingers twitch, and I fight the urge to text Dad to tell him what happened, but he’ll only sayI told you soin that knowing way he always does, and I don’t think I can handle that right now either. Not when I’m in the middle of it.
You get so enthusiastic about things that you make impulsive decisions, Violet. You need to stop and think things through before you dive in headfirst.
And so what if I am just a little bit impulsive? It’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.
Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel, I give in to those dark doubts for the briefest of moments.
Did I make the biggest mistake of my life by coming here?
Some people might call my decision to leave Green Haven impulsive, but in reality, I’ve been plotting my escape since I was twelve. Nothing was the same after my mom died. My sister left. It was just me and Dad. People started talking about our family. The town became suffocating.
I always knew I was going to get out, and though I wanted it to be the day after I graduated from high school, I had to settle for two years after graduation day, when I finally saved up a decent amount of cash waiting tables.
Dad begged me not to go.
Vi, just stay the summer. One more summer. You can leave in the fall.
But I couldn’t. Three more months would turn into six, eight, twelve, and one more year would turn into two, three, forever. I had to leave as soon as I could manage. Otherwise, I’d lose my nerve for good and end up trapped on the small-town hamster wheel, running in circles for the rest of my life, living in regret.
And so, on the two-year anniversary of the day I was (shockingly) handed a diploma, I woke up earlier than I ever have. Belongings packed, car loaded, and destination at the ready, I said goodbye to the town I’d lived in since birth. I’d tried to adjust after my mom died, I swear I had, but the whispers and the gossip clung to me like a regretful perfume, making it impossible. Besides the guilt I felt at leaving my dad, I wasn’t sentimental in the slightest.
There were too many bad years in that town. You couldn’t pay me to go back.
I shove the negative thoughts forcefully from my head. Once I see Mel everything will be fine. We’ll laugh about this big misunderstanding, and she’ll apologize for Angry Dude’s behavior.
Everything will be great.
Better than great.
Fantastic.
The neighborhood seems more than safe, but I lock the door anyway. Reclining the seat back, I grab a sweatshirt from the passenger side and drape it over my body like a makeshift blanket. I really am exhausted, so I shut my eyes and save my problems for the morning, when daylight will bring clarity to what I’m sure is just a big misunderstanding.
Tomorrow will be better.
It has to be.
TWO
Tap.
Tap tap tap.
My eyes snap open, and my body jerks upright. Disoriented and half-asleep, I blink a few times before the events of the previous day and night come rushing back.
