“Enjoy the drive,” she said. “Seattle’s a beautiful city in the evening.”
I pulled a blanket over her shoulders, snuck upstairs to grab my jacket, and then hit the road. I’d been so busy tracking down work and getting settled in the city, I hadn’t really taken the time to just explore. Instinctively, I started tracing over my old routes and cruising by the spots where I spent my youth. I avoided the apartments where my mom had lived, knowing that would be too much to handle, but as I made my way across town, I was glad to see some good memories coming back with the old.
If only I had met Mars back hereand had him in my life during those years,I thought.I might never have had to leave.
I pulled off at a gas station on a quiet street. It was dark out, but the streetlights cast a gray glow over everything. I stuck the nozzle in my tank and flipped it on, then leaned back against the car and appreciated the cool breeze on my skin.
I considered Grace’s advice again. Mars had moved across the country with me. Maybe I should ask him to be a little more present around the apartment and help out with her? I knew he was capable of it, and I knew that sometimes he wanted to contribute more, even though I always insisted he keep doing just what he wanted to do. It was a habit formed all those years ago, when a scared kid, still halfway in the closet, wandered into my life, and I decided it was my job to make sure he was happy in ways I could never quite be myself.
But maybe it was time to change things up. We were in a new chapter of our lives, after all, and it’s not like Mars could go on scraping by forever.
The gas clicked to tell me the tank was full, and I returned the nozzle to the pump. My head cleared, I was ready to return home and fall asleep. That’s when another car pulled up next to me, a small red hybrid. The door opened, and a cute-looking guy in glasses stepped out.
Something about him seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I kept staring, even though I knew it was rude, but I felt an electric kind of pull that I couldn’t ignore.
The guy turned to me. He had a navy-blue jacket over a bright T-shirt, and his face scrunched up, confused, as we stared at each other.
And then it hit me.
It was Clark.
The guy I had bullied all of those years ago. The kid I had tormented, making him take all the shame and violence I felt inside but hadn’t learned how to deal with yet. My gut twisted into a knot, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
“Oh my god,” he said, his voice like a sharp whisper. “It’s you.”
“Clark…” was all I managed to say in response.
And then he jumped back in his car and sped away.
