Anxiety rolled through my stomach like thunder. “School’s out on Monday and nothing was official with the bartending job, so… Why not, right?”
“We wanted to get going ASAP,” Phoebe said with a grin. This was true for her, but I had a feeling Dex and I agreed on the early departure so we wouldn’t lose our nerve. Every minute between now and eight o’clock tomorrow morning was an opportunity to back out; the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to hunker down and never leave the apartment again.
Arden was looking at me like she knew it. “This is too weird. Do you guys not realize how weird this is?”
“Oh, I am acutely aware,” I said.
“Arden, weird is good,” Phoebe chimed in. “It keeps things exciting. It keeps youalive.”
Arden’s face went soft. When she turned her gaze to me, I knew she understood; she didn’t necessarily agree and she still wasn’t completely on board, but she could see the difference in Phoebe. She knew why I had to do this.
It would’ve been nice if it didn’t takethisto make Phoebe feel alive. I wished I could’ve managed it on my own.
Eight
I didn’t bother setting an alarm. Six-thirty on the dot, Phoebe pounded on my bedroom door, shouting that she’d made coffee and would start taking bags downstairs. I stared at my ceiling in the dark, stomach churning.
What the hell am I doing?
I dragged myself out of bed, the thought following me around the apartment like a ghost. I took a scorching shower, half expecting the question to show up written in steam on the mirror. Skin red and raw, auburn hair stuck to my face, I studied my reflection, waiting for something wrong to jump out. A new tattoo or piercing, horns, anything that might indicate this was a dream.
For months I’d expected to wake up from a nightmare. I wouldn’t hold my breath this time.
Phoebe pranced around the living room dressed in black cutoffs, fishnets, and an oversized Ethel Cain tee. Her happiness made it seem even more like a dream, a sweeter one I wasn’t so keen to wake up from.
Noah and Arden helped take our bags downstairs, and the four of us stood on the sidewalk under the pink sunrise. A chill perfumed the air, thick and sweet.
“I feel like we’re sending you off to college,” Noah said, bleary-eyed in an old hoodie and plaid pajama bottoms. Beside him, Arden stood in a sundress and slippers, eyes red.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“This is emotional!” Arden replied defensively. “You guys are setting forth! Taking steps forward! A new adventure!”
I glanced at Phoebe, wondering if she understood the subliminal message there:Your dad would love this.
Dad lived for adventure, having spent his twenties working the lights for various punk bands, traveling the world. It’s how he met our mother, a singer terrified of commitment who couldn’t stay away from the sweet roadie. He fell hard. Waited for her every time she left him high and dry. Both pregnancies were accidental, but the second one opened her eyes to how much she didn’t want this, and after Phoebe was born, she left permanently, and Dad got a stable job working the lights at a venue in Providence.
I used to ask if he missed adventures.This is an adventure, he’d reply as he gestured to our backyard where Phoebe chased fireflies. It was so corny, but he meant it. He was just as taken with fatherhood as he’d been by foreign countries.
There were only so many ways to express how much you miss someone. I cried into my pillow, sold my childhood home, avoided certain roads; suddenly, this trip felt less like running away and more like a homage. He spent years driving down these roads, seeing these sights. We’d stumbled into the most remarkably appropriate way to celebrate Dad and, hopefully, bring ourselves back to life a little bit.
Phoebe was already buzzing like a live wire. I’d get there.
“So, this is happening,” Noah said, looking between Arden and me. “We are letting this happen?”
She nodded curtly. “We are.”
“Because…?”
“Stop being such a worrywart.” She looped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in. “Vi has everything under control. Right?”
“Always.”
Phoebe’s sharp intake of breath snapped us all to attention as Dex’s car swung around the corner and cruised toward us, pulling into the fire lane.
“You owe me ten bucks,” Phoebe said, casting Noah a smug grin. He rolled his eyes and reached into his hoodie pocket, withdrawing several bills.
“Seriously?” I said. Arden whacked his arm.
