CHAPTER 1
CECE
I’ve never liked driving,even in the best case scenario, but this is ridiculous. The canyon road is seventeen miles of dark clouds looming over hairpin turns. I’ve driven every single one of them on four hours of sleep and the last sugar-free vanilla latte that I bought with a gift card from my former mother-in-law.
At least Birdie is fast asleep in her car seat. She's been out since before the canyon entrance. I glance in the rearview mirror. Her dark curls are stuck to her forehead and one chubby arm hooks around Flower, her stuffed rabbit.
She looks peaceful. My little girl has no idea where we are or what I did to get us here. That's probably for the best. I blow out a deep breath and catch my own reflection.You're okay. You made it. A fresh start is exciting.
For a moment I almost believed it.
The road opens up and the town appears below me. It’s not hard to see why my sister decided to stay. The place is straight out of a storybook. The whole thing is just a small cluster of lights at the bottom of a box canyon with granite walls rising so high on either side that the town looks cradled. Steam curlsup from somewhere between the buildings. The mountains are black against a sky so full of stars it looks fake.
I want to push through to Evelyn's cabin. In fact, I probably should with the way the sky looks like it’s about to open. But now that I’ve made it my first stop has to be for diapers.
Birdie's been in the same one since the last rest stop four hours ago. She's going to wake up the second I carry her inside. I am not walking into my sister's kitchen unannounced with a toddler who needs changing and nothing clean to change her into.
The general store on Main Street has a neonOPENsign flickering in the window. I pull into the gravel lot and park. For a second I just sit there with my hands at ten and two. The engine ticks in the cold. Main Street is quiet, but there’s a comfort in the silence.
A cruiser is parked two spaces down with its lights off. I clock it the way I clock everything, the full-body scan, the where-are-the-exits routine. My nervous system knows that it’s all on me now.
I check the mirror. Birdie hasn't moved so I try to pull off the impossible and keep her asleep as I ease her out of her car seat. In what can only be described as an act of God, it works.
The store smells like pine cleaner and Birdie doesn’t stir. She’s heavy headed in my arms as I make my way across the store. I get a few friendly nods and more eye contact than I’m used to from shoppers. A radio plays classic Britney in the background. I like that.
Birdie’s drooling down my shoulder when I find the baby aisle. I grab the smallest pack of the right size because I am counting every dollar. Then I grab the little pouch of crackers with the duck on the box too because they are Birdie's and because I need something she'll be happy about when she wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.
The man at the counter is older with a white beard and reading glasses halfway down his nose. I adjust Birdie on my hip and she lets out an adorable snoring sound. The cashier smiles at me then rings me up without making small talk, which I appreciate in a way I don't have the bandwidth to articulate right now.
"Twenty-three forty," he says.
“Thanks.” I slide my card.
It declines and my heart stops.
I hoped it wouldn't but deep down I knew there was a chance it would. These are the things that happen when you're living on one income.I slide it again, slower this time.Please. Please just go through.
Declined.
"Try it as credit," the man says, not unkindly.
My face burns and I feel myself flush with heat. “Right. Thanks.” I hit the button for credit.
Declined.
My throat tightens and goes dry. I reach for my wallet and start counting cash. I don’t know why I bother, I already know what's in there, fourteen dollars and some change. It’s not going to cover it. The whole store seems to quiet around me and my head spins.
"Oh, there must be an issue with the bank. I didn’t tell them I’d be out of state. They take fraud protection seriously which is such a good thing…" My heart flutters as I stand there at the counter with my hand on the back of Birdie’s head and my eyes on the duck-cracker pouch.
I’ve always felt the need to keep Birdie out of daycare but now I need money more.The thought is so loud I almost say it out loud.
For two years I have held that line. Birdie with me. Birdie at home. Birdie not handed to strangers while her mother worksto keep a roof over her head. It was the one thing I refused to negotiate in the divorce, the one thing I clawed back from Greg's lawyer, the one thing I promised myself in the dark on the nights when I couldn't sleep.Not daycare. Not yet. She’s too small.
And now I'm standing in a general store at the bottom of a box canyon with fourteen dollars in cash and a declined credit card. My line is going to have to move because lines move when the ground shifts under them.
"Can I just take the diapers? Or do you know of any coupons?” My voice is steadier than I deserve and I force a bright smile. “You know what, I'll come back after I call my bank, I’m?—"
"I’ve got it."
