Page 28 of Healed

They passed our car, each of them blasting their horns as they passed us in the car, yelling well-wishes to Vienna—who was, of course, in his absolute element. He was leaning his hand out of the window like a Victorian widow, coughing like he was seconds away from succumbing to the plague.

And then, before I was ready, before I had plucked up the courage to get back inside and drive Vienna home, the chaos calmed down. The Disciples had left. Dante and Rachel slunk off somewhere on his bike. Engines quietened with the distance, and silence settled.

Until it was just us.

And for some reason, I still delayed actually climbing in the car and doing what I’d promised to do.

Instead, I checked the wheels, kicking them and observing whether they were bald or not. I checked the wipers and even popped the hood of the car at one point, leaning over the engine and checking the oil level.

“I think I’m dying here, Sidney,” Vienna called out in his best Stu Macher impression, and I knew the inevitable had come.

I couldn’t delay it any further. I had to get in that car with him.

And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It wasn’t that I wanted to run. It’s just…

For ten years I had avoided him. For ten years, I had driven him away. After ten years of fighting to get back to each other and failing at every turn, I was now driving him home.

It was symbolic, and it hit me harder than I expected.

Because I needed that home to become my home. I needed the sanctuary he had once offered me.

So, with nothing else to do to delay the inevitable, I climbed in the car and put it in reverse. Thankfully not stalling it this time.

“Shall I sing to you? I don’t mean to brag, but I do a mean rendition of I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” I replied, biting my lip to stop from laughing.

“I’d really rather I did,” Vienna grunted, turning onto his side and curling his body until his head was resting between the front two seats. “I’ve been working on the railroad—”

“You can stop now.”

“All the live long day.”

“I insist.”

“I’ve been working on the railroad.”

“Vienna…”

“Just to pass the time away.”

“Please, for the love of God.”

He cleared his throat, deepened it, and then belted: “Can’t you hear the whistle blowing?”

“Fucking hell.”

“Rise up so early in the morn.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on death’s door?”

“Can’t you hear the whistle blowing?”

“I give up.”

“Dinah, blow your horn.”

“Enough!” I snapped, but I was laughing despite myself.