Page 18 of When We Had Forever
Michael coaxes the Audi to the curb. “Here you go.”
Outside the window, a house awaits, no different than the half-dozen other brick ranch homes on the block. Try as I might, I can’t find a single inviting thing about it.
I turn to him, words bubbling in my throat. I want so badly to wrap protective hands around the secret he’s entrusted me with, but a wall has gone up behind his eyes and that perennial smile has finally failed.
I falter. On the navigation screen, the blue line marking my path has disappeared. There’s nothing to guide me any longer, no arrow telling me which way to go.
“I guess I should get out now,” I hear myself say.
His expression flickers. We stare at one another. Sweat breaks out on the small of my back. The Audi’s clock ticks over to 10:50.
I weigh it all—my relentless need to see the world, the unrest simmering beneath my skin, the way my mother’s grief has always bound me up in a box I didn’t dare break free of.
Now is my chance. I only have to step out of the car.
Michael gives me a thin smile, as if he can read my inner turmoil down to the letter. “Time to wake up,” he says, soft as smoke.
Those simple words tilt the world back into focus. I know if I don’t get out of this Audi right this second, I’ll never make it to Greece.
So I unlatch my seat belt. Climb out. Every movement feels like a battle, but I retrieve my bag and peer down through the still-open door. “Bye, Michael. It definitely was interesting.”
“Bye, Mina. I hope you tell me about Greece someday.” He presses his lips together, as if trying not to say more. But I swear his eyes ask a question.
I hesitate, wishing I could stay and fall into those eyes. I want to put on scuba gear, for god’s sake, and dive into that tropical expanse until I have nothing left to explore.
But if I take his number, email address, anything at all, I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll end up staying right here, the same way I always have.
I’ll never know what the world would have offered me.
“Maybe,” I say, though we both know I have no way to get in touch again. I have his address, but I resolve to delete my picture of his driver’s license at the first opportunity.
As I close the Audi’s door, I wonder if I’ll regret this moment forever. But I don’t turn back. Instead, I march up to Rosalie’s door and ring the bell.
AFTER
Darlene swings open her front door and does a double take. Her snowy eyebrows climb her forehead as she regards the bundle in my arms.
“Hi.” I rearrange my grip on the dog, earning myself a pitiful whine. “I’m so sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but she needs help, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
Darlene adjusts her glasses and beckons me inside. “Bother me? No, no, you just surprised me. Bring her here and let’s see what we’ve got.”
In the living room, I arrange the dog gingerly, aware that any jostling might drive a bone shard deeper. Her sides heave, but the sky-blue carpet provides a decent cushion, at least. “I found her hiding underneath my deck.”
Darlene gets down beside me, somehow still limber, even at eighty-nine. She often says that her second passion in life—teaching aerobics—keeps her youthful, and I’m inclined to believe her.
“Did you see anything outside?” she says. “Another dog that might’ve attacked her, maybe? A bear?”
“No, nothing.”
Darlene squeezes the dog’s legs, prods her belly, pries her teeth apart and squints inside.
A lump grows in my throat. “Is it bad?” Now that our furious dash across town is over, I realize this poor, elderly dog is the first creature I’d spoken to in a week. She might resemble Penny in only the vaguest of ways, but I’d scale mountains for her regardless.
Anything that involves flipping death a giant middle finger.
“Hmm. Doesn’t look like it.” Darlene reaches between the dog’s teeth and works a jagged stick free. Blood stains one end, but the moment it’s out, the dog rolls onto her belly, her tongue lolling out like a banner.
I release a shaky exhale. Damn. Why didn’t I think of that?
