Chapter 3 #4
“So will I,” Oliver says quickly. “And I’m right downstairs.”
I look at him. “You sleep with your phone on?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Just for tonight,” he says.
“Stop being nice.”
“I’m not.”
Marley stands, leaning down to hug me. I grip her tightly before letting go.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you too.”
“We’re going to make a plan tomorrow, okay?”
I nod.
“And we will not make any permanent decisions while actively traumatized, right?”
I nod again with a laugh.
“And if Grant contacts you, you text me instead.”
“Okay.”
“And if you feel like going to Florida, you tell us and then check your gas.”
Oliver points at her. “Thank you.”
Marley kisses the top of my head and heads for the stairs.
Oliver lingers, waiting for Marley to be out of earshot before speaking. “You did good today.”
I laugh once. “No, I didn’t.”
“You left.”
“I also fled the city and ran out of gas.”
“After you left.”
“The distinction feels generous.”
“It’s important, Halston.”
I look down at my bare finger. The pale ring mark looks even starker under the flickering ceiling light. “I don’t feel good.”
“I didn’t say you felt good. I said you did good.”
I lift my eyes to his. He’s serious. No joke hiding in the corner of his mouth. No sarcasm.
“You left,” he repeats, “and that counts.”
I feel the sob deep within me, but hold it back. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods once, uncomfortable, and reaches in his pocket. He pulls out my phone.
I blink at him. “You took my phone?”
“Marley gave it to me when we were getting out of the car.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew I’d delete his contact before you noticed.”
I gasp as he hands it to me.
“Did you really?”
“No, but I did change his name.”
My stomach drops. “To what?” I open the contacts with shaking fingers. Grant’s name is gone.
In its place: BOAT SHOE JUDAS.
For a second, I just stare at it. And then I laugh so hard I nearly fall onto my bed.
Marley yells from down the stairs, “Did he show you?”
“You’re both horrible,” I call back.
Oliver’s mouth twitches. “You’re welcome.”
“I can’t have my ex-fiancé saved as Boat Shoe Judas.”
“You can. I checked.”
“What if he calls during a business meeting?”
He shrugs. “You’ll know not to answer.”
I clutch the phone and look up at him. “Oliver?”
“Yeah?”
“If I text Boat Shoe Judas tonight, you have permission to throw my phone into the harbor.”
His lips thin. “I already had permission.”
“You did not.”
“I assumed.”
He needs to stop assuming.
He points toward the bathroom. “Lock the door, shower, and sleep.”
“Yes, dad.”
His face morphs into horror. “Never say that again, please.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s emotionally damaging.”
“I take it back.”
“I’m still billing you,” he says as he heads for the stairs. At the top, he looks back. “If you need anything—”
“I know,” I say softly.
He gives one sharp nod as he disappears. A moment later, I hear their voices downstairs. Low, but clearly arguing gently. The back door opens and closes, and I settle into the silence.
“I breathe through the light panic as I stand, gather the clothes Marley found, and walk to the bathroom.”
The shower does, in fact, scream. A high, ancient sound that might be the pipes or may be a ghost with a grievance.
I laugh under the spray, then cry again, quieter this time.
When I get out, my phone buzzes. My heart stops as I hope it isn’t Boat Shoe Judas.
But it’s Marley.
MARLEY
Alive?
Shower screamed but I survived.
MARLEY
Proud of you. Lock the door.
Yes, mom.
MARLEY
I’m cooler than your mom.
True.
MARLEY
I love you.
Love you too
A second later, Oliver texts.
OLIVER
Door.
I roll my eyes, walking downstairs to check the back door. I lock the deadbolt before trudging back up.
Locked.
OLIVER
Oven knobs.
I groan, checking to make sure the oven in the kitchenette isn’t going to blow up.
all off
OLIVER
phone charging?
Yes.
OLIVER
Sleep.
Bossy.
OLIVER
Alive.
I stare at it for a long time. Alive.
Not fine, or healed, and certainly not dignified. But alive.
I set my phone on the floor next to the mattress and turn off the light. The afternoon sun shines through the windows, but the apartment is dim.
Outside, something scratches against the fire escape, and I turn my head.
Sir Nubsworth sits on the railing, a strange little shape.
One-eyed. Three-legged. Still showing up for snacks. “You and me both,” I whisper.
I pull the blanket to my chin. Downstairs, Saints & Sinners is picking up steam, and Oliver is probably pissed at everyone who comes in. Next door, Bitter Bloom is probably winding down.
Somewhere across the city, Grant is probably forming a narrative about how I overreacted.
Let him. Tonight, I have snacks in my stomach, gas in my car, a locked door, a bakery next door, my two best friends who came when I called, and an ex-fiancé saved in my phone as Boat Shoe Judas.
It’s not a life. Not yet, anyway. But it’s a start.
For the first time all day, when I close my eyes, I don’t see Grant’s office.
I see the ring disappearing under coffee. And Marley climbing into my passenger seat. And Oliver behind me with his hazards on.
I see the road back to Baltimore.
And then, I finally sleep.