Chapter 51
SLOANE
The last few days have knocked me sideways. The entire architecture of who I thought I was got rearranged in Duster and although I'm not in a hurry to put it back, it's disorienting to stand in the rubble. I’m lying on my bed when Sita interrupts my fantasies about Maggie for the fifth time.
I finally answer and prop myself up with a sigh.
"Sita."
"Oh my GOD. She LIVES. Sloane. I've called you like a thousand times. I was about to call your parents.”
"I'm sorry. I've been terrible."
"You have been terrible." A pause. "Are you mad at me? About the club? Because I need you to know I went off at Mel after you left and I told her exactly what I thought about her filming you. I haven't really spoken to her since—"
"I'm not mad at you." And I'm not, I realize as I say it. "I'm not mad at you, Sita. I've just been distracted."
"Distracted. With what? Taking mud baths?"
I laugh. "Something like that."
Sita lets it pass. She's clearly bursting with something and can't hold it any longer.
"Okay, listen. Listen. The reason I've been calling — well, one of the reasons, the other reason is that I love you and you abandoned me — but the actual reason is I'm planning something and I know how you feel about surprises so I'm doing the right thing and spoiling it in advance. "
"Sita—"
"A welcome-back party!” she yells, interrupting me.
“For when you're done. I know, I know, you hate a surprise, so I'm telling you, but you still have to act surprised on the night, of course.
" She's off, the words tumbling. "I'm thinking the place in Venice with the rooftop, or Nicole offered her house but I said no after Palm Springs, obviously.
Actually, you should pick. You tell me the venue, the food, the guest list — I'll cut anyone you want cut, I mean it, this is your night.
And S-mag that wants to cover it, photographer and everything, very tasteful, very you.
" She finally breathes. "I can’t wait to have you back full-time. It's been so weird without you."
Part of me isn’t surprised. This is Sita all over — turning the end of community service into a comeback. She’s always been over-the-top, even more so than me. The other part of me realizes that the old me would have loved this. But now, I’m just not feeling it.
"Sita, that's so sweet of you. Really." I pick at the hem of my t-shirt. "But I’m not even sure when I’m coming back."
Silence.
"What do you mean? Your sentence ends, you come home. That's how it works."
"I know. I just—" I stand up, walk to the window, look out at the dusty lot and the rusted Toyota that's been on flat tires since I arrived. "There's some stuff I've started here with the sanctuary,” I add, keeping it vague. “And I want to see how it goes."
"Come on, Sloane." Sita’s voice goes up a notch. "Don't tell me you actually want to stay there longer than you need to. That’s crazy."
"I don't know what I want." I shake my head because it’s a lie and the truth at the same time. "I'm just not ready to come home yet. That's all I can tell you."
"This is about a person, isn't it?"
"What?"
"You've gone all weird and you 'don't know what's happening. There's a person. Is it that cop? The one who arrested you? Please tell me it's not the cop.”
"It's not the cop. There's no — I just need to figure some things out, okay? On my own. And then when my sentence is up, you and I will get together, properly, just the two of us, and I'll tell you everything. I promise. I miss you. I do."
There's a pause, and then she sighs. "Fine. No party. For now. But the second you're back I'm taking you to dinner and you're going to explain yourself."
"Deal."
"I love you, you absolute weirdo." She gasps. “Wait. You haven’t joined a cult, have you? That church you went to…”
"No, Sita. Not a cult. Not a cop. And listen, I have to go. Dad is trying to call me," I lie.
The phone rings again almost immediately and I assume it's Sita with one more thing, but it's Maggie and I'm grinning before I've even answered.
"Hey," I say. "Did your mom leave?"
"Just now. Drove off five minutes ago." There's a smile in her voice. "Listen — I'm calling about tomorrow. You can’t come in."
"What? Why?"
"Storm warning. There's a wind advisory up for tomorrow afternoon, and they're saying there's a real chance it kicks up a dust event — blowing dust, bad visibility.
The buses won't run, and it’s not safe to pick you up in the morning in case it pulls in early.
The I-5 in a dust storm is genuinely how people die out here.
The pileups are awful and you can't see a thing.
I've canceled the other volunteers too. I can manage one day on my own. "
"Okay. Wow. A dust storm."
"Welcome to summer in the valley." Maggie hesitates. "Unless you want to come tonight, before it's even a risk. I could come get you now, but then you'd be stuck out here at the house, probably through tomorrow night, until it blows over and the roads are clear."
"Are you kidding?" I say. "I would so much rather be stuck with you than stay here. And besides—" I look at the window, the flat tan light going gold over the lot "—if there's actually a storm coming, you'll need the help, won't you?"
"I could definitely do with help," Maggie admits. "I was going to pretend I didn't, but yes. There's a lot to do right before it hits.” She pauses. "I'd want you here either way, though. The storm is a convenient excuse."
"You don't need an excuse. I'd come anyway," I say, grinning at the ceiling. “And I'm hoping the storm is a long one.”