CAELA
She wanted to go home. But home was back in Ohio, in a little two-bedroom apartment that belonged to some other family now.
Home was a Saturday morning on the couch with her dad, wearing flannel pajamas and eating scrambled eggs while they laughed at bad movies.
Home was doing homework to the sound of him singing along with Soundgarden while he made them dinner.
Her mother’s house hadn’t been home. It was never going to replace the home she’d lost.
And she assumed she’d never find a home again.
Until the day that Jennette finally gave out on her in some tiny town in the Cumberland Mountains that she wasn’t even sure could be found on a map.
She was sitting in the front seat, shivering against the cold, head in her hands, tears creating salty ponds in her palms, in the parking lot of a gas station on Maple Street.
She’d pulled in to get a snack and use the restroom, but when she returned, the car wouldn’t start.
The engine revved and revved, until Caela saw a thin trail of smoke curling out from beneath Jennette’s hood.
Caela hadn’t always been a crier. Her dad used to tease her about it.
He’d get misty eyed if anything sad or touching involving old people or kids or animals happened in a book or on TV.
Once or twice, she’d even caught him getting teary during one of those awful movies they loved to mock together.
When she would call him out on it, he’d throw one of the couch pillows at her.
“Not all of us can be stone-cold like you,” he’d say with a laugh.
Always with a laugh.
There was never judgment. He understood that things just affected her differently. Just like she never really judged him for how easily he’d cry. They’d poke fun and tease, but it was always with love.
So, so much love.
It’s why she didn’t feel guilty when she hadn’t cried at his funeral. She knew he’d have understood if he was there. He’d know she was devastated, even if her eyes stayed dry. He’d know that crying just didn’t come easy to her.
She could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried since he died.
It hadn’t happened when she and her mother had packed up his stuff.
Or when she drove away from their home for the last time, on her way to Kentucky.
Or when her friends moved on without her.
Or when her mother had gotten angry or been disappointed in her. Not even when she’d been kicked out.
But sitting in that gas station parking lot in that little mountain town, with ice clinging to the trees overhead, something just broke.
Whatever it was that had kept her together, that had held the floodgates for so long, had burst open.
And now months’ worth of unshed tears were pouring from her eyes like a flood from a broken dam.
She was gasping, sobbing, feeling sick and sad and so, so alone.
And then Caela saw her—the beautiful girl with the wavy hair and the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. She tapped on Caela’s window, and when Caela looked up, between the glare of midafternoon sun and the blur of tears in her eyes, the girl almost didn’t look real. Like a hazy, golden vision.
An angel.
“You okay?” the girl asked, her voice muffled by the closed window. Caela reached over to roll it down with the hand crank so she could hear. The cold air rushed into the car, making her shiver even harder than before.
“Sorry,” Caela gasped, rubbing her eyes. “Wh-what do you need?”
“No need to apologize, hon,” the girl said. She was underdressed for the weather—no coat, no boots, just a raggedy, long-sleeved dress over ripped leggings. She must’ve been freezing, but here she was, checking on a complete stranger. “I don’t need anything. Just wanna see if you’re all right?”
“I’m f-f-fine.” But Caela could hear how ridiculous that sounded, coming from her croaking voice as tears continued to stream down her face.
She doubted that she was very convincing.
She swallowed, trying to choke back the sobs.
Since crying was such a foreign feeling to her, she didn’t really know how to stop it once she started.
“I … My car just broke down. Sorry. I’m s-sorry. ”
“You can stop apologizing. You ain’t done anything wrong.” The angelic girl glanced around the nearly empty parking lot. “You from around here?”
“No.”
“You got anyone you can call?”
“No.” Caela gestured vaguely to the cupholder, where her long-dead phone was sitting. “It’s— My service got cut off.”
Because of course her mother and Rob wouldn’t keep paying for her cell phone. Caela had been upset but not at all surprised the day it had stopped working.
The girl looked at her for a long moment. The warmth in her eyes felt like it might be enough to keep Caela from freezing to death. Her voice was soft and sweet, too, when she asked, “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
She didn’t ask why Caela was alone. She didn’t ask where she had come from or who she left behind. She didn’t ask Caela anything about her past. Instead, this apparition of celestial beauty just asked her one question, the one question that, whether Caela knew it or not, would change her life.
“Do you need help?”
Caela swallowed. “I don’t— I don’t want to be a burden.”
The girl shook her head, black waves flying in all directions. “Stop that. If you were a burden, I wouldn’t offer. I got a place you can stay. Somewhere safe. If you wanna come with me.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Then it’s a good thing I ain’t charging.”
Caela hesitated, worried this was too good to be true.
But she didn’t see what other choice she had.
Going with this beautiful girl to a safe, warm place was certainly a better option than sleeping in her car, which, if it wouldn’t start, wouldn’t have any heat, either.
So after a pause, Caela nodded slowly and pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now grab whatever you can carry. We’ve gotta walk. But Sol and me can come back to get the rest of your stuff tomorrow.”
“Who’s Sol?” Caela asked.
“A friend,” she replied, though her smile grew wider when she mentioned him. “You’ll meet him when we get where we’re going. You can call me Lily, by the way. Now, these garbage bags in the back seat—that all your clothes?”
“Um, yeah.”
“All right. I’ll grab one, just so you got stuff to wear until we get the rest. You bring anything you don’t wanna leave in the car overnight.”
Caela didn’t have much of value with her. The only thing that might be worth stealing was the fancy camera, tucked safely in its shoulder bag. She took it along with her car keys and climbed out, locking Jennette’s doors behind her.
Lily’s eyes lingered on the camera for a moment. “Are you a photographer?” she asked.
“No. I used to like making videos, but I haven’t done that in a while.”
“Good cameras are expensive, right?”
“Yeah.” A fact that made Caela feel all the more guilty for the fact that she hadn’t even turned the thing on in months, only using it when Sam had insisted on wanting her to film him.
Even then, she’d usually just used her phone.
The camera being a gift from the day she lost her dad carried far too many feelings with it.
“You ready?” Lily asked, hefting the garbage bag full of Caela’s T-shirts and jeans into her arms.
“Yeah, but I can carry that. You don’t have to.”
But Lily shook her head. “Not this time. I got it. Sounds like you been through enough. I can take a load off your shoulders.”
“I … Thank you. That’s really nice.” So nice, in fact, it almost made Caela start crying again.
Lily smiled and bumped Caela’s hip with hers before she started to walk down the street. Caela followed close behind. “Where we’re going, that’s how it will always be. We take care of each other. You’ll see.”
It was only later that Caela realized Lily had never even asked her name.