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I grab the packet, a bottle of vodka, and one of those Styrofoam food containers from the table. And once I’m in my bedroom, I play every option in my head over and over again, trying to flip to the very last page—to the future, the part that Ty said wasn’t real. No matter how hard I try, I can’t see it.
And once again, I feel like my only choice isn’t a choice at all.
Hours later, I emerge from my bedroom and step into the hallway. I approach the banister and call down into the living room below. “Mom?”
“What is it, Mel?”
“I’ll go," I tell her. “And I’m going to transfer the rest of the money over to you; I don’t want it.”
“That’s the right thing to do,” she says.
The satisfied, almost eager look on her face nearly makes me take it all back. “But you use it to take care of Emma. If I find out that you wasted it—or that you hurt her like you hurt me—I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”
She scoffs. “I’m not—”
“Afraid of me? You should be.” I turn, but before I go back into my room add, “I wouldn’t have missed.”
seven
Summer 1999
It’s silent as we load up the car—and not the comfortable kind. It’s foreboding, a warning, but one that I don’t quite understand and definitely one I don’t heed.
‘Run,’ my mind screams again.
But that’s what I’m doing already, isn’t it? I am running. I’m listening this time. So why won’t it go away?
I write it off as nerves. Anyone would be nervous leaving home for the first time, especially when it’s to a place they’ve never been and somewhere so far away, especially when they’ve been through what I’ve been through.
Emma sits in the front seat next to my mom, and Ty and I climb into the back. He’s staring out his window, his leg bouncing as he chews on the inside of his cheek the way he always does when he’s nervous.
He’s trying, though. He took it okay when I told him. He didn’t try to argue, but he’s been quiet, and he isn’t happy. I tried to convince him to come with me—that we could go together and start over. He could find a job, I could go to school, and we could build something new together.
But the timing is wrong—so much about this is wrong. His dad is dying, and his family needs him. And I understand, even if I need him, too.
“Why is it so quiet in here?” Emma asks. “Oh, let’s turn on the radio!”
She turns the dial and static screeches in our ears. “What the fuck! Turn it off, Emma!” I hiss, my tone coming off far more harsh than necessary.
My mom reaches over and turns the volume down. “It’ll probably be at least another hour before we can pick anything up on the radio. Just…relax and enjoy the scenery. And you don’t need to yell at your sister, Amelia. Who knows when you’re going to see each other again…”
“We’ll see each other at Christmas, right?” Emma asks.
“Hopefully before that,” Ty grumbles.
I glance over at Ty, then up to Emma, and let go of the sob that’s been lodged in my throat since we backed out of the driveway. I bring my knees to my chest, drop my head, and let myself weep. Minutes go by before Ty unbuckles his seatbelt and slides over to my side of the vehicle. He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my head under his chin, clutch his shirt in my fists, and try to get a fucking grip.
“It’s okay, Mellie,” he says. He buries a hand in my hair while the other traces soothing lines up and down my back.
“You’re mad at me,” I sob.
“No, I’m not mad at you,” he says. “I love you. I’ll miss you, but…we’re going to be okay. Just like always.”
“Stop acting like such a baby,” my mom says. “It’s embarrassing. You’re upsetting your sister.”
“You’re my baby,” he whispers into my ear.
I smile against his chest and we settle back into an ominous silence, my mind focused on the steady rhythm of Ty’s heartbeat to keep me grounded.
