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Okay. I tried to breathe. An allergic reaction wasn’t that bad. She had her medicine with her at all times.
“It’s just that…” he continued after clearing his throat. It almost felt like it pained him to keep talking to me, but I didn’t care that he was annoyed about having to call me. I just wanted to know about my sister. “She didn’t tell us she wasn’t feeling well, so she had a fall.” He gave out the information in tiny pieces. I wanted to crawl into my phone and make him spit it out. “And she hit her head. We’re at the hospital, and they’ve run all tests. She’s good, but they want to keep her for a few more hours just for precaution.”
“Where are you?” I demanded immediately. It was such a Julia thing to drop dead because she didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble.
I got on the first bus out of LA to San Diego. I told Winter to keep me updated and to not let her leave before I got there.
Now, I’m ten minutes away from the station, and all I want is to run to my sister. I can’t stand this bus anymore. The putrid smell of cheap perfume and sour-cream-and-onion-flavored chips is causing my stomach to churn.
When you’re in a different country, a place that doesn’t quite welcome you as one of its own, it’s funny how everything seems scarier. Rationally, I know she’s okay. But I won’t rest until I see her.
The bus finally comes to a stop in what looks like the middle of an avenue. To my left, there’s a tram station. To my right, a parking spot, and beyond that, Old Town San Diego.
My phone buzzes in my pocket before I can think of taking it out to call an Uber. Winter’s name, which I saved after his first call, appears on the screen.
“I’m in the black Jeep,” he says, skipping any greetings. At the same time, a car in the parking lot flashes its high beams and then turns off completely. The light inside the car is on, and I squint my eyes to see his silhouette. “Are you coming, or are you going to stand there staring at me?”
What the hell?
I walk to the car and yank the door open. “What are you doing here?”
“I think you mean, ‘Thanks for the ride, Winter.’”
“I was gonna get an Uber,” I say, refusing to get in. I don’t know why I’m being so difficult. He’s being helpful, which is completely throwing me off. Maybe that’s why. I don’t know this Winter, and I don’t feel like getting to know him now of all moments. For all I know, he’s just keeping me from getting a car to go see my sister.
“Yeah, well.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’m here. Get in.”
“I’m getting an Uber,” I repeat, already unlocking the screen.
“No,” he says, more firmly this time. “You’re not. Get in the car, Luiza.”
I think this is the first time I hear him say my name. I don’t know how my brain can register this right now. My name on his lips sounds like a lock clicking into place. It feels just right.
And I hate it.
“Luiza,” he repeats my name like an incantation, softly, and I hate him even more. Because his voice has no right to cause this kind of reaction on my body. “It’s almost midnight. It’s late. You don’t need to get an Uber alone. I’ll take you to your sister.”
I hate how irrational he makes me. I know none of this discussion makes sense, but for whatever reason, it pains me to concede. But I do. Because I need to get to Julia.
I don’t remember this from my drunk ride after Olivia’s birthday, but Winter’s car smells good. Like leather, wood, and cinnamon. It’s like walking right into Christmas in the middle of August. I huff in annoyance and try to breathe only through my mouth so I won’t get a whiff of the amazing smell every time I inhale. He really needed to smell like my favorite holiday, didn’t he?
There are virtually no cars on the roads at this time of night. The city is empty as I watch it whiz by through the window of the car. We don’t take any roads that go by the coast, but just being near the ocean I can feel its energy. The breeze that comes from the sea brings a familiar smell I didn’t know I missed so much. It takes me right back to my hometown.
I’m so distracted by the memories of my childhood that I don’t see anything until it’s all happened. All I register is the loud screech of tires and a heavy weight on my stomach, like a safety bar keeping me from fly out the windshield.
“Motherfucker,” Winter growls. “Son of a bitch.”
The heavy bar across my stomach starts to move, and I realize it’s Winter’s arm. He slows the car to a stop, pulling over near a park. Then he turns to face me. “I’m sorry. He didn’t stop. He should’ve stopped. I should’ve seen he wasn’t slowing down, but he appeared out of nowhere. I’m sorry.”
He’s talking a million words a minute, and I’m in such shock, I can’t say anything in return. My heart is beating impossibly fast inside my chest.
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” His voice is so much softer, it takes me a second to register it’s him talking to me again. My head’s still spinning, but I force myself to focus.
“I’m okay,” I affirm. Then I repeat more to myself, “I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry. He came out of nowhere. He was supposed to stop. He didn’t,” he repeats. He’s so distraught he doesn’t sound like himself. The car suddenly seems way too small. Our distress too big to fit here.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him. “We can go now.”
