Part 14 (1/2)

”If you want me to come, it has to be now,” I say to Landon.

He smiles at me and lifts me up into the pa.s.senger cab. I give an awkward 'h.e.l.lo' to the trucker who I hope is okay with this and climb into the back sleeper section of the cab.

Tw.a.n.g! Tw.a.n.g! Tw.a.n.g!

”Don't you dare run away from me!” Todd thumps his palm hard on the truck's side paneling as we drive off. ”You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h! What are you doing?!”

We accelerate. I cry some more, hearing Todd's shouting get quieter and quieter. Landon's arm is reaching back for me, squeezing my knee for comfort.

”This is the right choice, darlin'. You're always safe with me.”

17.

My knees are bent into my chest. The California highways at night become one big blur of darkness, truck stops, and pa.s.sing lights.

I wonder what's running through Todd's head... Or Billie's... I've just run off with Landon, a G.o.dd.a.m.ned biker I'm not even supposed to know. They have no way to find me or contact me. Will they be panicking? Will they put out a missing persons report? If only I'd had time to do this right or to come up with a story that makes sense. Thing is, life doesn't wait for the perfect time. I can't see a hope of ever repairing my relations.h.i.+ps here once I go back.

'...once I go back...' That thought confirms I haven't fully chosen yet whether I'll stay in Jethrow or not. I've chosen Landon, sure, but I can't get my head around staying in that town... Baddock, the security of my studio, nature, and being away from the chaos of too many people- I fear I'll miss all of that too much.

But that's not a priority to worry about right now. I have three days to make a decision.

Now's not the time, Lucy.

”You comfortable back there, darlin'?” Landon asks quietly.

”I'm okay.”

He reaches a hand back towards me and I accept it willingly.

We pulled off the highway to all take a nap and eat then returned on our journey into the morning.

The sun has risen over the hills that wall the horizon. The scenery's changed from dense forests to open plains once more. Industrial businesses begin appearing, familiar ones. The old county abattoir that shut down in the eighties, still as decrepit as ever, clues me into our impending arrival.

Then I see it...

The worn-down sign...

Jethrow, Oregon, there to tell me I've truly left my comfort zone many miles behind me.

I laugh at the graffiti covering the 'J' and the 'E' that instead spells out 'DEA'. Kids have done this for years and no matter how hard the town council try fix it, they can't stop it from happening. Thing is, they're looking at the problem all wrong. The issue isn't the kids doing the graffiti- It's the knuckle-head, addict parents who raise them and make the town the Deathrow it is. Fix them and you fix the sign.

”Great. Looking forward to this,” Landon says, tone dripping in sarcasm.

Driving through the old streets is strange to me but not foreign. Not a lot has changed as far as the buildings and Mom 'n' Pop stores go. In fact, someone could've said to me that I've only been gone days, not years, and I'd have believed them.

It's when we drive by the Savvy 7 Gas Station that my panic starts to kick in. I've left my meds behind so am afraid of how I might react just being here. My hands tremble as I rub them together and look into Savvy 7 to the bored, young female working behind the counter like I did back in high school. She was me once, only with less blood on her hands. I time-travel to back then, those six years ago, to Landon's face watching me through the window of his mom's truck, him shouting to me to be happy and keep fighting as I drove away. He wore a red baseball cap and his wife-beater was tainted with blood and dirt. This memory would otherwise hurt, keep me confined to my bed for hours, but all I have to do now is reach forward to the pa.s.senger seat to place my hand on his arm and I feel comforted.

”Here you go,” the truck driver, Bluey, tells us. We're standing outside a s.h.i.+tty motel that used to moonlight as the Jethrow brothel. I don't know if they'd ever be bothered to clean it up.

We thank him, unload Landon's bike and watch him disappear down the main street. More panic seeps in. I'm in this now. No more running.

After twenty minutes standing in the uncomfortable morning sun, Landon comes back with some keys and gestures me to follow him. He opens a door into a suite that's embedded with the smell of dampness and stale cigarettes.

”Wow, what a s.h.i.+t hole,” I say.

I wish I could be back in my studio wrapped up with Babeen right now. I drag my tensed eyes over the brown carpet, the pink sheets, the gaudy comforter...Bleck! It's tacky, disgusting, claustrophobic.

”There's only one bed,” I notice.

”It's all they had sweetheart... I'm takin' the floor anyhow.”

”The floor? You'll get sick. There's mould on the wall over there.”

”I'll survive.”

”Landon, let's not stay here.”

”They're the only ones that take cash, Lucy. You got a bank card you want to use?” I don't answer. I have a bank out of necessity to get my wages and for nothing else. I don't even know how much is in there at this point. ”Didn't think so. Bluey gave me some money for tonight. He's old MC crew from Santa Cruz. He gets it. We gotta keep this quiet and stay here till I figure out what's going on, for our own sakes'.”

I cross my arms. ”No.”

”Pardon?”

”I'm not your prisoner. I don't wanna stay here and I don't have to. It creeps me the f.u.c.k out. Let's go somewhere else.”

I'm bluffing but I walk outside anyway and down the row of other doorways. There's someone f.u.c.king in #18. I can hear them. A nervous businessman is staring out the window in #13, waiting for his call girl, I guess.

Landon follows me and calls after me nicely. I don't respond. My inner child is screaming at me 'WARNING WARNING WARNING'. The morning feels muggy and sticky already, that same air that I've come to resent.

”Lucy!” he calls after me again.

”Why am I even here?” I say, reaching the vending machine to buy a drink to cool me down. ”What do I do now?”

”You stay a few nights with me and leave a free woman. I'm not holding you here.”

”Yes you are!”

”No, I'm not, Luce. You can go when you please.”

”You begged for me to come with you.”

”I know. I know I did. Let's not make a scene here. Please come back in the room. We can figure this out.”

An older couple sharing a cigarette beside the run-down pool look up at us.

”Lucy,” he insists.