By the time I got myself off my own ass and tried to track her down, she was gone.
I took a trip out to the west coast, driving for two days straight. I went straight to the Underground Crows HQ. Turns out they aren’t bad guys after all. Quite hospitable and with as many kids running around their club as we have.
Cleo and Kray were welcoming, but I missed Stella by a few days.
It turns out her and Cleo aren’t real sisters, not blood ones anyway. I don’t know why Stella didn’t tell me. They met when they shared the same foster home for two years.
When I met Stella, she’d been staying with Cleo for two months. And it didn’t seem odd to Cleo when she moved on.
Cleo said she often goes long spells without hearing from Stella.
It made me wonder what else I don’t know about her. It seemed like there was more Cleo wanted to say but she didn’t.
I scoured the coast looking for her. I contacted every long-term care facility on the west coast. But none of them knew of a Stella.
I came back to the mountain frustrated but more determined than ever to find her.
As weeks turned into months, I began to wonder if I imagined that weekend together. If the connection we shared was real.
A hand comes down heavy on my shoulder, and I glance up into the concerned eyes of Bit Rate.
“Maybe it’s time to move on, bro. I know it isn’t easy. But you look like shit, and your grumpy face is scaring away the customers.”
He of all people should know. Bit Rate lost his wife four years ago. It’s what propelled him out of the military in a fit of grief and anger.
He went from working intel for the military to raising two small kids on his own. A string of unsuitable nannies means they’re often here at the clubhouse and getting in everyone’s way. Two wild little girls with a grumpy dad who just wants to hide away at home and lose himself in shoot em’ up video games.
He’s in here now because there’s a problem with the club’s internet provider.
Bit Rate manages the IT for the club and its businesses. It’s a gross underuse of his skills, but it keeps him close to home where his girls need him.
Maybe he’s right and it’s time to move on. But whenever I think about giving up on Stella, I remember her easy laugh and soft look and I can’t let myself forget her.
“Maybe,” I say noncommittally.
12
STELLA
The shuffle of feet on linoleum has me looking up from the night desk. You never know when one of the residents is going to go for a late-night wander. But it’s only Terry, wheeling the cleaning cart out of the ward.
“Night night Stella.” He lifts a hand, and I wave in response.
“Night Terry. Drive safe.”
He uses his card to buzz through the doors, and they slide back into place behind him.
I hear him opening the cleaning closet and the squeaky wheels of the cart as it rolls away for the night. Then he’s gone out the main doors and into the night.
Silence settles over the nursing home, broken by the occasional heavy snore from one of the residents.
The other night warden is on his late break, and I’ll wait for him to come back before I do a walk around.
I grab my phone and pull up a picture I took of meand Will from the first day of the festival. We’re smiling, and he’s got the bruise on his face. I wonder how it healed and if he’s got a scar.
The phone screen goes dead, and I rummage in my purse for my charger. I come up empty handed. I must have left it at home.
I stuff my useless phone in my purse and sigh.
