She looks devastated.
I’m not what she was expecting.
I’m a fraud.
“This way,” she says as she points to the crosswalk.
“Right,” I say.
The coffee shop is empty for a Friday, but we order and I pay.
Then, we find an outside spot to watch the cars pass by.
“Your mind is somewhere else,” Britta notices as she takes a sip of her iced mocha.
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “My mom escaped prison and it’s making the headlines back home.” And I’m still in love with my ex.
Can’t say that part out loud, though.
“Oh my goodness!” Britta says as she touches my hand lightly. “That’s… um… I don’t even have the right word.”
“Insane?” I offer.
She nods, her blue-gray eyes concerned. “Do they know how she escaped?”
I exhale. “She shanked a guard with a spork.”
Silence falls across the table.
“You’re joking,” Britta deadpans.
“Wish I was,” I reply.
Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m so sorry, Cash.”
“It’s alright.” I wave it off as I stare out at the busy street.
Right now, Ingrid and Wilder are setting up a tent so we can camp on the beach for the next two days.
All I can think about is how messed up it is that I’m here with the reason we took this road trip in the first place, and I wish I was anywhere else.
“If this is too much,” Britta begins, “we can meet up tomorrow instead.”
I take a deep breath. “No, I drove all this way.”
She gives me a small smile. “You’ve been through a lot, Cash. Not just your mom escaping prison. Everything before that. You should take some time to rest and enjoy the west coast.”
I nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“It’s a short walk back,” she say. “Let’s go.”
Neither of us speak as we walk, but the silence is less tense than before.
Maybe I’ve been so focused on Ingrid and Wilder because I don’t want to deal with what my mom’s done.
She ruined my relationship with Ingrid.
She almost ruined the Winthrops’ livelihood.
