It all starts with a little lie.
“My mom’s sick,” I say to Marcus, keeping my expression neutral.
“Shit, really? Is she okay?” he asks, concern knitting his brow.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I answer dismissively before realizing I need to seem a little broken up to sell it. “But I’m going to check in on her, just to be sure. Can you do me a favor and drive me to the airport after work?”
“Uh, sure,” Marcus agrees, shaking his head with confusion. “You can’t drive yourself?”
“I’m going to let Luke borrow my truck,” I say, just as I’ve rehearsed it a million times before coming over here. “He doesn’t have a vehicle right now, so I’ve been driving him. This way, he’ll be able to get to work since I won’t need the truck while I’m gone.”
Marcus seems surprised. “Oh. Okay, sure. I have to double-check with Tiff and make sure we don’t have something going on tonight. What time is your flight?”
“Whatever’s available first.”
“You haven’t bought a ticket yet?” Marcus arches a single brow at me skeptically. “Are you okay, dude? You’re not usually so spontaneous.”
Jesus Christ, why does he know me so well? I should have asked Ben or Eric. “I can be spontaneous.”
Marcus gives me a dull look, and I roll my eyes.
“Whatever.” I sigh. “It seemed like it would work out the best for everyone this way, so I figured it’d be fine even if I had to wait a bit. Besides, there’s bound to be a red-eye I can catch.”
Marcus studies me up and down for a second, like he’s assessing if I’m actually of sound mind and body to travel. Then he shrugs after he comes to his conclusion. If he’s at all suspicious about the timing of this, he doesn’t let on. But I doubt he could guess what’s truly going on.
At quitting time, before Luke can say anything to derail my concentration, I hand him the keys to my truck and give him the same sick mother story, hyping up the drama so he’ll believe that’s why I’ve been so unusual today. He immediatelyunderstands, much to his credit, and even offers me support, just like a sensitive and caring person would.Lord, help me.
With that, I effectively avoid facing my problems head-on.
With only the clothes on my back and the duffel from my truck, Marcus drives me to the airport, and I get on the first available flight to Miami.
I’m startled awake by my mother’s horrified scream, followed by a solid stream of colorful expletives ending with the thinly veiled promise to put me in an early grave for scaring the shit out of her.
“Are you hurt?” she demands, her concern overshadowing the level of agitation in her voice at finding me asleep on her couch. That’s the Elaine Carlson I know. “Are you dying?”
“No,” I reply groggily, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. I glance at my phone and see it’s only six o’clock—I forgot I got my love of the early morning from her. It wouldn’t be an issue, except I’ve barely gotten more than four hours of sleep after driving the hour up to Boynton Beach from Miami at one in the morning.
“Did you kill someone?” Mom asks, quite seriously, moving to the window and pulling back the curtains as if checking to ensure we’re not being watched. “Are you on the run from the law? Do we need to hide a body?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Mom. Relax, please. No crimes have been committed.”
“Oh, good.” She sighs, coming to sit next to me on the couch. She grabs my chin in her hand, turning my face back and forth to look at me with a critical eye. “Are you depressed again? Are you eating?”
“Ma!” I cry indignantly, rolling my eyes.
She tugs on my too-long beard, telling me all I need to know about what she thinks ofthatbefore dropping her hand. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, honey, but you don’t usually just show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night unannounced unless something’s wrong.”
I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. Why does everyone seem to know me so well? It’s unsettling. And says a lot about my apparent inflexibility. I should probably work on that.
“Can we talk about it later?” I stifle a yawn. “I just want to go back to bed.”
“What time did you get here?”
“Around two, maybe.”
“Ethan!” Mom gasps, her brows knitting with a severe frown. “You couldn’t be bothered to text me that you were coming?Last night?I would have stayed up to wait for you. What if you had fallen asleep at the wheel and driven into the ocean? I couldn’t have even called a search party because I didn’t know you were in town!”
“I’m sorry.” I groan, dropping my head against the couch and closing my eyes. I know she’s right, but I’m too tired to be put through a lecture. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t text her. To say it slipped my mind amidst the swirling panic is an understatement, but that’s still no excuse.
