Page 8

Wind whipped around me, tangling my hair. I unwrapped the donut from the napkin. “I hate you,” I said to Jeff. “But I still want you to have a donut with our daughter.”

I ran my fingers through the blades of grass, aching because my baby was gone, but I was still here. I closed my eyes and prayed. I just wanted her to know I missed her.

Lightning in the distance streaked across the sky. I kissed my fingertips and touched them to Matilda’s name, forever etched into stone. “Momma loves you. Take care of her,” I said to Jeff.

I hurried to the car, climbed behind the wheel, and slowly drove along the tree-lined road toward the exit. As hard as it was to come to the cemetery, it was harder to leave.

Tears flooded my eyes as I drove away. A flare of pain ripped through me, and my entire body convulsed on a sob. Wanting to get home, I headed for the highway. Distance-wise, it was farther, but I’d get home faster because I’d avoid rush hour traffic heading out of downtown.

Another fork of lightning crisscrossed the sky. The spines of the flash snaked through the darkening clouds, almost of if the sky danced for me. I searched for her in the clouds, and I could imagine her dancing in the rain, fearless of the storm.

Boom!

That wasn’t thunder. I sat up straighter, gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and checked my rearview mirror. Light glinted off metal as it tumbled down the road.

“Did I run over something or was that part of my car?” Although I was talking to myself, I still expected someone to answer.

My steering wheel jittered with a vibration. Another bolt of lightning brightened the distant sky. This wasn’t happening. The rumble in my car wasn’t thunder. Did I really just get a flat?

I flipped on my blinker and changed lanes. Just as I drove onto the shoulder of the road, the lights on my dashboard flickered. The car rolled to a stop, and the controls went dark.

My pulse ratcheted up. “It’s fine. This is what roadside assistance is for.” I pressed the flashers, relieved that they worked. Once there was a break in traffic, I exited my car and checked the driver’s side tires. Both seemed okay. I quickly walked around the front of the car and checked the passenger side. Both tires looked low. If they weren’t flat yet, they would be in another minute or two.

I had a spare, but not two. And a flat tire didn’t explain why my car was practically dead on the side of the road. This day just kept getting shittier.

Once back in the car, I locked the doors, grabbed my service card from the glovebox, and called for roadside assistance just to be connected with the automatic recording.

“We are experiencing a high number of calls, but your call is important to us. Please stay on the line for the next available customer service representative.”

I put the call on speakerphone, leaned my head back, and listened to the on-hold music. Cars whizzed past, lightning lit the sky, and the ominous storm clouds rolled closer.

The music cut off, and a woman’s voice filled the car. “Thank you for holding. Can I get your account number?”

After I verified my account, I described my situation and my approximate location.

“We’ll get a truck out to you as soon as we can. You can track your service request on our app.”

Once I hung up, I accessed the app. I blinked. This had to be a mistake. Estimated response time was two hours and eighteen minutes. I had to pee, my stomach was growling, and a storm was about to block what little daylight was left.

I scanned through my contacts. I wasn’t going to ask my dad to drive ninety minutes to come and collect me. The tow truck could be here before him, and he’d still have a ninety-minute drive home. My brother would absolutely leave work to come for me, but I wasn’t his responsibility. This wasn’t an emergency, just an inconvenience.

Holly might answer the phone. But I knew my best friend well, and she wouldn’t hear her phone. She worked at Roosters, an industrial club just outside of town.

“Shit.” The call went straight to voicemail. I left a short message and followed up with a quick text, too.

I’d rather drown than reach an arm out for help from anyone in Jeff’s family. I didn’t need to see blood in the water to know the sharks were circling.

I pushed the start button on my car again and again, but nothing happened. I banged my hand on the steering wheel. I wasn’t going to cry. Deep breath. Count to four. Exhale. Two hours was just an estimate.

I reclined my seat enough to be comfortable, and I closed my eyes.

“Jeff, I know I said I hated you, but I brought you a donut. Asshole.” This was part of my therapy. I blamed every shitty thing that happened on Jeff, and every rainbow, every beautiful sunset, every butterfly and hummingbird were gifts from Matti.

A few minutes later, a headlight shined through the interior darkness. A single light wouldn’t be a tow truck. I grabbed my phone and checked the app but there wasn’t an update.

A knock sounded on my driver’s window. I snapped my gaze to the left and screamed.

The man stepped back and raised his hands. Then he bent lower and glanced into my vehicle.