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“I do.” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, extracted a folded, lined square, and handed it to her.
Her gasp was silent as she accepted the list. She unfolded it with caution. “I can’t believe you still have this.”
“Of course I do.” The answer was easy, but I couldn’t explain why I’d kept it all these years. I just knew there was no other option.
The ink was still there, faded but written in her distinct, flowing script. Different items were in different colors, depending on when she’d added them.
“I’m afraid if I look at it too long, it’ll fall apart.” Her voice was soft. “Is it silly that I don’t want it to fall apart?”
“Not at all.” I smoothed it out gently, snapped a few pictures with my phone, so we could reference it without tearing the original. “Do you want to hold onto it?”
She patted her dress. “No pockets.” She frowned. “No ID. No money. No shoes…”
“We can go pick it all up.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t face that place. Not yet. The hotel or the house.”
I refolded the list as delicately as I could and put it back in my wallet, then patted the outside of Megan’s thigh. “Straighten on the bike.”
She twisted back into place, and I half drove, half walked the bike to the drugstore next door. I ducked inside and grabbed her shoes, or rather, the closest thing I could find—flip-flops. I hated to have her wearing open-toed on the bike, but it was better than nothing.
When I emerged again, Megan was staring at her hands. She looked up. “You’re right, we should do this.” There was a waver in her voice, and I almost expected her to take it back as soon as she said it.
No reason to give her that chance. “Where do you want to start?” I cut the plastic tie holding the sandals together and crouched at her feet, to slide the shoes on her one at a time.
“We should start simple and work our way up. Maybe… number 37.” She must remember the list better than she said, if she could pluck numbers out of thin air like that.
I was pretty sure which item that was, but I checked the pictures I’d just taken anyway. The text next to the37simply saidOld Barn. There was an abandoned barn on the side of the freeway, not far from where we were now. It had been there for decades, at least since we were in high school. Back then, every time we’d drive by one of us would say that someday we should figure out how to get to the building, and see what was inside, or at least take pictures.
“What do you want to do there?” I had a few ideas over the years that varied depending on if she and I were dating each other or other people, but this seemed like not the best day to suggest at least half of them.
She scrunched up her face. “Not sure yet. Let’s see if we can find out how to get to it, first, then go from there.”
“I’m in. Let’s go.”
The barn was still there, more than twenty years later. Run down, but no more than I’d ever seen it, and sitting in the middle of a field, off the freeway. We took the closest exit, and followed a series of winding, barely-there roads. We had to backtrack a few times, but when we pulled up in front of the barn, I shut off the engine. Megan's faint laugh of satisfaction was worth it.
And I knew what we needed to do. “We should take pictures of you and your newly discovered freedom.”
Megan’s expression faltered.
I should’ve phrased that differently.
“I love it.” Megan landed on a smile.
Grabbing my camera, we made our way to the building. Outside was boarded up and covered with spray painted words and symbols. In her cut and torn dress, the wind whipping through her mussed hair, Megan was the perfect dystopian princess for this setting.
Even her smile was sad. I needed to find a way to change that, if only for a minute or two. “Do you want to see what’s inside?”
“Of course.”
The door was open a few feet, enough for people to fit through but not much else. I grabbed the edge and pulled outward. Nothing happened. I tugged harder and the hinges creaked, but it still didn’t move.
No big deal. We only needed the two of us inside. I walked in first, to make sure everything looked in order. Wildflowers and crabgrass grew on the floor of the barn, and there were as many holes above us as there was roof. The damage must’ve happened years ago, though, because the debris of rotted wood and tin shingles was pushed into piles at the edges of the room.
“It’s clear,” I said. “Watch your dress.”
Megan pulled her butchered skirt closer, and stepped inside to join me. “It’s exactly like I imagined, but better.” Awe filled her voice. She moved closer to the middle of the barn, trailing her fingers over the taller flowers, the sunlight catching the hints of amber in her hair.
