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Sighing, I take it off my wrist and grab my phone. It can’t be that late, right? I press the power button and try to turn it on, but it vibrates in my hands and nothing happens.
I try to make the screen come alive, but once again, nothing happens. Sighing, I stick it back into my pocket. I gave up smoking years ago, but even then, I pat myself down to look for one. It’s annoying that I don’t even carry a vape pen around anymore.
I pat myself down as if that’s going to make a difference at all. Of course, I don’t find anything. I could walk around the property to find Trine’s bandmates and see if they wouldn’t mind sharing their weed, but I don’t want to intrude, and they obviously have a lot to talk about.
I lean against a thick tree trunk outside. I don’t know when the last time that it rained was but it’s covered in dew, which sticks to my clothes. I feel dirty and there’s nothing I can do that’ll make me feel less dirty. Brushing myself off is useless.
I don’t even look up when I hear someone coming toward me. From the sound of their steps, I know it’s not Trine, and I think I would only even acknowledge her.
“Hey,” Woods says.
He has his hands in his pockets. I nod at him but say nothing as he approaches me.
“Stifling in there,” he says. “That room is so tiny.”
I crack a smile.
“I can hardly breathe,” he says.
I shake my head. “Really. I’ve never been anywhere smaller,” I say. “It’s really sad how some people live.”
He smiles back at me. “How are you holding up, really?”
I resist the urge to shake my head again. Barely. “Don’t. I can’t afford your psychiatric services.”
He doesn’t smile at that. “Seriously.”
Okay, so I guess we’re doing this. “Do I look that bad?”
“I don’t think any one of us is doing particularly well at this point,” he says. He stands next to me, leaning back on the trunk, looking up at the trees. “Except Malon, I guess, but I don’t think he counts.”
“He doesn’t.”
He watches me for a few seconds before he speaks. “We’re pulling the plug, aren’t we?”
I sigh. “I think so,” I reply. “I just don’t know what else we can do.”
I expect him to tell me I’m being crazy or try to give me a pep talk about staying and helping her out. He doesn’t do any of those things. He folds his arms over his chest, his shoulders dropping. “I think you’re right,” he says.
I look up at him, waiting for him to say something else.
“I wish I could say something different, but I can’t,” he continues. “Trine has made a choice. We can’t just hover around her, waiting for her to change her mind.”
“Even if this is going to kill her eventually?”
“Maybe it won’t,” he says. “Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe she’ll be fine and we’re worrying about nothing.”
“Do you think we’re worrying about nothing?”
“No. I think we have plenty of reasons to worry,” he replies. “I think it would be foolish not to be concerned. Stupid, even.”
“But you still think we should go.”
“Not exactly,” he says. “I think we have no choice but to go.”
“What if we’re wrong? What if she needs us?”
“Then we can only hope she calls,” he says, shrugging. “Look, I don’t want to be far away from Trine either. I think this sucks. But we have to continue our work. Let’s say that she’s not okay. She knows she can call us.”
