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“Are gloves another sensory thing?”
Brow knitting, I turn my head. “Huh?”
He shrugs a shoulder, not taking his eyes off the road. “You know. Like the fruit thing.” My face flushes at the memory, and if I’m not mistaken he sinks a little lower in his seat. “You didn’t really mention touch at the time—like textures and shit—so I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh, um, yeah,” I say slowly, frowning as I try to find the right words to explain it. “Well, no, it depends, I guess. Sometimes I can’t wear them at all. I don’t like feeling like I can’t use my hands. And then if my skin is dry, it feels all scratchy, and…” My voice fades, my cheeks heating.
“That makes sense.”
I cut him a glance through the corner of my eye. “Yeah?”
He nods and flashes me a small smile. “Yeah.”
Rolling my lips together, I turn toward the window, watching the world blur past outside. It’s darker out here without anything but his headlights to show us where we’re going.
“So who were those people you walked out with? I know the one was the bartender—I never caught his name—and the girl was a dancer, right?”
I nod. “Micah and Zelda.”
“You close?”
“Yeah, I’ve been staying with them.”
He hums. “You’ll have to tell me how that all came about.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny how it happened,” I say softly, my brain traveling back to that pretty awful day. But at least one good thing came out of it.
“Do you…like it? Working there.”
I consider this for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. It’s…safe. Everyone’s so nice and welcoming. They don’t treat me any differently than they would anybody else.”
He’s silent for a long moment, then, “Is…is that something you’ve still struggled with? Being treated…differently?”
“No…not like how it used to be. But it’s still better here than it was back in Indiana. I feel more…me here. Like I can be me.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, “Can I ask what happened with your parents? After you got home from Black Diamond, I mean.”
Pinning my lip between my teeth, I nod. “Sure. I actually ended up staying at Black Diamond for another eight weeks after you left. It was the only way I could transfer to the mental health program, and I don’t know, I guess after you were gone, I just…I realized how much I was still sort of running from. Stuff I never dealt with.” I pause. “Plus, I think it went a long way with getting my parents to back off a little.”
“That’s…that’s really good. I’m proud of you.”
Turning, I peek up at him through my hair. “Thanks. It was good for me. I’m glad I did it. I don’t know… I don’t know if I’d be here, if I didn’t.”
He stiffens at that and I quickly backtrack. “I mean in Vermont.”
“Oh,” he breathes, slumping. “Sorry, I thought—”
“I know. But don’t worry, it’s…it’s been a long time since I felt like that.”
He simply nods.
“Plus, I made you a promise.”
Wincing, he says, “Right.”
“And unlike you, I keep mine.”
His gaze snaps to mine, but I quickly look away, returning to our previous conversation.
