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Both laugh, but Gretel feels herself unraveling with desire just at the thought.
"We could leave it in one of the first streets of the southern industrial estate and walk to the main road. There's a bar on the other side; we can get a taxi there," Abigail suggests. "No security cameras in those industrial estate streets, in case you're wondering. Mostly empty warehouses up for sale."
"And what if there's private security? What if they make rounds and see us ditching it?" Gretel questions.
"No private security. I've been to that estate several times for business. It's newly built, and there aren't many companies yet. Until they're more, sharing costs, they stick with their own private alarms."
"Alright then," Gretel agrees, and they take an exit to turn around and head towards the industrial estate.
"Are you sure you want to go to a hotel?" Abigail asks, glancing sideways at Gretel.
"Well, I think it'll be more comfortable than a car," Gretel hesitates, feeling stifled.
"I don't mean that. I mean, we can go to my place if you want."
"Ah..." Gretel falls silent, realizing she doesn't have a home to return to at least not one she wants to go back to.
She's surprised at how much she has managed to disconnect from her problem beside Abigail. Her original plan was to go out, drown her sorrows with some alcohol, and then figure out what to do with her life. She's done the first part, or not even that, because ever since meeting the executive, her issues with Pol have become less important. Abigail has a numbing effect on her that seems impossible, yet it's true. With her, Gretel feels calm yet capable of conquering the world and doing all the things she avoided to please her family.
"If you prefer the hotel, that's fine," Abigail adds, a bit annoyed by Gretel's sudden silence.
By now, both women think with absolute clarity, aware that whatever they decide won't be attributed to the effects of alcohol. The buzz has long worn off perhaps due to the initial adrenaline rush or the scare of seeing the police at the gas station.
"Your place is fine. I was just pondering the fact that I haven't thought about what to do from now on. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and I'll have to decide whether I continue sharing a roof with my soon-to-be ex-husband until we finalize the divorce and figure out what to do with the apartment, or if I go with my brother until everything is resolved."
"Is the apartment jointly owned?" Abigail asks, signaling for a turn.
"Yes."
"Well, then let him go. After all, he's the one who ended the relationship, right?"
Gretel looks at her, furrowing her brow, nodding mechanically. Abigail is right; he's the culprit and the one who should leave.
"Yes," she concludes, falling into thought.
"I get that you're overwhelmed. I've witnessed that process twice with one of my brothers, and it's tough. You can stay at my place for a few days until you figure things out. I guess right now, you don't really feel like seeing him."
"Wouldn't you mind having me there? We just met," Gretel asks, surprised by the invitation.
"We committed a crime together and are heading to my place because we're dying to keep going at it. I can't think of anything more intimate than that."
"You're right," Gretel agrees, not quite accustomed to Abigail's straightforward logic.
"We're adults, and I believe we're smart enough to coexist civilly for a few days. My house is big, and I work twelve-hour days; we'll barely see each other."
Gretel doesn't know exactly why she accepts the offer, but she does. She'd rather spend a few days at the home of a woman who has become her confidante, partner in crime, and lover in a matter of hours than remain under the same roof as Pol or land at her brother's place, subjected to the third degree from him, his wife, and their parents when they find out she's left home. They'll do it without considering how little she wants to talk about something she hasn't fully processed yet.
"Thanks. I promise you won't even notice I'm there. I just need a few days to clear my head. Tomorrow, I'll stop by my place to grab some clothes, and on Monday, I'll take a few days off work. I need to disconnect from everything to think."
"I understand. Do what you need to; it'll be like living alone, you'll see."
Gretel senses a hint of sadness in Abigail's voice and empathizes, putting herself in her shoes and imagining how she'd feel if, after working twelve-hour days without anyone in her family appreciating her efforts, she arrived at an empty, vast house where no one was waiting for her.
Unaware, they arrive at the industrial estate Abigail mentioned. Despite the seriousness of their conversation, neither has changed their minds about the plan for a night of unrestrained passion.
Abigail parks on a street just behind some trash containers. She turns to Gretel, who looks at her with a fervor that makes her whole body tingle. Abigail is in a hurry to get to the bar, call a taxi, and strip the curious woman of her clothes.
"Come on, let's go."
