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"I can't take your money." I push the money toward her chest, and she pushes right back.
"Yes, you can, and you will." She grabs my hand, forcing my fingers around the crunchy bills. "I'm going to take care of Neil, and then I'm going home. I can call my parents and they can send me some money to get me home.” She takes a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears. “I know your family isn’t as wealthy. So, please, go home, and don't come back."
My fingers squeeze, clutching the bills. I shove the money into my bra, my cheeks damp with tears and my fingers shaky. I look at her, the words forming around my tongue, yet I’m unable to say them. I'll be forever grateful to her, and for some reason, I don't think I'll ever see her again.
"Thank you," I whisper.
She smiles, tears springing to her eyes. "It was fun, wasn't it? We had fun?"
"We had so much fun." I wrap her in my arms, pulling her against me. She comes willingly, her arms cinching around my ribs and squeezing tight.
"I wish Shauna would've made it home," she cries.
I step back and wipe my face, feeling my heart in my throat. Shauna was a good girl. She didn't deserve what happened to her.
"Me too."
"Well, I guess this is it." She turns around, pressing her hands against the sink. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, at our skin that feels permanently peppered with flakes of sand. Both of our hair is braided down our backs, since there isn't much else to do. Our clothes are faded and threadbare from the sun, and our eyes look like they've lived one million lives.
I have lived one million lives.
"This is it." I clench my hands at my sides, feeling like there's so much to say, but not sure how to say it. I don't know how to tell her how much her friendship has meant to me during some of my darkest days, how much I'm going to miss her. Saying what's written in my heart feels like an injustice in the emergency room bathroom, so I decide to say nothing at all.
"Goodbye, Luna." Her eyes lift to my face, watery as she glances at me.
"Goodbye." I turn on my feet, leaving her in the bathroom and walking back through the door. I stop, peaking around the corner, glancing out at the waiting room. I see the Willie's back turned, his blond hair dirty and messy as it falls along the back of his chair. His head is tilted toward the nurse’s station, as if he is sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for any type of news.
I take this as my cue, rushing in the opposite direction toward the doors. They automatically slide open as I walk up to them, and I run out, across the grass and away from the hospital. I end up back where the sign was and stop on the corner, bending down with my hands on my knees as I take in gasping breaths.
This is it. I'm going home.
I start running again, the soles of my bare feet slapping across the hot pavement as I make my way to the airport. People stop and stare at me, wondering why a girl is running barefoot through the city. I pay them no attention, excitement coursing through my veins at the thought of finally going home.
A part of me is glad I started this journey, but another part of me wishes I never would've left in the first place.
I get to the airport, cars and taxis and so many people walking about. Suitcases roll on the ground, and tears spring to my eyes as reality hits me.
There's no turning back now.
I walk into the airport, my skirt whooshing between my legs. The air conditioner blasts through the vents, and goosebumps break out along my arms. I rub my hands up and down my biceps, warming my skin as I get in line.
Slipping the money from my bra, I flatten it all out the best I can, just as the person in front of me walks away with a ticket.
"Next," the lady behind the desk says, barely looking up from her computer.
I take a step forward, placing my money on the counter and sliding it toward her. "I'd like a ticket home."
She looks up, staring at me.
Oh, right."To Wisconsin. I'd like to buy a ticket to Wisconsin."
She blinks at me. "Which airport, ma'am? There are multiple airports in Wisconsin."
"Anyone. The soonest one you have available." I push the money toward her further, and she looks up at me this time, taking me in.
Her eyes travel from my dark, messy hair, all the way down to my bare stomach. It's like she can read my story in my appearance, and her face softens. "Let me see what I can do."
She clicks on her keyboard, her fingernails making the keys clack extra loudly. It feels like it takes her forever, her alternating between clicking with her mouse and clicking with her keyboard.
