“What do you mean?”
I clamp my lips together. That wasn’t supposed to come out. But he’s done so much for me. And he’s suffered for mine and Bertha’s sake. I feel like he’s earned it.
“My mom and I were homeless once.” My voice is quiet. I watch the mile markers tick by, giving them more focus than I should. “She used to spend all our money out on the town looking for a new man. Grandma took care of us and never let us fall behind on the rent money, but six months after she passed, Mom forgot, and we had nothing left. She tried to steal my bracelet multiple times and pawn it for money.” I swallow the lump in my throat. I ended up hiding it in my bra for a month to keep it safe. “We went back and forth, sleeping in a park or a shelter for a couple of weeks.”
A shudder overtakes my body and I try hard to suppress it, but it doesn’t work. Trent tugs on my fingers, one by one, easing the death grip I have on the middle console. He slips his fingers through mine, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive skin on my wrist, brushing my bracelet as he does. It gives me the courage to finish the story.
“She left me alone in the park one night. A man asked me my name, just my name. But I knew what happened on the streets. I freaked out and just ran. I ran all night. I’ve never been more afraid in my life.” I can still feel the terror from that night, of never knowing when or where or if I’d ever be safe again.
A few months later I found Juliet and we became friends. Every time the landlord threatened to evict my mother after that I had a plan. I kept a Go Bag and knew the way to Juliet’s house no matter where my mom dragged me across the city. Juliet became my safety until her parents split up and her mom moved to Phoenix at the end of her senior year. As soon as I could after graduation, I followed her there.
Trent squeezes my hand and I realize I’ve been lost in my thoughts.
I clear my throat. “When I moved out, I promised myself I’d never be in such a vulnerable position again. I bought Bertha the first chance I could, so if I ever turned into my mother, at least I’d never be homeless.”
Darkness has fallen, taking over the van, as well as my memories. I don’t like to relive the past. I like to bravely tackle the present while simultaneously praying I don’t destroy my future.
“No child should ever have to experience that. Your mother should have cared more about protecting you than her own whims. I’m sorry you were the only one you could ever depend on. But if there’s one thing you never have to worry about, it’s turning into her. You are selfless and kind, the woman your mom should have been.”
I’m crying. I’m not sure when it started.
“You will never be her,” he says again.
I want to believe every word coming out of his mouth. Screw it, I do. I believe him. Trent has never been anything but honest with me. He’s not saying this to make me happy or comfort me. He’s telling the truth. But accepting that is going to take time.
We don’t talk for a long while. We just hold hands, allowing the silence to speak for us mile after mile.
I have no idea how long we’ve been sitting like this when Trent leans forward, his posture rigid. “What was that?”
“What was what?” I glance in the rearview mirror. Did I pass something important?
“There was a weird noise. There. Did you hear it?” He pulls his hand away, forcing me to pay attention to whatever it is he’s hearing.
I wait, listening.Kathunk.Kathunk.
I’m sure it’s nothing. “I probably hit something. Once a squirrel got stuck in the wheel well. It rode with me for miles. I thought it was dead, but when I went to poke it, it jumped out. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but he was fine.”
Trent blinks in response to my rambling. “This doesn’t sound like an animal. It sounds like the engine.”
Psh.“This is Bertha we are talking about. Her engine will last longer than mine.”
These catastrophic words are punctuated with a deafening boom. Smoke seeps in from the vents.
“Get off the road!” Trent shouts.
I roll down my window instead. “It’s fine. We can ride it out. She does this sometimes.”
“Karli.” He grabs my arm, and I catch the panic in his eyes. “This is not me being an overprotective jerk. You need to pull over.”
“So dramatic,” I murmur, but the sliver of worry growing in my stomach causes me to flick on my blinker and maneuver to the side of the road.
The second we come to a complete stop, Trent is out of the van.
Someone’s a little nervous Nellie.
I expect him to go to the hood, but instead, he rounds the van and throws open my door.
“Why are you sitting there? Get out!”
