“No. No. Thank you.”
“I can’t believe what happened in there. And that woman Alice Sullivan… what did you talk about? On a scale of one to a hundred, how pissed was she?” Deja continued talking a thousand words a minute. “It’s kinda like Amazon reviews though. If someone gives it one star—”
“Gives what one star?”
“Anything. A blanket that looks like a tortilla. Taxidermized bat. And someone gives it one star and they’re like, this is the worst thing ever. You know they’re probably just mad at their life, but if they give it a three, then maybe you believe them. So do you think she was one star angry or three stars angry?”
“Probably one star.”
“Not your fault then. She’s just angry at her life.”
Because I ruined it.
Kia pulled out her phone. Interspersed with sponsors were texts from her people, starting with her cousin Lillian.
Lillian:Congrats on the sale, right?
She’d sent that several hours earlier, before Kia had gone into the grange hall.
From her aunt Eleanor she’d gotten a perfectly punctuated text telling her that Eleanor was proud of her and Kia’s father would be too as soon as he sailed close enough to land to get cell phone reception again and heard about the sale.
Eleanor:Also, don’t hesitate to call your father on the emergency radio; I know it’s for emergencies. However, I think this counts as a happy emergency; he would be delighted to hear you won the American Fare Award and are entering the landowning class.
So much punctuation.
Me’Shell wasn’t as optimistic.
Me’Shell:How’d it go? I’m looking for your post????
Me’Shell:You haven’t posted. Did the sale go through. We’re in Wyoming right now. We should still come right? I don’t think we can afford the gas to get back. Ha ha ha HA
Me’Shell:But for real what’s goin on
Gretchen texted,I heard. Call me now.Kia couldn’t debrief with Gretchen. Sullivan’s tears had robbed Kia of words.
Portland blurred by outside the truck’s window, rainy and dark. The traffic lurched. The highway backed up like rush hour even though it was after eight p.m. Everyone said Portland had gotten too big for its infrastructure. Too many people wanted to call this rainy, green city home.
“So what do you think?” Deja asked. “What are you going todo?”
It took Kia a moment to realize that Deja had stopped talking long enough to wait for an answer.
“Leave town I guess.” Sometimes her life felt like driving on an empty freeway with no landmarks and no GPS to tell her if she’d ever reach home.
“I mean about Alice Sullivan,” Deja prompted.
“Fuck. Nothing, I guess.” Kia leaned the side of her head against the window. Rain and city lights hit the window.
“But she’s totally into you.”
Please don’t let Deja be writing fan fiction about her love life. (Deja’s fanfic would be Kia’s only love life.)
“And you’ve got tons in common. There’s not much about her online. Nothing recent. She used to be all over the foodie scene, then she kind of disappeared a year or two ago. No social media. My friend Trey isn’t a hacker but—”
Nothing legit started with “isn’t a hacker but.”
“They found out Alice Sullivan owns this fancy eco-restaurant called Mirepoix du Bois. Mirepoix of the woods. She lives on the other side of the Bois.”
“I know.”I wish I didn’t.
