I pulled out my phone and silently groaned at the time.
It was only 8:15 p.m., and I had no more alarms set for the day. Nowhere to be. Nowhere to go.
I couldn’t stomach lying on that couch and wallowing in leftover feelings, so I slipped on my shoes and eased out of the apartment, keeping my head down as I went. The sun had set over an hour ago, so there wasn’t much to see outside the windows that lined the dim hallway, anyway. I took the stairs down to the first floor, the burn in my thighs from the stairs a much better pain.
My stomach growled as I breezed by the cafeteria, but I ignored it, buzzing myself into the life skills room.
Zinnia House had a lot of common spaces on the first floor that all residents of Live Oak could use. There was a cinema room, a large rec room, multiple therapy suites, a gym, and this room, the life skills room.
I walked straight to the Cadillac that was parked in the middle of the room. It had looked great in that brochure but was even better in person.
I opened the door softly, slid inside, and took a deep breath. It even had that new car smell.
I buckled my seat belt before leaning back against the leather seat, thinking back to the first time I’d retreated into here. It felt like the end of the world then, but little didI know that I’d claim this spot as my safe space. I might not have had my own bed or my own life, but I had this.
An engineless Cadillac.
During the weekday, the luxury sedan was a rehab option for residents relearning to enter and exit a car safely, especially after strokes.
Most nights, it got me.
I adjusted the rearview mirror as if I was going somewhere and then clicked the largest button on the console touch screen.
A beam of light shot from the projector mounted on the roof onto the huge screen in front of the car as I selected my destination.
One more click, and soft music streamed in from the car’s radio.
The projector’s image flickered before the scene settled, and I collapsed back into the seat and prepared for a long ride through winding roads.
In the driver’s seat of a car to nowhere, I chased a faraway sunset over distant shores.
3
ADAIR
“Ican’t believe you’re getting out of the car looking like that.”
Delly’s gaze swept over me from where she stood outside my open door, and she scrunched her nose when she got to my face, which was pretty rude, but I tried to not take offense. “And with your hair just….” She waved her hand at me and presumably my hair, which, admittedly, was longer than it’d ever been. “And the baby beard?”
I smiled broadly at my little sister as I got out of the driver’s side, then waved my tightly wrapped foot at her, gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain.
It shouldn’t be hurting anymore. Not so many weeks later. But nothing was going to stop me from spending time with Delly today, and I felt confident enough driving.
“That’s it, Delly?” I asked, glad my voice came out normal. “I need a haircut, a shave, and a more masculine bandage wrap with, what? Skulls and flames? Maybe you can bedazzle it for me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me ‘Delly’ in front of my classmates. I’m ‘Adeline’ here. And it was aphase.”
“One of many,” I said with a smile, pushing my hair out of my face.
She didn’t return it, though. Her gaze zeroed in on the fresh scar that was usually hidden by my hair. “Don’t ever go hiking again, Addy. Promise me right now.”
I turned from her to open the back door and grab my crutch from the back seat, shielding what was for sure a guilty expression. Once I got it under my arm, I hobbled over to my sister, crushing her into a hug. Despite her squeak of protest, she hugged me back tightly.
“I’m okay. Everything’s okay,” I said to the top of her head, which just barely reached my chin. Then I rubbed my new beard against her, making her shriek in protest and pull away.
“Gross!” She scrunched her nose again. “I’m glad you’re not allowed to have that for work. Let’s not make it permanent.”
I snorted at her and gestured to the huge dorm building. “Let’s go get your things, sassy pants.”
