She turns in her seat, arm out the window. “I don't fly, Dim.”
“I don't dump dead kittens on the side of the road, either, Silv. We're both doing new things on this trip.”
She glares at me, but I pretend to ignore her.
Eventually, she flicks her cigarette out the window and settles back into her seat. “I want a soda.”
I glance at the dash clock and do a quick calculation. “We have fourteen hours before our flight boards, and we're heading into Greensboro now. We'll stop at the first gas station.”
She doesn't reply, but lights up again.
Greensboro is another green and clear place, like Danville. Just much larger.
I pull into a convenience store parking lot. “Get me a Mountain Dew.”
She nods and slides out of the car. I watch as she trots into the store, then I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket to read the text message.
I want to move to Italy.
I stare at the message, trying to decipher if Syd is joking, serious, or just trying to get a reaction. I'll bite.
I text, You won't miss me?
She replies, You could come with me. I hear the Mafia is hiring.
I grin. Working for the mob would be better than my current gig, and I've seen The Godfather and all of The Sopranos.
I type, I have a better idea. Stay put, and we'll talk about it over wine tomorrow evening.
In a few minutes, she replies, You're coming home?
Yes, flight leaves in the morning.
She replies, I'll wait for you then, Dionysus.
Who the hell is this Dionysus? I do a quick search on my phone, then grin. Dionysus. Greek god of wine. I'm pretty sure there were cooler gods, but I'll take it.
I put my phone down and lean back to close my eyes again. Syd is waiting for me at home. I can't imagine a better feeling. It lulls me into sleep.
I jar awake, grabbing the wheel. Then I realize I'm still parked. Silvia isn't back yet.
“What the frack?” I grumble, stepping out of the car.
She is going to be the death of me, sooner or later.
I rub my hand over my face as I head into the convenience store. The door chimes my entrance, and I gaze over the room.
No Silvia.
I stab her name on my phone contact list and scowl as I listen to the rings.
She picks up on the fifth. “Go away, Dim.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I sound angry, because I am.
“I'm not flying,” she says with that tone reserved for the Walkers.
“Where are you?”
She hangs up.
I stare down at my phone, then growl and storm back out to my car. If I know Silvia, she's heading west with some vague notion that she will, eventually, wind up in Phoenix.
I am correct. She's three blocks away, strolling like her destination is a corner cafe.
Karl should have left her to the coyotes.
I slow the car to follow next to her and roll down the window. “You know maps are to scale, right?”
“Shut up, Dimitri.”
“So you gonna rent a car and drive back to Phoenix?”
She shrugs and keeps walking.
“Get in.” I take a glance at my surroundings. “Last warning.”
She juts her chin and doesn't slow as she steps into the crosswalk.
I swing the car around, burst out, and have her down and shackled in the backseat before her scream even finishes. She chokes in surprise.
I slide into the car, slamming the door shut, and hit the gas.
“Let me out of these!” She beats her fists against the back of the driver seat.
“Not a chance. I don't care so much about bringing you home in one piece, but your dad probably does.”
She says with the edge of a growl, “That's all you ever care about.”
“That's all I'm allowed to care about.” I tap my finger to my temple. “He's a very demanding boss.”
She huffs and throws herself back into the seat. “I know he is, but you always take it out on me. None of this is my fault.”
“That's a typical—” I catch myself and close my mouth. Maybe it is a typical thing for a Walker to say, but it might also be true. At least this time. Silvia didn't have any more say being born into the master bond than I did getting the less coveted role. Neither of us did anything, and that is the whole problem. I sigh. “No, this wasn't your doing, but you could acknowledge you were dealt the better cards.”
She remains silent. I glance at her in the rear view mirror. She's sulking, but I hope, at least for a minute, she's trying to wrap her brain around what I'm telling her.
At length, I say, “You've made it loud and clear I will still be property. I get it. I'm just asking for you to stop acting like you earned this, because you didn't. We both were born into a weird situation, and you got the better deal. You don't have to pretend to regret it. Just don't pretend like you're entitled to it.”
We reach the airport. I find a secluded place to unlock her shackles before parking. Inside the terminal, I print the tickets, check our luggage, and lead her to our gate. The whole time, she remains quiet, but there's a strange look on her face. I think it's humility.
***