“Oh, Vance.” I move toward him but he holds a hand out to the side, stopping me.
“Please. Don’t.” He’s pensive for a bit, his chest rising and falling on several heavy breaths. “I used to see her every day. Now we’re several hours away and it’s really hard. This whole fucking thing is so damn hard. We were close, you know? I’m a grown man but I feel like a fucking child who wants their mother back.”
I realize he doesn’t want me to touch him, but I edge closer as if I’m approaching a skittish animal and speak quietly. “I’m sorry.”
If Vance hears me, he doesn’t acknowledge it, because he keeps talking. “So you see, you can’t talk to her about her painting because she doesn’t remember she painted it. She doesn’t even know that she could paint at one time.”
Wetness builds in the corner of my eyes as something inside of me shatters. I think about sculpting—about not remembering something that is so much a part of me. Most of all, I think about Zack. The thought of not being able to remember him makes me physically ill, as do the words I said to Vance about wishing I didn’t remember. Now I understand his intense reaction. Being unable to remember. I’m not sure there is anything worse.
“Vance… I’m so, so, sorry.”
His head moves up and down and he sniffs. He’s trying hard to hold it together. I wonder if he understands how brave he is. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
“That’s where you were going. Wasn’t it?” I step in front of him, blocking his view and forcing him to look at me. “Let me take you to her. Please.”
Defeat crumples his posture as his weary eyes meet mine. He sighs hard. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Hey.” My tone softens. “I want to. I bet she’d love to have those flowers. They’re beautiful.”
He glances over his shoulder to the car. “They were her favorite.”
“Come on.” I offer my hand and he stares at it for several long beats. His struggle is palpable and I can’t bear it. I allow my hand to fall, letting him off the hook. The sharing of his pain is probably all he can handle at this point.
He follows behind me to the car and we climb inside. “Hey, Ember.”
I check my side mirror, easing onto the highway. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
EXHAUSTION SETTLES INTO my bones. Saying the words aloud to Ember took everything I had. I’ve never shared that with anyone before. Still, I didn’t feel like I could keep it from her. It felt wrong in some way. Maybe because she’s so damn honest. Maybe because of her brother. Whatever the reason, the burden is lighter and I feel less alone.
Several minutes into the ride, her calm voice falls onto my ears. “You okay?” I appreciate that she doesn’t harass me for information I’m unwilling or not ready to give. She accepts what I have to offer. I find that to be a rare quality.
“Hanging in.”
Eventually, she veers off into a service station. As she pulls up to the pump, I reach for my wallet and take out two twenties. I hold them out to her but she pushes them away. “Nope. Don’t think so. I’m good.”
“I’d like to help pay for gas.”
She pats the dashboard three times. “This old baby is great on gas, so don’t worry about it. Pushing the door open, she slides out of the car but hangs her head back in. “You want anything inside?”
“Maybe some mints?”
Fifteen minutes later when there is still no sign of her and I’m ready to call out The National Guard, she finally emerges.
“What the hell, Mickey?” I growl through her window as she lifts the pump. “I was getting ready to call the police.”
“If you must know,” she smiles, “I was browsing.”
I gesture toward the small run-down shop. “Browsing? At a gas station?”
“Yes. And you’ll be happy I did. Here.” She tosses one of those sample size Crest toothpastes and a travel toothbrush onto the seat along with a roll of mints and a package of Twinkies. “They were the only ones that didn’t seem stale and I remember Julian said you’re into junk food.”
“Thanks,” I reply, stunned she picked my favorite. “And toothpaste, too?” I lift the tube near my mouth with a strained grin. “Trying to tell me something?”
“No. Actually,” she clarifies, her expression awkward, “I thought maybe you’d want to clean your mouth, is all. After, you know….”
“I know.” I cringe, realizing she saw me hurl all over the highway. “Thanks.”
Nothing else is said the remainder of the trip, but it’s not uncomfortable. I’ve wandered back to the hell that is my mind while Ember hums to herself, the music playing softly in the background.