“We’re not doing anything else.”
“We’re running away from my psycho father.”
“You can joke all you want, but I know you’re upset.”
She puts down her phone. “Why couldn’t he be normal? He didn’t have to be perfect, you know? I just wanted a dad.”
“I’m really sorry it didn’t work out like you hoped. I wanted that for you too. It’s one of the reasons I stayed with him for so long.”
She lets out her breath in a heavy sigh and leans back against the seat. “You must think I’m really stupid for falling for his lies.”
“Not at all.” I touch her hand so that she turns to face me. “I know how charming he can be. I married him, remember?”
“Yeah, what you were you thinking?” She gives me a look.
“I was thinking I might get a great daughter out of the deal.” I smile.
She stares out the window and fiddles with her phone case. “What are we going to do tomorrow? I don’t want to sit around being scared all day.”
“How about we visit some art galleries?”
“Okay, and maybe we can go downtown.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
The parking lights flash from a car at the beginning of the line. Finally we’re loading. We wait on the vehicle deck until the ferry pulls away from the terminal, then we weave between the cars and walk to the side of the boat, hanging our heads out the large open windows. The salty wind plays with our hair as we watch the harbor lights grow smaller behind us, then disappear.
We arrive at Jenny’s exhausted from the stress of the day and the boat ride. Chris called when we were unloading from the ferry—I’d left him a message earlier, but he was working late. His girlfriend said he’s been putting in some extra hours, trying to save up before the baby comes. When I told him about Greg being injured, I had to hold the phone away from my ear, he was swearing so much. After a bit he calmed down and said, “Come stay with us.”
“It would be too much for Maddie. You need to focus on your family.”
“You are my family, dumbass.”
“I’ll be fine in Vancouver. I promise.”
“You better be.”
The words sounded ominous, but I know the threat isn’t aimed at me. I’m glad Chris has Maddie and the baby in his life, or I would be worried about him confronting Andrew. I called most of my clients while we were waiting in the ferry lineup and explained that a sudden emergency has come up and rearranged the schedule so Rachelle could cover my jobs.
I wasn’t sure how things were between me and Marcus since our awkward good-bye the other morning, so I texted him: Have to get out of town. Will call you later and explain.
He texted back. Everything okay?
Not really but we’re all right. I’ll fill you in soon.
Sophie goes to bed with her phone, and Jenny and I stay up late, talking over wine while Angus keeps us company. We’re in our comfy clothes—leggings and slouchy sweater for me, yoga pants and a NAMASTE T-shirt for her. She’s been teaching yoga and her arms are sinewy, her movements almost ballet-languid. I’m enjoying the time with my friend, if not the reason for the visit. We’ve had a few glasses of wine and my face feels warm. Jenny’s is also flushed, her eyes brighter, her voice louder. Our serious conversation turns to bawdy jokes and black humor about the state of our love lives. She’s been trying Tinder, shows me how to swipe right, and I help her pick out some new photos for her profile. After midnight she urges me to get some rest.
“This mess will all still be here tomorrow and you need some sleep,” she says. “I’ll make breakfast. You’re starting to look like a bag of bones.”
“Gee. Thanks a lot.”
She gives me a wink. “I’d still jump you.”
I laugh. “Times that tough, huh?”
Her expression turns serious. “I’m sorry he’s putting you through all of this again.”
I lean over and give her a hug. “Thank you.”
It’s only six in the morning, but I’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour and finally decide to get up and make coffee. I pour a cup, pause for a moment, then add two heaping tablespoons of sugar. I need the jolt. My eyes feel puffy and I’m sure I look like hell. Sophie is still sleeping, but Jenny will probably bounce out of her room soon and offer to make me a spinach power smoothie, or a flaxseed pancake, or something else guaranteed to give me energy. I scroll through my Facebook news feed, mindlessly reading celebrity gossip.
A text pops up from Marcus. Give me a call when you can. Worried about you!
You up now?
Yes!
I grab another cup of coffee and dial his number. He answers immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t call last night,” I say. “I was exhausted.”
“What happened?”
“A truck hit Greg when he was shoveling the driveway. He didn’t see who did it, but I think it was Andrew.”