Lily sat down at the table and dropped her head into her hands. “We fucked up.”
I just stared at the door, regretting everything. “No, I did.”
BORN TO RUN
Maggie
I LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW of the plane the next morning, across the tops of the clouds, down at the ground that stretched out in patches cut by roads and rivers. It was hard to grasp just how far away things were, grasp the scale of it all from so high. Everything was distorted by distance, making it feel more familiar than it was. What looked like a tree was really a copse. What looked like a house was a neighborhood.
Distance changed everything. Or at least that was what I was hoping.
I’d waited until Lily was gone, feigning sleep even as I felt her willing me to get up. And once she was gone, I packed my suitcase, wrote a letter to my friends, and took a cab to the shelter. In the wake of the explosion the night before, I texted my phone from Lily’s and received a message back within minutes. One of the kids had taken my bag, hidden it in his parents’ room in the shelter. Everything was intact and in place, and I hung it on my shoulder, feeling like some balance had been restored.
And so I told them I was leaving. Susan assured me that my job would be waiting for me, so long as I could work remotely on lesson plans that another volunteer would implement.
I thought about the letter I’d left on the table, the apology that wouldn’t ever be enough. But it was the best I could do. I couldn’t risk ruining anything else. I’d hurt everyone, exploded everything. Cooper. West. Lily. And there was only thing left to do.
Leave.
So I bought a ticket that cost three times what it should have. I boarded the plane and left the city behind. Left my friends behind. I left Cooper behind.
The clouds in the distance stretched up, casting massive shadows on the ground below. I had tried to read my book, but nothing could hold my attention. I tried to write in an attempt to purge the emotion, but nothing came. So I stared out the window with my earbuds buried in my ears as I watched the world pass by.
The only person I’d spoken to was my father, who had agreed to pick me up at the airport and not to tell West. I didn’t want him to find out until Lily did — after I was long gone.
The plane descended, and I watched the roads and trees below, marveling as they came into focus that they were so much farther away than I’d realized. And we landed and pulled up to the terminal, waiting patiently as the travelers filed out in a stream occasionally broken by someone digging in an overhead compartment. The humidity hit me before I reached the door, nearly swallowed me up as I walked through the ramp and into the terminal.
My father was waiting for me in baggage — I saw him the second I stepped into the room, standing against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He was long and lean, like a blond West with a beard to match, though Daddy’s was more grey than it was blond. He saw me and pushed off the wall, eyes sad behind his thick-framed glasses.
Just the sight of him summoned the tears. I rubbed my nose, hoping I could keep them at bay.
“Hey, baby,” he said as he approached, opening his arms to hug me, and any hope I had was lost.
The tears fell hot and steady as I stood the baggage claim, tucked into my father’s chest as he rocked me gently.
“Shh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
I wanted to believe him more than anything. The worst of it had passed after a minute or two, and I pulled away, sniffling, brushing away tears. “I’m s-sorry.”
He held me at arm’s length, his face soft. “It’s all right. Don’t be sorry.”
“Have you heard from West?”
“Not yet.” He shook his head, not pressing me for more as we walked over to the carousel just as it dinged and began to turn. A bag slid down the metal ramp with a zip and a thump, and everyone converged to the edges of the machine with eager eyes.
I twisted my fingers together. “Thank you. For letting me come home again and all.”
He smiled down at me. “You expected us to turn you away?”
I tried to smile back. “Not exactly. But I know it hasn’t been easy having me popping in and out of your space over the last few months.”
“Your mom and I understand. I’m just glad we can be there to hold you up when you fall. Been doing it since you started walking. Feels just as good to protect you now as it did then.”
I took a deep breath and let it out.
He watched me. “You gonna tell me what this is all about?”
My eyes were on the pile of duffle bags and suitcases heading toward us. “I will.”
“Because it seems it’s more than just a simple visit.”
“Can’t a girl just miss her dad?”
“Oh, sure.” He bobbed his head. “But usually that warrants more than a six hour notice.”
I sighed. “I know. I’m sorry to derail your entire day.”
“Quit apologizing.” My bag rounded the bend, and Dad stepped up to grab it from the carousel. “Come on, kiddo. Your mom’s waiting for us at home. I think she made cookies.”
I laughed. “She would.”
“Yes, she would.”
We walked out of baggage and through the sliding doors, toward the parking lot. “How do you like the new job?”
“It feels good to be doing something productive again, you know? I feel like I’ve just been useless for ages, so going to the shelter and seeing the smiling faces of those kids makes me feel … I don’t know. Needed. Like I was making their lives better, somehow. It made me remember why I loved teaching.”
He smiled down at me. “That right there is why I’m glad you got outta here. You needed that reminder that this isn’t all there is in the world.”
“I only wish I’d gotten the job sooner.”
“And they were okay with you leaving for … how long are you staying?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He nodded. “Well, your room’s still just like you left it. Your mom can’t figure out what she wants to do with it. I think she just doesn’t want to admit that her kids have all left the roost permanently.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “Semi-permanently.”
We reached his vintage truck — a black and grey 1965 Ford F-100 — and he laid my suitcase down in the bed before we climbed in. The old truck rumbled when he started it and backed out of the spot.
We didn’t say much on the way home. I just leaned on the door and watched out the window, everything so familiar. A few weeks hadn’t changed a single thing, but everything was different. We drove into the suburbs, past the big box grocery stores and shopping strips, into the manicured neighborhood where I grew up, and came to a stop at the light into our subdivision, right across from the high school. School had just let out, and I watched the kids laughing and smiling, riding bikes, skateboarding, walking in packs. It was a walk I’d made hundreds of times with Jimmy by my side.
It was then that I wondered if coming home wasn’t another mistake.
The light changed, and we pulled into our neighborhood, into our driveway. I followed him into the house I grew up in, the house that always smelled like gardenias, thanks to the multitude of candles Mom had going almost around the clock. She stepped out of the kitchen when she heard us and flew over to me.
“Come here, baby.” She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “What in the world happened? Are you all right?” She backed away, still holding my arms, her bright eyes inspecting me.
“I’m … I’ll be okay, I think.”
“Well, I made cookies and sangria. You can have your pick — whichever one you think’ll make you feel better.”