Page 10 of My Almost Ex

“Are you okay?” Ethel asks, and I step backward a few feet.

“Great, I just have to finish my run and get back to my mom at the inn.”

“We can drive you,” Dori suggests.

I raise my hand to say that’s okay. I turn around to head into the woods when a semi crosses over the hill and blares his horn when he sees me in the road. I stand there as if I’m made of stone.

“Lucy! Get out of the street!” Ethel screams.

I look over at her and snap out of it, dashing to the side of the road. But I’m not on the trail, and I fall down into a ditch that’s all muddy from the recent snowmelt. The semi passes by with a whoosh and I lie back, not wanting to get up out of sheer embarrassment.

The two old women peer over the edge of the road at me.

“Do you not remember that semis can squish you like a pancake?” Dori asks.

I sit up, looking at my clothes, now caked in mud. My phone vibrates again. “Yes, I do remember. It just took me by surprise.”

Honestly, I wish I had an answer to why I froze just now. As sad as it is, I’ve wondered if I hit my head again, would my memory resurface? I know, stupid, but late at night when I’m trying so hard I give myself a migraine, I fear I’ll never be who I was.

“I should call Adam,” Ethel says.

“No!” I yell and climb up from the ditch.

“Well, we’re at least taking you with us,” Ethel says.

I can’t refuse their offer now.

Of course, these veteran mothers are prepared with towels in the back of the car. I don’t ask why though. They lay them out for me and I slide into the back seat, relieved to at least have a ride back to the inn.

Until Ethel slams her foot on the gas and my head hits the back of the seat.

Dori peers over the passenger seat. “You remember me now?”

I shake my head.

“Didn’t think so.” She turns forward and I send a text to my mom, saying I’ll be there shortly.

Mom: It’s fine. I packed my bags. Please pack yours. I’m going to meet Adam and his father for coffee and then we’ll leave.

My stomach sinks while I stare at the text message. She can’t be serious. Adam was my first breakthrough in weeks. I hammer out a message.

Me: No. Please wait. I’m coming and then I’ll go with you.

Mom: Sweetie, it’s 8:45 now, I don’t want to be late.

Me: Call them and ask to push it back.

Mom: Truth is, it’s better if you just don’t go. Let me handle this. You had a tough day yesterday.

I clench my phone. She’s going to leave me out of this, and now I’ve fallen in mud and have to shower before I can join them. I don’t like all these people making decisions on my behalf.

“Take me to town,” I say to Ethel.

Ethel glances at Dori. It’s clear they’re having some weird conversation with just their eyebrows.

“Sure,” Ethel says. “Anywhere specific?”

“Where people would meet for coffee?”

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