Page 18 of Never Have I Ever

“I’m starting to think the same.”

“Does that mean you’re considering a cross-country move?” I will never be upset that she puts in the effort to convince me to move back to New York.

I laugh. “You’re very good, I’ll give you that. Not moving there, but I’ll still be there for the wedding.”

“You’re still catering it even after what happened at the luncheon?”

Scanning the dark street ahead, I allow my thoughts to meander down a different path, one of reconciliation. Is it possible to find peace in the relationship with my mom? Call me a fool, but a daughter can dream. I hate that I want this more than she does. I take a breath, quieter now, the anger settling into grief. “Maybe it’s dumb to want a better outcome for us.”

“It’s not dumb. I know that relationship is important to you, but I worry about you if it doesn’t work out the way you hope for.”

I need to try. Again. “If I do this for her, maybe she’ll—” A ping from my phone makes me glance down at it. “Oh no.”

“What is it?”

“I need to let you go. I only have five percent battery life and should save it.”

“No charger?”

“I don’t know where it is. The trunk. The cabin. I was in a hurry to get out.” I slow the car to look around, but it’s just too dark to see if it made it up here with my purse. I dig inside one-handed to make sure.

Marina says, “If you see a grocery store, pull over and charge in case of an emergency. You have hours ahead of you to go.”

“Okay, but why a grocery store?”

“Other people will be around, and you’ll be able to hang out in a public place. A restaurant or Target works as well.”

“Wise advice.” I smile, knowing I may not have my mom, but Marina’s right. I’ve found family in the Westcott and Warren clans. Finally feeling better, I can think straight. “Hey, how’d the meeting go?”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re back in LA and have more battery charge. Drive safely.”

I should have asked sooner, but this opportunity came up so fast that I jumped without considering it. I regret not thinking twice or reading the fine print.

The agency made it sound like a piece of cake.

That jerk is no cake I’ve ever tasted.

The worst part, if the “get the fuck out” can be topped, I might not ever know his name, but I’ll despise the man for the rest of my life. I’ll check the contract and nondisclosure agreement I signed because I need to know who to hate.

“I will. Talk soon. Bye.” As soon as I hang up, a sudden jolt puts me on alert. A surge makes me sit up straighter and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. While depressing the brake, I roll down the window to listen. Hearing a whining noise coming from the engine, I tap the steering wheel. “No. No. No. No. Noooo.”

I squint to see if I can spot any lights ahead, but I’ve barely made it off the asshole’s property, so I know I’m not close to town. Panic sets in as I glance down at my phone, remembering it’s about to die. Like me on the side of this road when an ax murderer finds me stranded and all alone.

Another surge forces the car forward. “Please,” I quietly plead. “Please just get me to a gas station.” I rub the steering wheel, hoping the car will accept my apology. Checking the side mirror, I don’t see another car in the vicinity, but it’s clear the car can’t be driven in this condition. Just as I start to slow, though, fear rattles through me. I can’t just sit here all night, hoping someone passes by.

The car begins to slow on its own, and when I hear sputtering, I know I need to get off the road. Pulling onto the dirt shoulder, I just make it before the engine dies entirely.

At least my headlights—Oh shoot. Don’t tell me my battery died. I flick the lights on and off again but get the same outcome. I’m stuck in complete darkness.

And this is how I die . . .

Panic matches my racing thoughts. What should I do? I grab my phone, practically another limb of my body, and am about to call 911, but just as I unlock it, it dies, too.

It’s tempting to scream, to get out my frustration, my fears, and any strong emotion that won’t serve me well. But I don’t.

I won’t.

It feels like I’m giving the jerk the upper hand, though he’ll never be the wiser. I can handle my shit. This is nothing to worry about. Still holding my phone and ready to use it as a weapon, I step out of the car to get a bearing of my surroundings. I’m not near an edge or anything, and although there’s a curve up ahead, I’m on a little straightaway. That will be good for visibility. This will be fine. I walk up a few feet to read what the nearest sign says.

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