Page 227 of The Harbinger

Who?

I gave Lex the side-eye.

“She’s eating just fine, Mom.”

“I know.” Her shoulders slumped as she flipped the last pancake. “I just get nervous, that’s all.”

“I’m not the same person I was before, Mom. You can believe that.”

She nodded, and I stood, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’ve got to get going. I have a shift after my class today.” I walked to the closet and grabbed my jacket.

“But your dad isn’t here yet.”

“I’ll meet him on the road. I’m sure he’ll see me.”

“Mia,” Mom said as she met me at the door. “Is everything okay? You seem distant. Like you’re not quite comfortable in your skin.”

I nodded with a hard swallow. “I’m fine. I just need to get going.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Be careful and stay on the sidewalk. The snow comes around every year, but these people act like it’s a new phenomenon when they drive.”

I snorted and stepped outside, slipping my jacket over my shoulders and zipping it up before the cold seeped into my bones. “I will,” I said, turning back to my mother.

“You know you can talk to me about anything. I want you to understand that. I won’t judge you.”

I gave her a reassuring smile, then a hug, taking in her soothing warmth. “I know.” I turned and walked away down the sidewalk, then headed in the direction Mom had taken to get me familiar with the campus and my teachers.

Little bits of memory slipped into place over the course of two weeks, but not enough to fill in the massive blanks. I’d given in to the idea that it may never return.

The wind slapped my face, chilling my cheeks. I should have stayed home and waited for my dad instead. But I trudged on, my feet slapping the wet pavement with a relentless rhythm. The walk ahead of me seemed endless, like some kind of cruel joke played by the gods of fate.

A low rumble of an engine grew closer from behind me, but this was different from those which would drive by. It slowed down, and I turned around. The car was a nice bright red Lexus, the tinted passenger window rolling down.

“Mia, get in.”

I froze in my tracks. The woman’s distinguished voice was impossible for me to miss. “Jenny?” I gave her a guarded smile and leaned over, bracing my hands against the open window. “Where did you get this car?”

“It’s mine. We need to talk.”

Jenny’s salt and pepper bob was cut short and curled, framing her face. Round wire glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, highlighting the wisdom in her eyes. She looked older than I remembered, but her style had evolved, shedding the tattered clothes of her past for something more refined.

I acquiesced with a shrug and opened the car door, slipping inside. Jenny wasted no time hitting the gas and speeding down the road. As I buckled myself in, a small voice inside me urged caution. On one hand, Sacha’s warning reared in the back of my mind to never buckle, and on the other, my mother gasping when I didn’t.

“Where in the world did you get your hands on this car?” I blurted out, my mind racing with a dozen questions. Jenny turned off onto a side street and pulled up outside an old coffee shop, a place my mother used to take me to.

“Come on,” she said, flashing me a mischievous grin. “Let’s grab a drink and catch up.”

I glanced down at my watch with a shrug and a nod. My first Masterpieces of Russian Literature class could wait. Besides, I had so much to tell her, and she apparently had lots to tell me.

We climbed out of the car and entered the charming mom-and-pop shop. We placed our order, me opting for a simple black tea while she ordered coffee, and then found our way to a round table tucked away in the corner of the glass-walled room.

As we settled in, the world outside faded away, replaced by the cozy warmth of the coffee shop. The chatter of other customers became a dull hum in the background, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air.

“I need to make a few things crystal clear before we get started,” she said, her tone shifting from friendly to serious.

I cocked my head to the side, intrigued by her sudden turn in demeanor. “Sure, okay.”

“First,” she said, pausing to gather her thoughts. Her hand reached across the table, hovering before me before settling flat on the surface without touching it. “How are you holding up?”

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