Page 83 of Borrow My Heart

“Just until tonight,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. I nodded toward the note. I hadn’t read it, but assumed she’d written that.

Zoey’s brows came together in concern as she read the note again. “Did she tell you about this?”

“I woke up last night when she was leaving.”

“She left last night? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because it was fast. And she’ll be back tonight.”

My sister nodded, trying to process, like I had. She had more goodwill toward our mom, which was probably why she said, “Yeah, yesterday out in the garden she was saying she was running out of supplies. I guess her business is doing well.”

My eyes went to the rows and rows of rocks and crystals that lined the shelf above the windows. “Yeah, running out. I’m glad she’s selling so many.”

“So, fireworks tonight?” Zoey turned the piece of paper towardme.

“Did you ever meet Chad? One of my coworkers at the shelter?”

“Hot Chad?”

“Yes.”

“I met him at that adoption thing at the park.”

“Right. Well, he’s here this weekend and his cousin is taking him to a party. He invited us.”

I wasn’t sure if Zoey was putting on a brave face for me, but her eyes drifted back down to the note and she emitted a heavy breath. “Sounds good.”

Zoey had declared sometime later that morning she was going for a drive and left the bus without asking if I wanted to come. I assumed she needed some alone time to process. I understood. But now, several hours later, I was bored out of my mind. Asher was at the shelter—apparently theAre you the chosen one?post yesterday had caused an increase in traffic. Dogs were getting adopted. Unfortunately, not Bean. Yet.

A television was mounted on the metal wall between two windows. So far, Zoey and I hadn’t turned it on. I did now, but the only thing that came on-screen was the DVD player connection indicating there was no disk. Apparently, our mom didn’t have any streaming services. A cabinet sat below the television and I opened the door to find rows of movies. On the very end were smaller cases, containing what looked like miniature DVDs. It took me a minute to realize they were home movies with dates or words written across the front. I found one labeledWeddingand put it in the tray of the player.

The remote was on top of the cabinet and I turned up the volume and pressed Play. I’d seen pictures of my dad from when he was younger, but I’d never watched a video of him, and as I sat there cross-legged on my mom’s couch in a bus watching their wedding ceremony and the reception, there was something about seeing my dad in motion that a photo could never capture. He had long wavy hair and an infectious smile. He danced and laughed loud and drank and wasn’t weighed down with life.

An ache rose in my chest and leaked out my eyes. I swiped at my cheeks.

I watched the entire two-hour video and by the time I was done my face felt cold and clammy. I uncrossed my legs and stretched them out in front of me, my feet numb at first and then pins and needles. I stood and ejected the disk, then popped it back into its little square case. I started to put it back in the cabinet but stopped. Instead, I unzipped my suitcase and dropped it inside. I’d never stolen anything in my life, but this didn’t feel like stealing. This didn’t belong here.

I sighed and looked at my phone. It was nearing four. Where was Zoey?

Are you going to be home by four?I texted.

She didn’t answer. Maybe she was driving.

Taking something from somebody that you don’t think they deserve to have…good or bad?That text I sent to Asher.

He didn’t answer right away either. I wished I hadn’t come here. Or at the very least I wished Asher had. I needed him. I just wanted to wrap him around me and forget this ache in my chest. It was weird to need someone like this. I’d never let someone in enough to need them.

I went to the tiny bathroom to get ready and stared into the mirror. After just watching the twenty-year-old version of my mom on TV for the last two hours, my own image in the mirror brought a flare of anger. Why did I have to look so much like her?

I washed my face and put on some makeup, then went back to the living room and peered out the windows. This time I tried tocallmy sister. No answer. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her go. She wasn’t in a good headspace. What if she got in an accident or her phone battery died and she got lost? She wouldn’t have driven all the way home. Or would she?

Anxiety was building up in my chest as I paced what would be an aisle if this were an operating bus.

At four forty-five, gravel popped under tires as Zoey pulled up. Relief poured down my spine. She walked inside like it was nothing and said, “You ready?”

“Are you?” I asked. We didn’t have to go. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

---