Page 94 of Lost Lyrebird
“How long it takes to get clean is up to you.It’s a battle every goddamn day, but it is one you have to start at some point if you want to really live.”She keeps nodding and sweeps her fingers under her eyes.“I’ve been there, so I know how hard it is.It’ll take time, but you’ll get there.”
When she shuts the bathroom door and locks it, I massage the back of my neck, trying to relieve some of the pain ricocheting through my head, and stare down at the notes I’ve made.
A tidal wave of regret washes over me.For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I would have left Elle here in Albuquerque.Why didn’t I send her away?This place was obviously not a safe environment for her.Why would I have thought she’d be okay?
Kandy’s tirade makes little sense, but a few words spark hope in my chest.
Poof.Disappear.Fly the coop.Is it possible she found a way out?
I pray she did and is living a good life wherever she is now.If I can’t find her, then I hope she’s at least happy and safe.
My stomach grumbles with hunger, but I don’t dare leave.Several hours have passed as I sit and wait for any movement in the motel room Goose and the girl entered.It’s not until a Tahoe pulls up near three in the morning and parks next to Goose’s Jeep that anything noteworthy happens.
I perk up at this new arrival and grab my binoculars in time to spy a woman jump out of the vehicle.She beelines it for Goose’s room and knocks aggressively.Soon after, the male driver of the Tahoe steps up behind her.Both are thin and tall and dressed casually.
When the motel room door opens, the girl practically flies out of it.She crashes into the woman with such force that they nearly topple over.They hug fiercely.The man’s arms surround them both.Goose steps out of the room.He leans against the building beside his open motel room door and watches the group.Every so often, he scans the parking lot and the surrounding area.
When the family heads inside the room, Goose stays outside.He looks up towards the sky.Out of nowhere, he holds his hand up and points towards the stars.
My shoulders, which were locked in place, drop in relief.I pry my bone-white fingers off the steering wheel and cover my mouth, breathing into my hands to fight the tears building.
Because I know what this is.Not some seedy affair.This is Goose doing what he’s done before.Saving a girl who probably had no hope of saving herself.
CHAPTER 26
Pieces made from wood hold great meaning and a lifetime of memories.
Through the front window, I watch Goose and Bodie load a new rocking chair into Bodie’s old beater truck.Even though it’s the crack of dawn, they’re full of energy.They work together with ease and efficiency.It’s as if the two have their own language.There are hand signals and barking laughter from Bodie.Goose flips him the bird at one point before they both jump into the cab and drive off.
Curious and determined now, I tail them.
I spend most of the drive lost in nostalgia as I take in the Albuquerque skyline and the variety of different hues—blush to magenta, layered with sparse cloud cover.There’s an old sailor proverb claiming pink or red skies are a delight at night, but to take warning if they appear in the morning.
I’m pretty superstitious, but this is one I don’t give any credence to.
To me, they’re one of life’s natural phenomena that showcase how beautiful nature can be with its adaptation to shifting weather and the ever-changing lunar phase cycle.But I’m often captivated by things like this—tornadoes, dust storms, and the flash monsoons we get here quite often.I’m also a sucker for sunrises and sunsets, thunder and lightning storms.I love taking in the view from great heights or sitting in a dense forest to hear the birds chattering with one another.These things hold my whole heart, and I’ve only shared them with one other person in the whole world—a person who might no longer hold those memories.
But I guess it is what it is.
The city’s traffic nearly swallows me up, but I eventually find Bodie’s truck and weave through the congestion until I’m just a half-dozen cars behind.It’s not until they travel down a certain street that I realize where they’re headed, and my heart sinks.
Bodie parks his truck in front of the building—the one Goose and I lived in for a time before he went off to play hero and left me behind.They pull the rocking chair from the truck bed and set it gently on the sidewalk.Goose takes out a rag and wipes it down, treating it as if it holds great value.
Then, as if time hadn’t stolen so much already from us, he walks up the old, cracked path toward the building, and I’m hit with a moment of déjà vu when he reappears with a familiar older man walking with a cane.His hand is on Goose’s arm.He’s using Goose and his cane to steady himself as he lumbers forward.
My chest tightens at the sight of Goose’s old landlord.
Fifteen years have gone by, and those years haven’t been kind to him.This bastard.He’s thinner now, hunched over, with a pathetic comb-over that barely conceals his balding head.My throat tightens as the past ploughs through my mind like a freight train.
The incessant banging on the front door comes at 9:30 a.m.and again at 4:00 p.m.When it returns a little later that night, it doesn’t stop.
“Listen, girl.I know you’re in there.Open up!”
His shouts have anxiety running rampant in my chest.I’ve ignored the landlord’s demands in the hopes that if I put him off long enough, I’d hear from Finn.Then he could resolve this issue, but day after day goes by with no word from him, and I know I’ve ignored the landlord’s demand for entry for as long as I can.
But I still can’t get off the couch to answer the door because the fear of getting kicked out and having nowhere to go is paralyzing.Although I know at some point, he’ll use his key to get in if I don’t answer.
“Last warning, girl.Don’t make me call the police to escort you from the building.”
