Page 136 of Nerdplay
“We had a video call. I explained the message I was trying to convey, and they offered a few pointers.”
“Traitors,” she mutters under her breath.
“To be fair, they were resistant to helping me, but I was very persuasive.” I don’t want her to be mad at her friends. They definitely had her back, especially Gloria, who threatened to send a colony of sugar gliders to rain shit on my car if I let Cricket down again.
Which I absolutely won’t. I’d sooner fight a Balrog.
“What about the lienholder?”
I shrug. “I have no obligation to them; they’re not my client. They didn’t handle their paperwork properly, nor did they follow up in the five years they were legally given. As far as I’m concerned, that’s on them.”
Cricket slots her fingers together and contemplates the presentation. “I appreciate you coming all this way to update me.” When she rises to her feet, my heart feels ready to split in two. Somehow, I keep it together. As much as I want her forgiveness, it has to be on her timeline, not mine. I also recognize the possibility that it might not happen at all.
“So, you’ll be in touch?” I ask.
“Maybe.” Her tone is every bit as cryptic as the word.
I place the laptop in the briefcase, snap it closed, and show myself out. She doesn’t follow.
* * *
The rain worsens on the drive home. Gray clouds grow darker and more ominous, and I catch a lightning strike in the rearview mirror.
I worry about Cricket. I worry about Adam and the kid in the Pikachu top, and the children I haven’t even met.
The rain is torrential to the point where visibility is almost nonexistent. I check my sideview mirror and cross to the left lane, then I swing across the median in a U-turn that would’ve made Former Charlie turn himself into the nearest police station for dangerous traffic violations.
But Present Charlie doesn’t give a shit about rules. There are no other cars in sight. Nobody else to injure.
I press my foot on the gas. “I feel the need for speed,” I tell Hugo. The car wastes no time in complying.
My mind races faster than the Audi as I drive back. What if the camp is completely flooded and they can’t get out?
What if I delayed Cricket leaving her house and she’s cut off from the campers?
Why did I give up so easily?
I should’ve stayed. Fought harder.
The windshield wipers can’t keep up with the intensity of the rain. The wind is howling, and I keep both hands tightly on the wheel to keep the nose of the car from jerking to the side. Apart from a couple semitrailers, I’m the only imbecile on the road.
The car skids through a puddle and nearly hydroplanes. My heartbeat revs up as I near the exit. I try to drum up a clever line, one that will win her over, but all I can think of is the part in Star Wars where Princess Leia tells Han Solo she loves him and he replies, “I know.” Leia is stronger than I am. If that happens to me…
No. If that happens to me, it would still be worth saying. I should’ve said it during the slide deck, but I lost my nerve. Cricket deserves to know how I really feel, even if she doesn’t feel the same. Low risk with a potentially high reward. The cliff jump I’d intended to make before Matt showed up and ruined everything.
I laugh at the idea that this is low risk as I swerve around a fallen tree. Six weeks ago, I would’ve flagged this as high risk, low reward. That was B.C. Now I see myself clearly, like I’m gazing at my reflection in the lake, which I would never do because I’m not Narcissus, a god I didn’t even know existed until Bradley told me.
I chuckle to myself as I squint past the deluge. I feel like a lunatic, but it feels euphoric rather than scary. Like my sister, I’m high, except my condition is due to naturally occurring adrenaline and dopamine. The closer I get to the campground, the more elated I am. Cricket is only ten miles away.
Five miles.
I hope she’s safe.
My heart thrums as I make the final turn that will lead me to the parking lot where we first met. I hope I’m being overly dramatic and that the camp is muddy but otherwise fine.
Water rushes over the road. I slow to a stop; there’s a solid chance it’s too deep to drive through. I reverse the car and drive until I spot a possible entry point. If I recall correctly, there’s a dirt path that will take me to the campsite closer to the lake.
I park between two mighty oaks and pat the dashboard. “Sit tight, Hugo. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
