Page 92 of The Hitchhikers
Her mother laughed. “Taking you? Oh, no, darling. I’m getting rid of you.”
Robert stepped back into the hall. He was just standing there, watching. Jenny looked up at him, pleading. But his eyes were apologetic.
“You can return for the rest of your things,” he said. “Or we can send them to you.”
He was speaking like this was planned. As if she were going on a trip. It all sounded so normal that she found herself walking out of her room and down the stairs. Her mother was already inthe foyer, holding the door open. Jenny’s suitcase was outside in the rain.
“Mom, I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Her mother was staring into the living room, chin lifted.
Jenny looked at her shoes lined up under the bench in the foyer. She was still in dance tights so she couldn’t wear her favorite rainbow thong sandals. She slid her feet into her Adidas sneakers and grabbed her sandals and a pair of flats. She reached up to the coatrack for her crocheted purse, the one Hannah had made her, and her jean jacket, but she couldn’t put them on with the shoes in her hands. She clutched everything in her arms.
“For Christ’s sake. Get out of my house!” Her mother reached for her wrist, and with a hard, bruising grip she dragged Jenny toward the door, then shoved her into the rain.
The door slammed behind her.
Jenny gathered her things, went around the side of the house, and searched for her jewelry, but she couldn’t find anything in the dense shrubs covering the ground.
She took the path through the woods to the marina, and climbed the back stairs to Simon’s apartment, while dragging the suitcase behind her. She dropped one sandal, then the other, through the gaps between the stairs. She fell and skinned her knee. She pulled herself up.
Simon opened his door and flicked on the light. His eyes widened when he saw Jenny, wet and shivering in her leotard, soggy suitcase at her feet, and with a bleeding lip.
“Jesus, Jenny. What happened?” He ushered her inside and picked up her suitcase. She’d thought about what she would tell him. She would ease into the conversation. Maybe wait until morning. But the moment her eyes met his worried brown ones, the words burst out of her.
“I’m pregnant.”
He dropped the suitcase and stared at her. She waited for the questions, but he remained silent. She wondered if she should leave. Then he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out.”
Loud squawking snapped Jenny out of her memories. Two chickens were flapping their wings and pecking at each other. A bigger chicken chased them apart.
Her stomach growled. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to get something more to eat. She stood and stretched her arms over her head, then rubbed her lower back.
She froze.
What was that noise? She turned her head one way, then the other. Lawnmower? Motorbike? She looked at Bones on the grass. He hadn’t moved. The noise grew louder.
Bones lifted his head, rolled onto his side. He was looking in the direction of the road. It could be someone driving past. She held her breath.
Bones started barking at the same time she saw the dust.
The neighbor. She must’ve come back. Jenny grabbed the rifle, ran into the house, and locked the door behind her. Bones was barking louder and faster outside.
She raced through the kitchen and opened the back door, nearly slamming into Simon, who caught her arms and stopped her from knocking them both over.
“The neighbor!” she yelled. “She’s back!”
“Shit.” He jogged to the living room window on the right, gun in hand, and Jenny on his heels with the rifle. He pressed his shoulder to the wall and hooked the curtain with his finger, peeking through the small gap. She flattened her back on the wall beside him.
Along with Bones’s barking, she could hear an engine growing closer. It seemed different from the truck. Not as loud and rough.
It stopped. They’d parked by the house.
Simon snatched his hand back from the curtain and twisted his body, so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping.
“It’s the cops,” he whispered.
