Adults don’t advertise enough how awesome and powerful it feels to carry a ring of keys around.

I don’t need to ask anyone’s permission to take a walk in this cute little neighborhood. No one critiques the way I’m dressed. The ring of keys weighs my pocket down in a particularly pleasing way. Once in a while, they jangle faintly.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window and feel amazed at what I see. I look just like any other girl shopping and strolling. In Olympic Coffee, I order a flat white in a bored voice so that the barista thinks I stop at cafés all the time. The foam machine chuffs and surges and I try not to hear my father’s voice growling beneath it. Wasteful, he’d say. Like you’re too good for Folgers.

The girl who takes my order asks my name and I say Indigo just to see her scrawl it on the cup—a drink for a more glamorous version of me. “I love that,” she says. “Do people call you Indy?”

“My friends do, yeah.”

Indigo glides down Sixth Avenue. At the vintage consignment shop, she holds up an orange chiffon blouse and doesn’t assume it will look ridiculous on her. She smiles distantly at everyone. She browses the used paperbacks at the hospital charity store, and when the old man who works there asks if she’s a student, she nods and says, “I just started at University of Puget Sound.”

I am so caught up in being Indigo that when my phone rings and I see it’s my older sister, Helen, I answer as if it’s the best idea in the world and not a decision fraught with danger. “Helen!” I practically shout into the phone. “How ARE you?”

“All good here, Nora. You doing okay?”

“I am. Just out and about—really enjoying the gorgeous weather.” I’m talking to my older sister but I’m performing for the people walking alongside me, the other reflections shimmering in store windows.

“Okay … great. I’m happy to hear that. Where are you out? Are you in town? On your own?”

And then suddenly the phone call gets so much easier. Because I realize that my father hasn’t told my sister I’ve left town. Sonny might not even realize I’m gone. I mean, he’s most likely missing his truck. But if he was worried, he would have called Helen right away. A delay indicates a slow burn of rage that will undoubtedly flare up eventually.

For now, though, I just need to catch up with my big sister. “Well, you know I’m in Spokane.” Of course she doesn’t know that. Of course I am not in Spokane.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sure I told you. My gaming friend. We planned a meetup. I’m just visiting for the long weekend. It’s so great to meet her in person.”

“Sonny let you sleep over at someone’s house?” The complication of this story is that Helen also grew up on the ranch. More than anyone, she understands how unbelievable this possibility is.

I sell it with the casual cool of a girl named Indigo. “Well, it’s Kylie, my gaming friend. We know each other so well. We talk every night.”

“But you’ve never met? Hold on a sec, Nora. Macon? Macon, honey, please don’t drive your truck through that. The dog drinks out of that.” I hear Helen shuffle around the receiver. Her voice wheezes with effort. “So this Kylie—you met in person for the first time when you showed up in Spokane?”

“I didn’t just show up. She invited me.”

“Right. I get that. And this online stuff, I guess people do that kind of thing all the time these days. I just can’t believe Sonny went for it. He let you go there. Good for you.”

Helen sounds so genuinely happy that it kills my mood. Because eventually she’s going to remember this conversation and know I lied to her.

“Macon, honey, please don’t put cereal there. Sorry, Nora. It’s great that you’re meeting Kylie. But how are other things going? You’re still keeping up with your health promises, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Yeah? Good. Like how?”

“Helen, can we talk about this another time? I’m at my friend’s house.”

“Yeah, sure. But there’s always going to be stuff going on, right? And that’s why we make health promises. We make space for taking care of ourselves. We’ve talked about that. You know I scheduled a Zoom call with Dr. Forero. Can you just confirm it’s on your calendar?”

“It’s definitely on my calendar.”

“What day?”

Walking along Sixth Avenue in Tacoma, a girl named Indigo floats over the concrete. Nothing touches her. Strangers smile at her. The voice on the phone sounds distantly insistent.

“Nora? What day?”

“Helen, I have it written down. You emailed me the link. It’s just that I’m at Kylie’s house right now and I can’t talk to you and look at the calendar at the same time.”

Helen sighs. “I get it; I do. This is important, though, Nora.”

“Right.”

“Because you know it’s important to build that relationship with your therapist, to hold yourself accountable.”

“Right.”

“Here’s the thing, Nora: I know how hard it is to live with Sonny and still remind yourself on a daily basis that you are strong and capable and deserving of love. In other families—well, let’s just say that message comes across more clearly. But Sonny is just one part of your life. Your life is your own. You get to take care of yourself by eating healthy, getting good rest, and accessing your other nurturing resources. Therapy, medication, even me—we are all nurturing resources. Macon, honey, could you please just let Mommy talk to her sister on the phone?”

Objectively, ask anyone and they will tell you my sister, Helen, is a good person. She strives to be patient with her children. She pays for my therapy and finds a way to arrange for it that doesn’t threaten Sonny’s ego or worldview. She genuinely worries about my welfare all the way from her house in Southern California.

So I aim to be patient with Helen and give her the reassurance she needs. “Thanks for setting everything up. I promise I won’t miss my session. The appointment makes it so much easier.” I rattle off my talking points and remember yesterday’s studio session, how it felt to finally stand in the same room as someone so important to me. Instead of just watching a screen, I could see her in person. Explaining how amazing that was to my sister feels impossible.

I still try. “Helen, I hardly ever have a chance to leave the ranch. And now I’m out here with a friend. I get to see where she lives. I’m meeting her other friends—”

“I know, I know. That’s really great, Nora. It kills me to put any kind of damper on it. I just want to make sure you’re okay—that’s all.”

“Of course I’m okay. This is the best weekend of my life.”

“I bet.” My sister speaks quietly, in the voice she uses to tuck her little boy into bed. “Enjoy every minute. Remember to thank Kylie’s parents and make good choices.”

“Of course, Helen. I love you.” I look down at my feet positioned at the crosswalk, feel the reassurance of a ring of keys in my pocket.

My sister has never met Indigo.

“Aw, Nora. I love you so much. Okay, I’ll let you go now. Take care.”

I drop the phone in my bag and picture my sister falling into the darkness, her dumb face frozen in permanent worry. Back home, calls from Helen are my lifeline. They’re a strand to the outside world I can always grasp. Sonny never forbids those calls. It’s important to keep up family ties, after all.

Usually, Helen spends the entire time describing Macon and Ben’s latest escapades and whatever latest project she’s got going at her house. She tells me about paddleboarding in ocean inlets or how she’s redoing the backyard again in hopes of achieving the perfect outdoor kitchen. She’ll pepper me with questions. Am I eating all right? Is Sonny serving me warm food or MREs? But mostly she’s reminding me that there’s a life waiting for me after Sonny’s bunker. I just have to grow up a bit more to get there.

In Tacoma, a girl named Indigo has decided she’s waited long enough.