“Forgive me, dear, I can’t help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart.”
—Little Women
I bought a ticket on a bus leaving New York at a few minutes to midnight. It was less a strategic plan than the flailing of a person who’d just felt a bug crawl across her bare skin and was obeying a primal urge to flee. Get home, said every throb of my pulse. Or maybe it was Get away. In either case, this was the soonest I could start moving in the right direction, so I handed over my debit card and emptied my account. That left me with slightly less than five dollars’ cash. It was going to be a long, hungry trip.
I didn’t call my mother to tell her I was coming home. There was no way I could have kept the secret of why I was leaving, and this felt like something I needed to tell her in person. Maybe I’d have an idea by then of how to make it better. The trip to Chicago was supposed to be twenty hours long, which should give me plenty of time to think.
When we changed buses for the second time somewhere in Ohio, I was dizzy from tiredness and bad smells, many of which came from me. Though at least I wasn’t the person who thought coleslaw was a reasonable snack on public transportation. After I spent my last dollars on Cheetos and Oreos, I paced up and down the sidewalk, wishing I had someone to talk to. Not one of my fellow passengers but someone who knew me well enough to care whether I was about to be murdered in this desolate parking lot.
The only problem was that the list of people I could stand talking to right now was depressingly short. I didn’t want to call Meg and say, Guess what? I screwed up too! Amy would make a scene, shrieking the house down. Which left . . .
Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted to call David. He would talk me down and tell me everything was going to be okay. This might be too much even for David, a small voice whispered. Not to mention that I’d have to start the conversation by saying, Hey, guess what? Turns out you were right about Hudson!
I put my phone back in my pocket. Then I took it out again and sent him a quick text:
Coming home.
I finally managed to fall asleep with my face pillowed on my backpack, which was propped against the window. The first thing I did on waking was check my phone, partly to see the time but mostly to know if David had replied.
Nothing. No missed calls or messages of any kind. That might have something to do with the No Service message at the top of my screen. Or it could mean he didn’t want to talk to me. Which, fair enough. My battery was low, so I powered down the phone. Even if I’d managed to get through to David and he’d been willing to talk to me, this wouldn’t have been the right moment, unless I wanted to treat the entire bus to the emotional equivalent of coleslaw fumes.
It was typical of my amazing timing that only now, separated from him by miles of featureless terrain, technological failures, and too many pigheaded mistakes to count, could I find the words I wanted to say to David.
I wish you were here.
I would go to twenty proms with you.
You’re my Butterfinger Blizzard.
When we reached Chicago, it was late evening. Stifling a yawn, I climbed down the stairs. Most of the other passengers had luggage to collect, but I shouldered my backpack and moved away from the bus, looking for an information kiosk or ticket window. Once I knew how much a ticket south would cost, I could figure out how to pay. And then get out of this station, which didn’t exactly give off a Safe Place for Teen Girls to Hang Out Alone vibe. Though to be honest, my more pressing concern was the aroma coming from the snack bar, which made me want to gnaw off my own arm.
“Jo.”
I froze. Then I spun so fast I nearly took out an innocent bystander with my backpack. “David? What—what are you doing here?”
“I came to get you.” He held up his keys.
“You drove to Chicago?” That was hours and hours on the road, and his truck was loud at highway speeds. Not to mention the cost of gas, and how scary it must have been to drive through city traffic alone.
He shrugged like it was no big deal—something anyone would have done. But it really wasn’t.
“I’m a mess.” I looked down, not wanting him to see the mini breakdown playing out on my face. I wish you weren’t seeing me like this, but I’m so freaking glad you’re here.
He gave me one of his stealth David smiles. “At least you’re not covered in killer pond amoebas.”
My laugh sounded disturbingly like a sob. He took a step toward me, looking worried, and I threw myself at him, pressing my face into his neck as his arms came around me. We stayed that way a long time. He didn’t squirm or stiffen, even though we were standing in the middle of a bus station with people all around. I got the feeling David would hold on as long as I needed.
“I’m just really happy to see you,” I whispered, as if that explained it all. Pulling back, I took a deep breath. “Sorry for attacking you.”
“I’m used to it.” His gaze moved over my face. I was pretty sure he wasn’t staring into my eyes because he’d been captivated by their beauty. “Are you okay?”
“Tired.” I ran a finger under my lashes, hiding the evidence of tears. Then my stomach growled so loudly we were both startled.
“Um,” said David. “Food?”
Ten minutes later, we piled into his truck with two cheeseburger value meals and extra fries. I’d gone for coffee instead of Coke, because I didn’t want bubbles coming between me and the caffeine.
“I’ll pay you back,” I told him, for at least the third time.
“I’m not worried about it.” He slid his drink into the cup holder. “I know where you live.”
“Yeah, but how are you here?” Mom would have said I must have sent the intention out into the universe, but I knew that wasn’t it, because my imagination wasn’t this good. Assuming magical thinking was like the lottery, and you had to actually buy a ticket in order to win.
“Amy got the ball rolling. She knew something was up, so she called Meg, who said your dad had all of you on his family-locator app, which is how they figured out you were heading this way, even though you weren’t answering your phone. Your dot was moving so slowly, we figured it had to be a bus.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Pretty much all of them stop here, so I came to find you.”
“Have you been here a long time?”
“Eh.” He waved this off. “I’m used to it.”
“Bus stations?”
“Waiting for you.” Another blink-and-you-missed-it smile, this one sending my heart into my throat.
We finished our meals in silence (other than the feral animal noises of me inhaling my burger), because I needed time to absorb the news that my sisters had banded together to help me. Sitting in this truck in a grungy parking lot in a strange city with ketchup on my face and a series of small explosions happening in my brain: it was the most comfortable I’d been in days. Maybe longer than that.
“Do you want to talk about it now or get on the road?” David asked, after gathering up all the trash and tossing it in a dumpster.
“Let’s drive.” It would be way better if he had to keep his eyes on the highway so I couldn’t see the disappointment on his face when he found out what I’d done.