The Hearts We Sold(73)

But all that came out of her mouth was, “Good luck.”





THIRTY-FOUR


T here was comfort in having a deadline.

Dee looked at her calendar.

Then she made a list.

The thing was, knowing she might die made things simpler. It put life into perspective. Things that had seemed enormous became trivialities, and there were some things she wanted to do. Needed to do.

Dee woke early on a Saturday and stood next to Gremma’s bed. Gremma rolled over, saw her roommate less than twelve inches from her nose and, to her credit, did not flinch or even gasp. She simply blinked once and said, “Paranormal emergency?”

“No,” said Dee. “But I need your help.”

She had thought about this. All night, she had tossed and turned, racked with shivers and nerves and so many doubts she thought she might choke on them. But she needed to do this.

And she wanted backup.

“Would you come home with me?” she said.




There was little traffic before eight in the morning on a Saturday. They got through a coffee drive-through in record time, and Dee sipped a hot chocolate. She felt jittery enough without too much caffeine in her system.

Gremma parked on the curb and looked at her. “You want me to stay outside?”

Dee had also thought this over. “No. Mind coming in?”

Surprise flashed across Gremma’s face. “A-all right.” She was so startled it took two tries to unclip her seat belt and follow Dee up the walkway, past the overgrown plants and up to the porch.

Dee did not bother knocking on her front door. Nor did she remove her shoes. She simply walked inside.

She heard voices in the dining room, but she ignored them. With Gremma at her heels, she hurried to the stairs and up to her bedroom. She pulled the empty backpack from her shoulder and placed it on the carpet, then glanced around herself.

There were a few things she wanted—old childhood books and knickknacks. A picture of herself and Gran. A snow globe with unicorns. Then she went to her desk and opened a drawer.

Tucked inside a folder were her passport and birth certificate. She slid both into her backpack.

“Social Security,” said Gremma. It was the first time she had spoken and Dee looked up, startled.

“You’ll need your Social Security card when you apply for jobs,” explained Gremma. There was no surprise or judgment in her voice. Rather, she looked… satisfied somehow. As if all her wild theories were coming to fruition.

Dee found her Social Security card at the bottom of the drawer.

Gremma was the one to zip up the backpack and haul it over her shoulder. “Anything else?” she asked.

Dee shook her head. Together, they walked down the stairs—and right into Mr. Moreno.

He froze in astonishment; apparently, he had not heard them come in. Dee’s stomach shriveled up, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“What are you—” he began to say, but Dee forged ahead with her plan. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dropped it in his palm. A moment later, her house keys joined it.

“No more,” she said. She meant to say the words firmly, but they came out thin.

Comprehension dawned across his face. A muscle jumped in his jaw and his fist clenched. “Deirdre—”

“Don’t,” said Dee. “Just—don’t.”

She knew all the things he would say.

Family does not abandon family; no one will ever want you besides us; if you leave you are a bad daughter; you are the worst daughter; you should—

Her mother came out of the kitchen, her thin fingers wound in an anxious knot. “Dee?”

Dee looked down. This was the hardest part. Jumping off a sinking ship to save oneself was one thing, but abandoning others in the jump…

It was self-preservation.

And she might feel horrible about it, it might give her nightmares and anxiety and she might spend years crying about it, but the thing was—she would have those years.

That was the beauty of saving her own life.

“I’m your father,” Mr. Moreno started to stay, but again, she cut him off.

“You’re an addict. You could have been my father. But you could never be both, not at the same time.” She looked up at him, and suddenly her throat was too full. “If you ever want to change that… well. You know where I am.”

She turned to her mother. “You too,” she said simply. That was the only gift she could offer—simple words.

A quiver ran through Mr. Moreno’s whole body. He shifted on his feet, reached for Dee. She stepped back.

He stepped forward. She could see the energy coiling in his muscles, the fury kindling to life behind his eyes.

Fear beat hard within her. She needed to leave, to escape, but he wouldn’t let her run.

And that was when Gremma reached into her overly large purse and withdrew a fire ax. She hefted it over her shoulder. In her red leather jacket, she might have been Little Red Riding Hood—a Red who carried an ax and wore wolf pelts as accessories.

“All right,” said Gremma. “We’re leaving now.” She beamed at Mr. Moreno, her pretty smile sharp as a blade.

Dee loved her roommate in that moment. For her fearlessness, for not asking questions, for being here.

Dee turned back to her parents.