The You I've Never Known(78)

That Cracks Me Up


Not that anything’s funny.

Not my head.

Not that I’m not okay.

“I’m great. How are you?”

Lame humor. Guess I’m not dying.

You don’t look great.

What happened?

“Garrett was having

a little fun with me.

Except it wasn’t Garrett.

Turned out it was my dad.”

Garrett? Your dad?

What are you talking about?

Wait. Let’s get you out of there.

Can you unbuckle your seat belt?

I fumble, but manage it,

and Gabe tugs me gently

across the seat and out

the door. He sits me

next to the car, wraps

me in the warmth

of his jacket to fight

the cold, and possible

shock. Uses a flashlight

to assess potential injuries.

“Hey. How did you know

to come looking for me?”

You called. Asked for help.

I didn’t know you were out here, though. I was on my way to your house, and to tell you the truth, I was preparing myself to kick your dad’s ass. He studies my face closer. Looks like I should’ve gotten there sooner. Bastard. Listen.

We should probably take you into the ER. You could have a concussion.

“Nope. Huh-uh. I’ve had

a shitty enough day. Not

going to deal with doctors, too. Anyway, what would

they do for a concussion?

Keep me warm and make

me rest, right? I can do

that anywhere.”

Ariel, I really think— “No hospital! Other than

a headache, I feel okay.

I could probably even drive.”





Yeah, Except


The Focus can’t go anywhere, and even if it could, Gabe

isn’t about to let me behind the wheel.

Take care of your car tomorrow.

I’ll drive you wherever you want.

Can you stand up okay?

He helps me to my feet and into the GTO, carefully, tenderly, as if I might shatter. Maybe I will.

“Will you take me to Monica’s?

She’s probably worried about me.

That’s where I was going when . . .”

I give him the lowdown,

at least what I can remember.

Everything’s a little foggy.

Your dad did this? Ran you off the road? On purpose?

He could’ve killed you.

“I think that’s what he had

in mind.” The words exit

my mouth without conscious

thought. I can’t quite believe he’d hurt me, but what he did was definitely deliberate.





Deliberate


De

Dad



li

has



be

many



rate.

faults





but



Oh

he



my

isn’t



serious

capable



God.

of





homicide.



My





dad

But now



tried

his words



to

come back



kill

to me.



me.





I



Did he?

should



Maybe.

have



Maybe not.

killed



Maybe

the



it was

bitch



an accident

when



after all.

I





had



So

the



why

chance.



didn’t





he stop?





No.





No way.





I Jerk the Door Open


Lean out as far as I can

before my stomach empties

itself of what little I’ve eaten today. Gut clenching and

releasing, I heave and heave.

Finally, the nausea subsides

and I chance sitting up again, shaky and, I’m sure, pale.

“Sorry. I think I managed to miss your new leather seat, though.”

Don’t apologize! But thanks for avoiding the seat. I’ll go put a note on your car. Do you have your phone, or did you leave it in the Focus?

Phone? I called Gabe, at least he says I did. . . . “I think it’s on the seat, or maybe the floor. Can you grab it and both my backpacks, please?”

Most of my earthly possessions are inside them. I’ll have to go back for what’s left. But then what?

Because whatever Dad did

or didn’t do tonight, he’s gone.

He’ll vanish like he did before with one notable exception.