Collared(36)

He stays at the window. “Today today? Are you . . . you know, ready for that?”

I know what he’s asking. Am I ready for the people, the noises, the sights, the damn media? Of course I’m not ready for any of that, but I doubt I’ll ever be ready, and my life isn’t just going to come back together on its own.

“I’m ready for the zoo.” I’m surprised by how convincing I sound.

He turns around once he notices my sweater, and he sits on the edge of the windowsill. “Wow. You’re really taking the bull by the horns, aren’t you?”

I roll my hand. “I think you’re mistaking that for the bull prodding my ass with its horns, but yeah, something like that.”

When I head back into my closet to dig through the pile of old shoes, I have to go all the way to the back to find the ones I have in mind. I have a million pairs of Converses, and even though my favorite ones went missing the night I did, I have plenty of backups. I want the black ones back, but I settle for the navy pair.

“This isn’t too much too fast? Busting out of the hospital yesterday and going to the zoo today? The world isn’t going anywhere if you want to take your time easing back into it.”

I hear the concern in his voice. I know I would see it on his face if I glanced back. He’s right—this is too much too fast, but it would feel that way even if I stayed stuffed in my closet for the rest of the day. At least at the zoo, I can enjoy fresh air and be with him.

I work up the only kind of courage I have left—the pretend kind—and slip into my old Cons. “I’ve got ten years of making up to do. I can’t afford to waste a single day.”





TORRIN ISN’T JUST a priest—he’s a ninja priest.

I don’t think a single reporter figured out I’d left my parents’ house—that’s how good he is.

After brushing my teeth and hair, I found him sitting on the bottom stair, waiting for me. Mom voiced her protests, but she didn’t blockade the door like Dad would have if he were home. I was surprised she hadn’t called him yet, with Torrin being there and everything, but maybe she’d noticed how I was most at ease when he was around.

He’d parked his truck down at his old house—he’d cleared it with the new owners, I guess. Then he led me through the maze of fences and yards we had to have run hundreds of times to each other’s houses—because why take the sidewalk when this was so much fun?

We crawled into his truck and disappeared down the road without anyone noticing. Torrin didn’t stop checking his rearview mirror until we hit the freeway though.

“I didn’t think priests were allowed out from behind an altar, and here you are, taking me to the zoo.” The cars whirring by don’t make me as nauseated as they did yesterday. I still can’t look out the side window for long, but I can stare through the windshield no problem.

“Please, most of my time is spent just like this—with people.” He jets into the left lane and pushes the truck faster. I feel like it’s about to rattle apart right here in the middle of I-5. “I spend a couple hours a week behind an altar. The rest of the time, I’m out here with the rest of you.”

“Helping people?” I guess.

“Trying to.”

I look at him. He sees me from the corner of his eye. “You’re good at it.”

“Yeah?”

I crank the window down an inch to let in the fresh air. It smells good. Like rain and green plants. “Yeah.”

“That’s one of the reasons I became a priest. To help people.” He rolls down his own window a little.

The dueling breezes play with my hair, whipping it around my face. I haven’t felt wind in my hair for an eternity.

“What are the other reasons?” Even though I’ve accepted he is a priest, I’m not sure I understand it. He’s still the Torrin I remember, but the priest part just doesn’t fit. It would be like me running for politics—totally unexpected. Out of nowhere.

“There are lots of them.”

“What’s one of them?” I press.

He exhales like there’s some war being fought inside him. I don’t think he’ll answer. He has a right to keep his secrets—god knows I should be able to empathize with that.

His hand dangling over the steering wheel curls into a fist. “The woman I wanted to spend my life with was gone. I wasn’t in the mood to find a backup.”

My chest does that thing again—contracting like someone just hit me in the ribs with a hammer. When Torrin glances at me, it looks like someone’s swinging a dozen hammers at him too.

I can’t keep looking at him watching me like that. I know we’re feeling the same thing—the ache of what could have been. The pain of accepting it never can be again.

I find myself focusing on the dashboard. I don’t notice it right away, but when I do, I touch the bright coral smear running down the front of it. “You never cleaned it.” I trace my finger down the dried nail polish, reliving the moment like it was happening right now.

“I could never bring myself to.” Torrin’s eyes land on the stain from the bottle I accidently spilled when I was painting my toenails on a drive to the beach. “I couldn’t bring myself to just . . . erase it.”

I don’t know a tear’s slipped out until it falls onto my arm that’s still reaching out, touching the stain. It’s only one tear, no more are coming, but Torrin doesn’t miss it.