“I didn’t want to hide the truth from you, but I don’t want you to worry. It’s men being stupid. You know how they are.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”

“Next Sunday,” she says.

“Next Sunday.”

“Stay safe, sweetie pie.”

“Margo,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Oh, girlie, you know I love you too.”

The recording kicks in again asking for more change. I let the phone disconnect.

I go into Woolworth’s and use the rest of my dimes to buy a card for my dad. I grab the first one that says Get Well. It has a picture of a mouse in a hospital gown that’s open in the back so everyone can see his tail. I don’t know what to write, so I just sign my name. I think about addressing it to Margo, because I know she’d understand and do something so the postmark is unreadable, but then I decide to send it right to my father. He paid for his freedom with a Mercury Sable. He’s not coming to look for me. I buy a stamp from customer service and stick the card in the blue mailbox outside the store.

Later, when Adam falls asleep, I sneak out of the apartment, walk to the house with the kit car in the driveway, and return the license plates. Adam wakes up when I climb back into bed.

“You smell like cold,” he says in his foggy sleep voice, and cuddles up to me.

“Cold isn’t a smell,” I whisper, kissing his forehead. “You’re sleeping.”

He doesn’t say anything else. His breathing goes back to loud and metered. Under the covers, I find his feet to warm mine.

— Chapter 21 —

One of the spoiled college bitches Carly is always complaining about actually shows up for her shift in the afternoon. So I get to leave at what normal time would be if the other people who worked at the cafe made a habit of showing up for their shifts. It’s weird. I’ve been picking up everyone’s slack since I got here, so when I get to actually leave at the end of only one shift, I feel like I’m playing hooky. There’s suddenly this part of the day I haven’t seen in a very long time. There are infinite possibilities. The air feels different.

I walk back to Adam’s apartment. The college kids who rent the places downstairs must be at class or sleeping. It is so quiet. I decide I’ll sit in the sunlight and put my feet up and read. Maybe if I work my way through Adam’s books I’ll have things to talk about that are far from who I used to be.