I went in and bought a pair of scissors. Outside my dad’s car, so I wouldn’t make a mess, I gathered my hair into a ponytail and flattened the end with the fingers of one hand. The bundle of hair was almost too thick, but the scissors were sharp, and I chopped as if I were cutting Aimee’s throat. I brushed the cut end a few times to get any stray hairs and then let go. My hair fell loose around my face, and I exhaled. Aimee wasn’t my problem anymore. I’d warned her, for what that was worth.

In the car’s side mirror, I checked my work. Not elegant, but shorter. Shorter was all I needed now. Elegant was overrated. I didn’t have to squeeze myself into a pencil skirt or take my blouses to the dry cleaners. I didn’t have to impress donors or patrons or even strangers at nightclubs. My Texas friends didn’t even know the me-from-before, and Grace didn’t care what I looked like. Maybe some part of me would always mourn that long-ago life, but I didn’t wish I was still living it now. I’d built something real and lasting, something to experience rather than exhibit.

I dropped the scissors into my purse and pulled out my phone.

Miss you, I texted Michael. Then I started the engine.

The drive back seemed quicker, and I was almost home when the gas light came on. I didn’t want to leave this for my dad, so I pulled into a filling station. As I waited for the attendant to notice me, I caught sight of a white cargo van parked over by the side of the convenience store. For just a flash, I thought it might be Lena, but then a young guy in blue coveralls approached it, carrying a wrapped sandwich and a fountain drink, and my tension drained, leaving me cold. I was seeing her everywhere.

The attendant tapped on the window, startling me.

As the tank filled, I had a sudden vision. Back in Sugar Land, driving at night with Michael, and running out of gas. We’d pull over on the side of the road and call for a tow truck, but then a van would pull up. There’d be a couple inside, a man and woman, friendly, offering to help, the woman smiling at me. Michael and I would get into that van … and we’d be found hacked to pieces in the underbrush weeks later.