A horrible rancid odor slaps me when I open the door. I’m dizzy with dread. I don’t want to know. I just don’t. We’re going to Florida.

We’re running away.

Isaiah follows me in and swears. At the

smell, the damage, or the trash, I don’t know.

Nothing has changed from the last time I was here, except the refrigerator door hangs wide open.

“Did you forget to pay the cleaning lady?”

Isaiah asks.

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see how Mom lives. “She only accepted

cash and Mom was insistent that we use the credit cards for the frequent flyer miles.”

I step over trash and broken pieces of

furniture and lead Isaiah to Mom’s bedroom.

He gently lays her on the bed. This isn’t the first time he’s helped me with Mom. When we were fourteen, Isaiah helped me pick her up from the bar. He’s used to the cracks in the wall, the worn green carpeting, and the picture of me and her taped over her broken mirror.

“Give me a few minutes,” I say. “Then I’ll go grocery shopping.”

He gruffly nods. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

I remove Mom’s shoes from her feet and sit on the bed next to her. “Wake up, Mom. Tell me what happened to your hand.” As if I don’t already know.

Her eyes barely open and she curls into the fetal position. “Trent and I had a fight. He didn’t mean it.”

He never does. “The faster we get away

from him the better.”

“He loves me.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

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“Yes, he does. You two just don’t know

each other real well.”

“I know enough.” I know he wears a ring

that hurt like hell when he punched me in the face. “You’re leaving with me, right? Because if not, I can’t take care of you.”

I want her to say yes and say it quickly. The pause feels like someone ripping my intestines through my belly button. Finally, she speaks.

“You don’t understand. You’re a gypsy.”

And she’s high. “Are you going to leave

with me?”

“Yeah, baby,” she mumbles. “I’ll go with

you.”

“How much do we need to get the car out of impoundment?”

“I need five hundred to get Trent out of jail.”

Trent can die in jail. “The car. How much to get the car out? I can’t find regular rides into Louisville and I can’t take care of you if we don’t leave town.”

She shrugs. “Couple hundred.”

Mom begins to sing an old song Grandpa

used to sing before he drank himself to sleep. I rub my forehead. We need that damn car and I need a damn plan. Mom and I should have

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been gone weeks ago, but Isaiah ruined

that. My windows of opportunity keep closing and I’m not sure how much longer Mom will last on her own.

I pull out Echo’s cash and place half of it on Mom’s bedside table. She stops singing and stares at the cash.

“Listen to me, Mom. You need to sober up

and get the car out of the impound lot. I also want you to pay the phone bill. We’ll be

leaving soon. Do you understand?”

Mom keeps her eyes on the money. “Did

Scott give you that?”

“Mom!” I yell and she flinches. “Repeat

what you need to do.”

Mom produces an old stuffed animal of

mine from under her pillow. “I sleep with this when I miss you.”

I slept with that stuffed animal every night until I turned thirteen. It’s the only thing my father ever gave to me. The fact that she kept it rips me into pieces. I can’t focus on that now. I need Mom to remember what she needs to do.

Her life depends on it. “Repeat what I said.”

“Get the car. Pay the phone bill.”

I stand and Mom grabs my hand. “Don’t

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leave me alone again. I don’t want to be

alone.”

The request feeds on my guilt. We all have our fears. Those things that exist in the dark corners of our mind that terrify us beyond belief. This is hers. My fear? It’s leaving her. “I need to buy you food. I’ll make some

sandwiches and put them in the fridge.”

“Stay,” she says. “Stay until I fall asleep.”

How many nights as a child did I beg her to stay with me? I lie on the bed next to her, run my fingers through her hair, and continue the song where she left off. It’s her favorite verse.

One that talks about birds, freedom, and

change.

I SLICE THE LAST sandwich in half and place the full plate in the fridge, along with the remains of the ham and cheese Isaiah bought while I sang Mom to sleep. Isaiah busies

himself by putting the boxes of cereal and crackers in the pantry. He bought food Mom can easily fix for herself.

“Haven’t you punished me long enough?”

Isaiah asks.

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over your shoulder and force me to leave

again?”

“No,” he says. “Everyone knows Trent’s in jail. The worst thing that’s going to happen to you here…” He glances over at the closed door of my old bedroom. “Maybe I should toss you over my shoulder again. This place is no good for you, Beth.”

“I know.” And that is exactly why I want to leave…with my mom. A small part of me is

curious as to what Isaiah knows that I don’t. I could open the door to my old room and find out, but I shake away the thought. I don’t want to know. I really, really don’t.

“You should go back to work,” I say. He

changed from his work clothes to his favorite black T-shirt and jeans, which means he

intends to stick around. I don’t want to be responsible for him losing a job he loves. The garage he works for is across the street from the strip mall, which explains why he reached me so quickly.

“I got off an hour ago. I stuck around to bullshit and to tinker with a newer Mustang someone brought in. She’s real pretty. I think even you would like her.”

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I’ve missed this. Isaiah telling me about his day and his excited tone when he talks about cars. With his gray eyes, Isaiah looks me over. I’ve missed him. His voice. The tattoos covering his arms. His constant, steady

presence. The last is what I miss the most.

Isaiah is that one relationship I’ve never had to question. The one relationship where I don’t wonder if it’ll change when I wake in the morning.

I take the two steps and wrap my arms

around his chest. One arm at a time, Isaiah embraces me. I love the sound of his heart. So steady. So strong. For a brief few seconds, the chains lift. “I’ve missed you,” I say.

“I’ve missed you too.” Isaiah rests his head against the top of mine. One hand reaches up and cups the back of my head. His fingers graze my cheek and my spine straightens.

We’ve touched many times over the past four years. All those times we touched we were high. Since my arrest, Isaiah has touched me way too much sober.

One night last year, we pushed too far when we were high. Sort of like me and Ryan.

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never happened. If it weren’t for Ryan, I probably would have forced amnesia on our night together in the barn.

And then I remember…Isaiah told me that

he loved me.

“When we graduate, Beth, I promise I’ll take you away from here.”

“Okay,” I say, knowing I’ll be long gone

before graduation. I slip out of his grasp and wonder if I misunderstood Isaiah. Maybe he didn’t tell me he loved me. Maybe he did and once again we’re ignoring things. “Denny call you again?”

“Yeah, and he’ll keep calling me. Do all of us a favor and just call me first. If you have to see your mom, let me be by your side when you do it. I’ll kill Trent if he touches you again and I’d rather not go to jail.”