having Russ as a pseudo dad, is that I know how to change a tire and use a set of jumper cables. As she walks back toward her vehicle, I drive the truck around and park in front of her clunker.
She stands off to the side, bouncing the boy on her hip, while I grab the cables from the back. “I don’t, uh … actually know how this works. Do you?”
With a nod, I go to work, hooking up the cables from her battery to mine.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Shaking my head, I connect the last of the terminals, and set my hands on my hips. “Michigan.”
“That’s a long way. You got family here, or somethin’?”
I pause at the question for a minute. “No. Why don’t you try starting it.”
“Yeah, all right,” she says, as she sets the boy down and scrambles to the driver’s seat. The clicking sound that follows is a bad sign, particularly when the headlights pop on, and when the car doesn’t turn over, my suspicions are confirmed.
“I’m no mechanic, but I’m guessing it’s a bad starter.”
“Are you kidding me?” She slams her hands against the steering wheel and groans. “Like I need this shit right now.”
“Momma, is da caw bwoke?” the little boy asks beside her.
“Yeah, Sweets. I think it’s really broke.”
Walk away. I can hear Russ’s voice inside my head. Selfish, cold Russ, who wouldn’t save a puppy from drowning if it meant having to put down his beer.
Walk. Away, Cely. No connections to this place.
“I can give you a ride. Somewhere.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can even process the consequence of such a thing. It’s not like she’d be shopping at Gaspard’s if she lived far away. Surely, there’s a better store, with a better cereal selection. And sandwiches, for that matter. “Do you live nearby?”
“My sister’s working just up the road a couple miles. I can run in and get the keys to her car from her. If you don’t mind driving me?”
Her sister. Brie.
I can’t. One look at my old friend, and who knows what that’ll mean. “I actually don’t mind driving you home.”
“If it’s no trouble, I have a few more stops to make?”
Oh, no. I’m not volunteering to be her chauffeur for the night. Although, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to let this woman drive when she’s high, either. Not with a little boy in tow. But maybe Brie will take notice and talk her out of it, so I don’t have to be the hypocritical public service announcement for this woman. I can always stay in the car while she grabs the key.
“Your sister is just up the road?”
“Yeah, right up Twenty-Third.”
“Okay, I’ll take you there.”
Smiling, she gathers up her grocery bags and son, and loads them into the truck. Groceries in the back, child in front.
I scratch the back of my neck as I watch her strap her son into the seat belt on the bench between the two of us. “Uh. Should he have a car seat, or something?”
“Nah. He’s a big boy. It’s only two miles.”
A lot can happen in two miles. For instance, I could be so desperate to get her out of my truck, that I accidentally step on the gas and draw the unwanted attention of a cop. Or I could be so damn preoccupied at the thought of seeing an old friend that I blow right through a red light and get T-boned at the intersection.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind if you want to grab it.” Of course, now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing one in her vehicle, either.
“Look, it’s literally two minutes away, and I promise, we’ll be out of your hair.”
Two minutes. I can deal with two minutes. Drive slow. Don’t blow through a red light.
Simple.
Okay. Once everyone’s mostly strapped in, I pull out of the store lot and head down Twenty-Third, as she instructs. Though I feel the boy’s eyes on me the whole time, I don’t dare take my eyes off the road. Not with a minute and ten seconds left on the clock.
The main strip is flanked by old-fashioned brick buildings that remind me of the French Quarter, with their cast-iron balconies adorned with sprawling flowered vines. Black and white striped awnings stretch over bustling cobblestone sidewalks, where corner bookstores, coffee shops, restaurants, and small boutiques give it a mystical Diagon Alley sort of charm. On the south side of the street,