We Are All the Same in the Dark - Julia Heaberlin Page 0,92

his boot.

“Why do you want an asshole like that for a partner?”

“You know, keep your enemies close.”

“Was Odette your enemy?”

He’s not meeting my eyes. “We can try to jump your car or call your rental company. But I could also get a pal out here with a new battery in a few hours, no questions asked. It’ll be on me. You going to be smart enough to take that generous offer?”

“Yes.” I’m still barely above a whisper.

“Can I get your first name in return?”

“Angel.” It comes out cracked.

“Angel. Really.”

“Really.” I wipe the back of my hand across my nose. Feel mascara stinging. I keep my eyes down, on the dirt.

“What’s the real reason for this obsession with Odette? Your connection?”

“Metaphysical.” Not a lie. It has been, from the very beginning, since I first ran my finger on her metal leg. I hope she does hear when I talk to her in the dark.

“You going to tell me how you really know all this shit?”

“Not until I trust you.” My voice, stronger.

“That needs to be soon. Where am I dropping you off?”

I decide what the hell, and lift my head.

“On Normal Street.” It slips out so easily.

“And I thought Odette was my match. Get in the car.”

I slide in again. Rusty yanks the wheel, making a tight U-turn. In less than a minute, the lake sweeps into view. Four teenagers are swinging their legs on the dock, dumping their red Solo cups of beer in the water as the cruiser passes. I remember doing that. A hundred yards to their right, little kids are practicing football on the grass, all helmet and feet. I take another shaky breath. Normal.

“I made Odette listen to the Turnpike Troubadours until she loved them as much as I did,” Rusty is saying. “I take it you know this, but Goodbye Normal Street was our anthem. Lust and desperation in a small town. Whenever we’d hit a bad domestic, one of us would say it under our breath, ‘Goodbye Normal Street.’” He swerves onto the highway. “Music makes life bearable to me. She made life bearable.”

“Odette isn’t alive,” I say.

“I know,” he replies.

54

When I reach the cemetery gates, I’m sucking at humid air, a sharp ping on my right side. The sun has about three minutes left.

Go ahead, dark. Come. Everything bad that ever happened to me has happened while the sun was out. Here in the dark with a couple of acres of dead people, I can be just another stone angel kneeling. I can clap my hands in prayer and be still, while someone walks right past me. I’ve done it before, by my mother’s grave.

It was a 3.8-mile run out here in 95-degree heat, a lot of it on dirt road. The GPS on my phone didn’t map the ruts. One of my knees is bleeding from a little tumble. The scratch on my arm from the barbed wire has opened up.

I think my heels are bloody, too, because sweat doesn’t feel that thick. I drop down on the nearest flat grave marker—sorry, Dexter Daniel Hughes—and yank off my cheap new running shoes. I examine my feet. They’re a complete mess—a perfectly disgusting Facebook post if I did that sort of thing and if I weren’t afraid my father would recognize even the torn-up skin on my toes.

Yes, Rusty, I’m a girl always running. And something made me decide to run back here.

An hour and a half ago, Rusty did exactly what I wanted—he dropped me off at the Dairy Queen. He didn’t act like he cared where I was going to sleep. He said I could come get my car tomorrow morning by eight in the parking lot of the library in the center of town. I’m certain that he or his partner will be waiting when I do. So now I have to decide if I can get by without one.

Until I was sure Rusty had taken off, I got lost in the Walmart next door to the Dairy Queen. I bought a bottle of water, more sour gummies, a little flashlight, running shoes, socks, shorts, and a $7 T-shirt that says Be Kind across the chest in gold sequins. I wonder what Odette would think if she knew people have had to be reminded of that for the last five years.

In the bathroom, I changed from my dress and flip-flops, stuffing them into the Walmart bag along with the hamburger and onion rings Rusty bought me as part of his