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“You’ll come up with something.”
I yanked the handle and he let me close the door. When the car pulled
away, I was completely alone, watching the streets go by with a driver who
was blissfully untalkative.
Except I wanted to talk. My friends had moved on. My family was
dead. On the way to nowhere, I’d burned every bridge behind me.
Doreen would know what to do, and if she didn’t, she’d listen to me talk
until I found the solution myself. I could tell her anything, except the
problem of her son.
My mother in-law would never be mine. I had a dead mother and a
stepmother who hated me.
Bianca stonewalled.
Asked about missing stones among the ones I’d skimmed for years,
she’d said nothing.
I’d put her in a position to answer for things I’d done. I’d carelessly
passed my wrongdoing on to her. She’s been put on the spot because of me.
That wasn’t fair.
Nothing she’d done was fair, but that didn’t excuse me.
“Hey,” I said to the driver a second before I actually decided what to do.
“Yeah?” he looked at me in the rearview.
“Can you take me to West Hollywood instead?”
Bianca was, as always, a cartoon of herself, answering the door in a purple
muumuu and full makeup. A white poodle barked at her feet.
“Ella!” she cried, actually smiling as if she was glad to see me. She
scooped up the dog and moved aside. “Come in!”
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Nonsense!” She closed the door and held up the poodle. “You haven’t
met Mr. Tubbs.” She addressed the dog. “Mr. Tubbs, this is Ella.”
“Hi, you’re cute.” I patted his head.
“Mr. Tubbs keeps me company now that you’re gone.” She clapped
down the hall as if she hadn’t just said something absurd.
“I moved out when I was eighteen.”