I close my eyes, willing myself to be respectful. This whole thing feels like it’s way outside of what my boss can legally require of me. At the same time, it’s exactly what I should’ve expected from him. He’s a coach, on the ice, off the ice—I doubt he ever stops thinking like one.
"Fine, but you’ll let me know if you need me, like for work stuff?" Opening my eyes, my gaze immediately lands on the freaking book that Beth gave me. It was stuffed in my suitcase, and I thought I'd won. But now, it’s propped open at the foot of my bed like it’s just waiting for me.
"Sure, talk to you in a few weeks."
"Like two? Three?"
"Sadie, I’m hanging up now. Take the month." The call goes dead, and I toss my phone onto the bed next to me.
A month, fuck my life.
I pick up the pillow opposite mine, push it over my face, and scream. I’ve never felt so out of control in my life.
"Sadie, everything okay in there?" my mom shouts.
I guess the pillow didn’t muffle my frustration as much as I’d hoped. "Yeah, I’m good."
Throwing the offending feather sack to the side, I sit up and grab the book. Beth’s letter falls out on my lap, and the first words I notice are:What’s over three but less than five is a number in time. Levi said a month, what’s between three and five—four weeks.
A rush of adrenaline courses through me. I don’t want to do this, but maybe if I do it on my own terms, if I choose it, then it won’t feel like such a burden. I don’t know if completing a crossword qualifies as something scary, and it’s definitely well inside my comfort zone. But submitting to it—that’s the very definition of giving up control.
"Mae, I promise I’ll be back in a few weeks. And I’m good for the rent, so don’t get any ideas about subletting my—"
A rabbit leaps and bounds across the road in front of me, stealing my train of thought and causing me to swerve. My car jerks as I barrel into the same pothole that’s lingered on this road for the last decade—a spot the town should have fixed where loose bricks gave way to nothing but gravel. A loudpop follows with a whistle of air that sounds like it’s rapidly escaping a too-small hole. The whizzing drifts through my rolled-down window. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I’m actually hearing it, or if by chance I’m assuming the worst when everything is fine.
"Your room?" My roommate chirps at me, bringing me back to the conversation. "You think I’d rent it for three or four weeks, Sadie? Do you not remember that I have trouble taking the trash out, let alone posting an ad online?"
Realistically, her confusion is valid. Why would she rent my room for what I explained would be a long vacay? But then again, what if it isn’t—what if Levi tells me I can’t come back from what happened, that I’ve become too much of a liability and failed to find the balance he thinks I need?
My car thumps, and the puzzle book flips open to the first clue taunting me from the passenger seat. I stifle a groan as I take stock of my location and remind myself that none of this is Mae’s problem to deal with.
"Mae… I have to go. Don’t rent my room. I’ll be back soon!" I say, smashing the end call button as quickly as I can.
At least I hope I will.
The clunking intensifies as I push my black sedan further, tightening my grip until my knuckles are white, as if it will help. The sound of what’s surely a flat tire, and a likely ruined rim, screeches and grinds against the cobblestone street, and my heart rate picks up further. Sparks bounce off the bricks, and smoke begins to plume.
"You’ve got to be kidding me, universe!" I shout into the void, relenting as I ease onto the curb in defeat. I’m supposed to meet Howie for lunch, and now I'm absolutely going to be late.
I push out of my car to assess the damage. "Stupid, useless piece of rubber"—I mutter to myself while I kick at my deflatedand all but shredded tire—"it wasn’t enough to be bad for the planet, you had to ruinmyday too?"
The street is empty, aside from Mr. Holland and his vastly overweight dachshund, who I know from many run-ins is named Spencer Lee. Both the dog and the man are hard of seeing, hearing, practically everything. They’re not going to be any help.
Opening my phone, I search for my cousin's name and call him.
"Sade? Is everything okay?" He answers after a half a ring, the noise of the lunch rush at Union Tavern bellowing in the background.
"No." I release a frustrated breath. "I have a flat."
"Sade, I can’t hear you. Did you say no?"
I yell into the phone, "I’m stranded on the side of the road." Mr. Holland looks in my direction, cocking his head to the side, but continues walking.
"Why are you whispering?"
"Howard! I’m not, turn the volume up on your freaking phone!" I shout, shaking my head, annoyed that this is a regular occurrence.
"Shit, sorry. I didn’t realize it was on low. I’m leaving work now. Where are you?"