Her whole face, apart from those big blue eyes, is empty.
Guilt overwhelms me as I realize I’ve forgotten what my mother looks like.
I guess papa was right. I guess she really doesn’t want anything to do with me. What kind of a daughter forgets her own mother’s face?
Pain twists in my chest like a knife. I’m suffocating, like I can’t breathe, and I take in spurts of air, feeling just as trapped as I did in first grade when Logan leaned across the aisle and introduced himself.
In his eyes I saw a look of pure freedom. Somewhere deep in my heart was the conviction that he would one day leave Oakley behind. And the equally strong conviction that I never would.
He was free, and I was trapped.
It was jealousy that had me leaning back to him and whispering, “I don’t care.”
Jealousy, and an inexplicable sense of loss.
The same loss that had me staring out the airplane window that summer, counting the miles that stretched between me and mamaí.
An absurd sense of loss, because Logan was no one to me. Just some boy I’d never laid eyes on until that moment.
So why did knowing he’d leave hurt me just as much as knowing she’d left?
I shake the painful memories from my mind. Going to Ireland sounds like a good next step, but I don’t have a penny to my name. Strange to realize that when I’ve been living in relative luxury all my life. Well, the kind of luxury that a shitty place like Oakley affords. A thin varnish of gold to make the bars of the cage sparkle.
I don’t even have a bank account. How do people open bank accounts anyway?
Not that I should. They’d find it in a second. What I need to do is go into hiding. Off the grid. No bank account, no passport, nothing.
It’s a good thingnothingis exactly what I have.
_
It’s early morning by the time I realize my tank of gas is running dangerously low. Aurora has started to stir in the back seat, and I realize that if it’s not gas, it’s hunger that’s going to force us to stop soon.
Anyway, I’ve gone far enough. I must have been driving nonstop for four hours at least, taking every exit that I could, turning onto each new road I crossed. Just so I could make my path as muddled as possible.
Good luck hunting me, bastards.
I pull up to the closest gas station I can find. It’s been a while since I’ve left the highway, and this gas station is in a dump of a town that could give Oakley a run for its money.
I’m about to stop next to the pump when I suddenly realize that I only have forty dollars.
Fuck. I really should have taken the rest of Logan’s money.
Guilt is the furthest thing from my mind right now, as I’m forced to choose between gas and food.
Food wins out when Aurora wakes up with a whine.
“Hungry,mama! Want milk, mama!”
Gritting my teeth, I drive past the gas station, next to a diner that seems to be the only other commerce in town.
I unbuckle Aurora, lift her out of her seat, and set her down on the ground. She stretches her little hand up to me, and I squeeze it. I cross the street slowly, waiting for her to toddle after me.
Running with a little girl is a lot more complicated. But thank god she’s with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.
As we draw near the diner, I notice the sign on the window:Help wanted.
This is starting to feel like my lucky day. Maybe I can work here for a few weeks and save up enough to get plane tickets for Ireland.