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babe.

“Shhhh,” she crooned. “I’m here. Your mother is here. I will always be your best friend. Isn’t that what we promised each other? To be best friends forever? You’ll never need anyone else. Not while I’m alive.”

Not while I’m alive.

Kristina heard the words echo in her mind even as the rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. She shook the memory away and peered into the sky. A line of thick, black storm clouds was moving in from the west. The wind was picking up, too. Kristina was not a skilled driver and the thought of driving through a storm had her gripping the steering wheel tighter. She reached over to turn the dial of the radio stations to find the local weather. She paused when she heard a weatherman reporting a fast-moving storm front heading toward the Augusta/Aiken area. Flash flood warnings were issued.

Kristina felt a flicker of fear and pressed the gas pedal harder in hopes of getting out of the path of the storm. Within minutes, fat raindrops splattered across her windshield. Feeling her heart quicken, Kristina flicked on the windshield wipers and turned on the headlights. She wished the wipers could sweep away the memories flooding her brain, too.

Kristina and her mother had lived in a state of war since that first big argument about Joe. Despite Deborah’s ceaseless haranguing, berating, and even the occasional beating, Kristina had refused to stop seeing Joe. What could Deborah do to stop her? Especially once Kristina discovered that Deborah had been collecting disability payments for her sick child. Things in the small brick house went from bad to worse. Word got out that Kristina could walk, and the neighborly charity dried up. As the house fell into disrepair, Deborah turned to drinking, blaming Kristina, of course, for being such a horrid daughter and driving her to it. Deborah would pass out when drunk, which was frequent, giving Kristina the chance to sneak out and visit with Joe.

Their love was the purest thing Kristina had ever known. Joe was kind and patient. They were each other’s best friend. They spent every free quiet hour together, lying side by side on his bed in his room, talking, watching TV, listening to music or reading books. Or outdoors on his soft grass at night studying the stars. He taught her how to throw a basketball. She taught him how to knit. He gave her chocolates, which she adored. She wrote him love letters that she’d leave in the fork of the tree that stood beside the chain-link fence.

And they kissed. They touched. Curious, but innocent. Once Joe began chemotherapy, he was uninterested, or unable, to pursue sex. She didn’t care. She was content loving him.

Their favorite thing was to lie in each other’s arms and make up stories about their love and how it would go on and on and they’d live happily ever after. Knowing it would—could—not happen made them all the more desperate to play the game. He called her his Cinderella because of the way the wicked “step” mother made her do all the chores and kept her hidden from the outside world. Which she’d thought was pretty spot-on. She called him her knight in shining armor because he had rescued a damsel in distress. Again, she nailed it.

Outside the little car, the rain became torrential. Kristina flicked the windshield wipers to a higher speed as the rain pummeled the roof and thunder roared around her. Kristina clenched her teeth as she turned on the emergency blinkers and slowed the car to a crawl in a long line of red lights barely visible in the thick fog. Over and over she had to reach up to the windshield in a desperate attempt to wipe away the mist. She leaned far over the wheel, trying to see more than ten feet ahead of the car.

From the distance she heard the wail of an ambulance then saw the blinking red lights approach. “Oh God Oh God,” she murmured as she wildly wondered what to do. There was no place to pull over and the ambulance was on her tail. Squinting, clutching the wheel, she spied a large green exit sign and, not caring where it led, she flicked the turn signal and took the exit. As the ambulance siren faded into the distance, Kristina inched her way off the ramp and to her eternal relief, spotted a gas station just ahead. Terrified she’d be hit by some oncoming car or truck she couldn’t see in the fog, she rolled down her window to better hear the traffic. Rain gusted in, drenching her. She quickly rolled the window back up, wiping her face with her hand. Throwing her fate into God’s hands, she drove across the street, breathing again when she made it safely to the entrance of the gas station. She parked beside a gas pump under the wide awning. The sudden silence was deafening. With a shaky hand, she turned off the ignition.

She was safe. For the moment. Her world was trapped inside this tin box. She felt wet and the humidity was building with the air-conditioning turned off. For no reason, and for a thousand reasons buried deep inside of herself, Kristina unbuckled her seat belt, brought her legs up to her chest, and burst into great heaving sobs.

Maybe she wasn’t brave enough for this journey. She didn’t think she could go any farther. She just wanted to return to her apartment, to Minnie and her books, where she felt warm and safe. Why had she started this quest? She’d finally created a life for herself that was predictable. Normal. Sustainable. Wasn’t that enough?

“Joe,” she called out into the vacuum. “I need you. I miss you so much.”

She cried for a long time. At last the heat and humidity overtook her and she fell into a deep sleep. The sound of an ambulance was the last thing she heard.

* * *

The flashing red lights in the driveway next door awakened

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