Proxy [l.h]

11. Endings and Beginnings

I know what she means by the question. Will we be taking her back to Motion Records? Will she stay home? What will happen to us?

I think of the mental beating Ben will give us, the hard time she'll have fitting in, and to explain it to the staff and even to hide her from the fans...my brain hurts already.

"There's no choice but to take her home," I conclude, and Lissa's eyes go soft.

"She'll be unhappy," she says.

"I know." But I'm selfish, I want to say. I doubt she'll remember me or even feel the same way I feel for her. But I still want to take her with me.

Is that a bad thing?

+

"Take a left here," Lissa says to the taxi driver, peering into the map on her phone screen. We're sitting next to each other in the back seat to Eunice Denby's home address.

Like a movie, I'm already imagining the nurse, and I'm imagining her recognizing me on her doorstep, embracing me in a hug. "I know who you are," she'd say. "She's here with me. It's okay."

The city is beautiful. So is the wide blue sky, and I'd never noticed. For a second I even consider being a compassionate human being. But then I think, nah, rather not.

"I think today might be the best day of my life," I turn to Lissa, beaming.

She looks up from her phone and smiles back at me. "I hope it is."

"You have dimples," I tease, poking her left chin. She pauses in surprise.

"W-what?"

"When you smile. You only have one dimple," I tell her, grabbing her chin and turning her face sideways with a grin. "On the left side."

"Oh," she blushes, turning away from me. "Yeah, it was always like that. I guess I'm some sort of a defect."

"I think it's cute," I tell her mindlessly.

She proceeds in giving me strange looks the whole ride there, as if she's never seen someone act someone act so weird. I laugh to myself.

Lissa

If there was one thing I'd never have expected, it would be the fact that I just saw a black Mercedes, just like the one I saw in the alley so long ago: Michael's car, pass by on our left. I almost missed it; it was obscured by the hoods of other cars beside us and was racing the opposite way as us. My breath catches.

What was Michael up to? Where was he going and where was he coming back from? I just hope to god I'd mistaken another car.

And then my heart starts to pound. I think back to our meeting at the hotel yesterday, right before Luke had woken up. I need to tell Luke he's here. In California, with us. I just need to get him somewhere alone.

"Can we stop for coffee?" I interrupt suddenly, feeling stuffy inside the small vehicle. I point at a Starbucks I see a few blocks down. "Please, Luke? Can I get something? I'm really thirsty."

"Maybe later, Lissa. We're almost there, aren't we?" Luke says distractedly. He's only looking forward, his eyes focusing on the scenery outside. We pull into a quiet neighbourhood with Victorian-style houses and windy alleyways. "1268," Luke repeats the house number to the driver.

I gulp. "Luke, I have to tell you something important. Michael is-"

"Don't talk about Michael." Luke shudders. "You're totally ruining my mood."