On The Run

Chapter Forty-Seven - "Ego Vobis Valedico"

“Not just yet. Go back to sleep,” I said, pulling the covers over her.

She lay back down on her side, still facing me, her eyes open, “I’m up.”

I raised a brow, “It’s six a.m., Chloe. Don’t be silly.”

“Don’t you have a road trip to begin?” she muttered, curling up under the covers.

“Crap. I need a shower,” I said, pulling off my shirt and throwing it over her face, heading out the door at the sound of her chuckle.

Ricky was sitting at the island, a bowl of untouched cereal in front of him, as he stared absentmindedly at the floor.

“Rick?”

He jumped, “Oh, hey. I wasn’t sure what time we were supposed to head out. Are you ready?” He frowned at my topless chest and muttered, “Stupid question.”

He seemed a little distracted, but he was here, and for me, that was all that mattered.

“I’ll be done in ten,” I said with a half-smile, “You can pack up a bag of snacks or . . . alcohol or something. If you want.”

He nodded and turned to our maze of shelves.

“Rick?”

He turned, “Yeah?”

“Your breakfast.”

He shook his head, “Right. I forgot . . . Yeah,” he said, sitting back down. I couldn’t really trust that he’d remember to pack drinks or food, at this rate.

I hurried into the shower and got dressed as fast as I could. I had no idea where we were going, but with the holidays in full swing and the New Year quickly approaching, I figured everyone would be out and about at the crack of dawn to get past the rush hour traffic of employees stuck working on New Year’s Eve, and holidayers heading in and out of town.

I went back into Chloe’s room. She was fast asleep, my t-shirt still over her face. I pulled it off and brushed her messy hair off her face gently, to avoid waking her. I gently crept out as she stirred slightly, dreading the day ahead.

Surprisingly enough, Rick remembered to pack up the bag, and was sticking it in the truck when I got downstairs. I was holding onto the urn our mother’s ashes were in, and I saw Ricky retreat a little as I asked, “Um . . . you want to—”

He cut in, “No,” he stared at me wide-eyed.

“It’s okay,” I said, stepping away, and putting it between us in front. “You ready for this?” I asked hesitantly. I really didn’t want to do this alone, but if Ricky didn’t want to, I couldn’t force him to.

He shrugged and got in the passenger seat, reclining his seat.

It was going to be a really long trip if I didn’t de-intensify the air.

“Hey, Rick,” I said, getting in the driver’s seat, “Um, so I’m really sorry about everything I said last night. I had no right, and this is obviously much harder for you than it is for me, and—”

He interjected, “No. We both lost our mom; we can’t compare our grief. Let’s just do this, please. I can’t dwell anymore.”

I nodded slowly, “Okay,” I replied, strapping myself in and slowly setting out of the garage door of the auto shop, taking in the first rays of morning light as the sun peeped out behind a set of cirrus clouds.

“Fitch? I’m sorry, but I need to . . . I have to see Lexie. Five minutes, please. I just— I need to,” Ricky said, breaking the awkward silence that had been suffocating me for at least ten minutes.