On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Sixteen - "Collision"

Hey guys,

I just wanted to thank you all so much for reading and for ALL of your lovely comments. I love reading them, and I'm really moved by the passion some of you feel about this story! I just wanted to say thanks, truly, and keep 'em coming. :)

This story is quite dear to my heart and the fact that it has reached just the right people on the same mental wavelength as myself - and, as the story - is better than I could have imagined.

I hope that you keep enjoying it, and I'm really glad I get to share it with you.

Thanks.

S.

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Chloe

She stared wide-eyed as she croaked, “You know.”

I shrugged, “Lucky guess.”

She stared dumbfounded at me.

The silence was unnerving. “You see a stranger more than twice in this city, you’ve gotta be related to them.” I was trying to make light of the situation, even though there was nothing light about it. It was all weight.

She sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is,” I murmured, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe I was staring right at my mother.

My boyfriend had been arrested; I had nowhere to live; and yet all I could think about was the fact that she was standing right in front of me.

“I always imagined this differently,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t,” I replied.

“Really?”

“I never imagined it,” I said with a shrug. All my life, I’d tried not to think about her. Annie and Harold told me about her when I was about eight years old, and before I could fully process it, they were dead, and then, they were all I could think about.

“You can’t stay here,” she said, non sequitur.

“It’s warmer inside the truck,” I replied quickly.

“I have an extra room,” she said.

No.

“I can’t . . .” I trailed off with a frown, “I’m fine.”

“Chloe—” she began.

“No. I’m fine, really. I stayed here for a week when I first got to the city, and I was fine. I’m tougher than I look,” I said, trying not to think about Fitch just yet, or I might break down. I needed to be alone to do that.

“A week?” she asked wide-eyed and appalled.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I replied.

I couldn’t tell if she was more disgusted or scared, as she shook her head. “Please don’t stay here. I don’t even know how long it’ll take to get him a hearing. Even if you don’t stay with me, I don’t mind, as long as it isn’t here.”

I swallowed, “He’s going to be fine, right? Fitch?” I felt my eyes well up, and I blinked back the tears. I would not cry in front of this woman, even if she had been the first to see me ever cry; I couldn’t handle her sympathy or pity.

She nodded, “Yes, he’s going to be just fine, I promise. So are you.”

Just when I’d start to think of her as Fitch’s lawyer, I’d remember: This is the woman who gave birth to me. What was I supposed to do with this information?