Within/Without

chapter forty-seven.

Simon

I'm not in the mood for a long car ride, especially a long car ride no one will give me a concrete reason for. Every time I ask, Noah, Val, and Larry all look away. Out the window or at their laps or wherever my face isn't. There's something they're not telling me, but in retrospect it doesn't matter, because I'm pretty sure I already know.

    Hours pass. We leave Boston and the roads get emptier and longer and wider. A headache starts at the back of my head and spreads like a cancer through my entire skull. When I start to shake again, Noah stops the car and lets the seizure run its course. It's not a seizure, not really, but I don't have another name for it and my head hurts too much to think of one. My vision blurs, and for a second I forget where the hell we're even going. I ask Val, beside me, "Wait, when did we get in the car?"

    "Two hours ago," Val says, questioning. "We're another sixty or so miles from Marwick, remember? I just told you that a few minutes ago."

    "Oh."

    Out of the corner of my eye I notice Larry watching us in the rearview. When he catches my gaze he looks away instantly, and though I want to scream at him, just yell at him to spit it out, I can't find the strength to.

    The gas stations start to grow worryingly sparse, so Noah makes a quick pit stop. He hops out to fill the tank. Larry gets out to go the bathroom, practically stomping into the convenience store. Val is asleep on my shoulder; it's two o'clock in the afternoon, I realize, which is when she always hits her energy slump. I sigh and guide her down to my lap, resting her head on my thigh. She stirs and blinks up at me, opening her mouth to speak.

    "It's okay," I say, stroking her cheek. She smiles and closes her eyes again. "Go ahead. Go to sleep."

    "Mhm," she murmurs, rolling onto her side and pressing her face into my stomach. "Don't mind if I do."

    A moment later her face is slack with unconsciousness, and I chuckle softly. I have always been impressed by her ability to fall asleep literally anywhere. Even in the cramped backseat of Noah's jalopy.

    Outside, I hear a voice, emphatic but quiet, like it's trying not to be heard. A second later, I realize it's Noah's. He's leaning against the window, so I can only see the front of his Chuck Norris T-shirt, but just from the way he sounds, I can see the frown on his face.

    "No, I—Dad, calm down. Please? I promise that Larry and I have got this under control. Don't you trust me?"

    Silence.

    "I know," he says then. "I know. Me too. Everything's going to be fine. We'll be there in half an hour, probably—can you just do me a favor? Yeah. Don't tell Abbie."

    Don't tell Abbie?

    Don't tell Abbie what?

    "Okay. I'll see you soon. Love you, Dad."

    Noah's hand lowers as he slides his phone back into his pocket. He turns to finish up with the gas and I swivel my head around, trying not to look like I was eavesdropping when I was very obviously eavesdropping.

    The car door clicks open, letting in a wave of cool air. It's not as frigid as it was this morning back in Boston, but it's certainly not warm, either. Noah pokes his head in; he's chewing on a toothpick I don't remember him retrieving. His gold eyes land on Val. "Aw," he says, smiling, toothpick and all. "The princess sleeps."

    I move one of her locs out of her face; she curls further against me, grasping at my shirt. "I would be tired, too," I whisper. "If the roles were flipped."