Micha
There she is, the girl I used to know. It's visible in her green eyes that she's getting turned on. She was always weird like that, the speed, the danger always got her own engine burning. Then I have to slow down and all the fire dissolves. She puts on her seatbelt and mutters something about the Ella I know being gone forever, but I'm calling her out. I have big plans to bring my best friend back, whether she likes it or not.
She's wearing a short skirt and tank top that's tight enough to show off her curves. It's driving me crazy that I can't touch her.
"What happened to the turnout?" she asks as we drive by the spot we use to park at during small town cruising. "It looks like you can't even take the road up to the cove anymore."
"You can if you walk or have four-wheel drive and ramp the hill." The turnout is blocked off by a large fence so that no cars can reach the dirt road that leads to a secluded area near the lake. "They blocked it off after they busted a bunch of people for drug and alcohol possession."
"Anyone I know?" she inquires, feigning indifference.
I thrum my fingers on top of the steering wheel. "Yeah, you're sitting next to one of them. But mine was only for alcohol."
Her friend gasps in the backseat and I catch Ella secretly rolling her eyes.
"What'd you get?" she asks nonchalantly.
"Probation and anger management classes." I return her indifference.
Her head turns toward me. "Anger management classes?"
"I also punched Grantford Davis in the face," I explain. "Pretty hard. Broke his nose and everything."
Her friend gasps again and I wonder how Ella could be friends with her. She seems like a naive princess.
Ella studies me acutely with her beautiful eyes that always give away what she's really thinking. "Why did you punch him?"
"I think you know why." I carry her gaze forcefully.
"I asked him to drive me to the bridge, Micha," she says it like it strangles her. "It wasn't his fault. He was just doing it as a favor."
"He should have never left you there alone." I flip the blinker on, making a turn down a dirt road that leads into a field of tall, dry grass. "Not in that condition. You could barely think straight. In fact, do you even remember anything about that night?"
She fiddles with a band of bracelets on her wrists. "I'm not sure."
"Are you not sure?" I accuse. "Or do you not want to admit it?"
She starts to open her mouth, but then clamps her lips shut, and turns toward the window, dismissing me and the conversation.
Ella
The night I went to the bridge, I had been in a weird funk the entire day. My mom died a few weeks earlier and I couldn't seem to get rid of this vile feeling in my chest and I wanted it to go away. Badly. So I took drastic measures and decided to walk in my mother's footsteps for a night.
My mom wasn't awful. She had her good moments, but had a lot of bad ones too. When she was up, she was great - a lot of fun. At least that's what I thought when I was young. However, when I got older, there was a painful realization that it wasn't normal to go on huge shopping sprees, take off in the middle of the night for a road trip, pretend she could fly...
But the night on the bridge wasn't the worst night I'd ever experienced. It was just the last push to my rapid decline toward the loss of control over my life.
"Ella, where are you?" Micha's voice snaps me out of my own head. "You were dazing off on me there."
We're parked in front of Grady's single-wide trailer located in a field, near a junkyard and an abandoned apartment complex. I unbuckle my seatbelt, climb out of the car, and flip the seat forward to let Lila out.
"No thanks." She shakes her head, cowering back in the seat. "I think I'll wait in here."
"You're much safer inside." Micha points to a crumbling shack in the middle of the field. "That's a crack house over there and trust me, if they see you sitting in here, by yourself, they're going to come over and harass you."
Micha's messing with her, but I let him be because this place isn't that safe of a spot.
Her face pinches and she scrambles out of the car. "Who is this person's house we're at? It's not a drug dealer, is it?"
"No, it's just an old friend." I trade a secret glance with Micha and feelings rush through me like the sun and the wind. Grady was once Micha's stepfather. His mother and Grady were married for a few years and most of our happy childhood memories consist of him, camping, fishing, working on cars. Between the ages of eight and nine life was solid, not broken to pieces.
I meet Micha around the front of the car and when he takes my hand, I don't object. Being here is like traveling through time and it hurts to know that the man who showed me that life can be good is dying.
Lila tugs the bottom of her dress down self-consciously. "Are you sure I'm okay going in here?"
"Relax," I tell her as we reach the rickety front porch. "Grady is a good guy, he just likes living an unmaterialistic lifestyle. He chooses to live in a place like this."
She forces a tense smile. "Alright, I'm relaxing."
Micha squeezes my hand and then knocks on the door. A few knocks later and we let ourselves in. It's like I remember, and it makes me smile because it's comforting. Grady was a big traveler when he was younger and his walls map his destinations; petite nesting dolls from his trip to Russia on a small bookshelf, a painted Bokota mask from Africa hooked to the wall, a large hookah from Nepal sitting on a small fold up table. It overwhelms me and tugs at my memories.
The trailer is small with a narrow kitchen connected to a boxed in living room and the three of us nearly fill up the space.
Micha slides his hand up my arm and draws me to him. "Are you going to be okay?"
I nod, forcing the tears away. Micha kisses my temple and I don't retreat this time, allowing myself one small moment.
"It'll be okay," Micha says. "And I'm here for you."
Time's up.
"Where is he?" I take a deep breath, move away from Micha, and smother the old Ella away. He points over my shoulder. I turn around and my heart drops to my stomach. The medium build, tall man, with bright blue eyes and a head full of hair, has shifted into a frail, skeletal figure, with sunken eyes and his head shaved. His plaid jacket drowns his body and the belt around his jeans has holes added to it.
I hesitate to hug him. "How are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm always okay. You know that. Not even a little cancer can bring me down." He smiles and it's just as bright as it was. Using his cane, he hobbles toward me. I meet him halfway, in front of the tattered leather recliner and give him a gentle hug, afraid I might break him.
"How have you been, my little Ella May?" He steps back to take a look at me. "You look different."
I self-consciously touch my hair. "I changed my looks a little. Thought I could use a change or two."
He shakes his head contemplatively. "No, it's not that. There's something else. You seem sad."
"I'm fine," I deny and not very well. "I feel great."
He offers me a tolerant smile. "You've never been a good liar, you know that. I always knew it was you who broke the vase."
From behind me, Micha nods concurring. "It's her eyes. They show way too much. Although she thinks differently."
"If you knew I broke the vase," I say, "then why didn't you call me out on it?"
Grady laughs and exchanges a look with Micha. "Because the elaborate story you made up won my heart over, I guess. Besides, it was just a vase."
The tension resolves, except with Lila who looks like she doesn't know what to do with herself. She dawdles near the door, fidgeting with her watch and her hair as she glances around the snug trailer.
"Grady, this is Lila," I introduce, motioning her to come closer. "She was my college roommate."
Lila steps forward and gives him a small wave. "It's nice to meet you."
"Same here." Grady nods his head welcomingly and then arches his eyebrows at me. "So college? That's where you ran off to."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I called," I apologize. "I just needed a break. From everything."
"I'm not going to lie and say it didn't hurt a little." He rests his weight on the cane, and his arms and legs look too thin to be moving. "You're like a daughter to me and I thought you trusted me enough to come to me if you were going through something."
His eyes dart to Micha and I wonder if he's told Grady about that night eight months ago on the bridge.
"I need to make a phone call." Micha holds up his phone as he backs for the door. "Lila, why don't you come outside with me?"
Lila gladly obliges and the door swings shut behind them, rocking the house.
Grady collapses into the recliner, sighing with relief. "We need to talk."
Preparing myself for a lecture, I drop into the concaved sofa across from him. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"Do you think you need to be in trouble?" He props his cane against the coffee table.
I pull a throw pillow on my lap and slump back into the couch. "I don't know. It's hard to tell what's right and what's wrong anymore or what's up and what's down even."
He rocks in the recliner. "You've always had a good grasp on what's right and wrong. You just have a hard time admitting that sometimes you choose the wrong."
"I know that." I gesture at myself. "That's why I changed into an Ella who doesn't do any wrong and who can keep control of her life."