The Ties That Bind: Portrait Of An American Family

Portrait Of An American Family

Chapter Two

Marilyn

The motel room feels like a cage as we wait for the state's decision. The conversation with the social worker didn't go as planned. They were more interested in paperwork and procedures than in what Cece actually needed—a safe place, a fresh start. I could see the fear and disappointment growing in her eyes with every word that came out of that woman's mouth.

I'm pacing the room, my frustration building. The band's outside, loading up the gear, getting ready to hit the road for the next gig. We've only got a few shows left before we head back home, and I can't stop thinking about what'll happen to Cece if we leave her here. She'll be thrown back into the system, back into the hell she's been running from. And for what? Because some bureaucrat decided she doesn't fit into their neat little boxes?

I stop pacing, my mind made up. If the state doesn't care about giving her a safe place to live, then they must not care if she disappears altogether.

I walk over to the bed where Cece is sitting, her hands twisted together in her lap. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Get on the bus, Cece."

She blinks, confusion crossing her face. "What?"

"Get on the bus," I repeat, my voice firm. "We're leaving. You're coming with us."

She shakes her head, panic creeping into her voice. "You can't take me across the state line, Marilyn. You'll all get arrested."

I crouch down in front of her, my hands resting on her knees. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. I can see the conflict there, the fear of what might happen if she says yes. But I can also see the desperation, the need to believe that this time, someone's got her back.

"Yes," she finally whispers.

"Then get on the bus."

She takes a deep breath and nods, standing up and grabbing her bag. I can see her hands shaking as she slings it over her shoulder, but there's a determination in her eyes now—a spark of hope that I'm not about to let die.

We leave the room together, stepping out into the bright morning sunlight. The band's already packed up and ready to go, the bus engine rumbling to life. Daisy gives me a look as we approach, but I just nod. He knows what this means, what we're about to do.

As we reach the bus, Cece hesitates again, looking back at the motel as if she's leaving something important behind. But then she turns back to me, and I can see the resolve in her eyes.

I open the door to the bus, and she steps inside, her small frame dwarfed by the worn leather seats and cluttered floor. The rest of the band is already seated, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. They know what this means, what kind of risk we're taking, but they're with me on this. We're not leaving her behind.

I climb in after her, shutting the door behind us. As I take my seat at the front, I glance back at her. She's sitting near the middle, staring out the window as the bus starts to pull away. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she's gripping her bag like it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

"We're gonna be okay," I say, loud enough for her to hear over the rumble of the engine. "We'll get through this."

She doesn't respond, but I see her nod slightly, her gaze still fixed on the passing scenery. I turn back to face the road ahead, the weight of what we're doing settling in my chest. We're crossing a line—literally and figuratively—and there's no going back now.