See You in the Morning

20 // Quintet

Michelle wakes on the first morning of the brand new year to a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Get up. We're going for a long drive," Joseph says gently.

Grumbling, Michelle lets her complaints be known as she begrudgingly gets out of bed. She had fallen asleep listening to the Foo Fighters long before the clock struck midnight. And now, an angry red imprint of her headphone has tattooed itself across her cheek.

She shrugs on an oversized sweatshirt over a pair of leggings and jams the yellow beanie over her head before lumbering into the hallway.

In the bathroom, Michelle sleepily brushes her teeth before trudging to the front door, where her father is already warming up the car in the driveway. Grumbling, she steps out into the cold and clambers into the worn passenger seat of the family Altima.

"Here."

Joseph passes her a generous steamed bao wrapped in a damp paper towel. "Eat this. And then you can go back to sleep if you want."

"Where are we going?" Michelle mumbles, accepting the hot bun.

"You'll see."

Her father's mouth stretches into a resolved line. Without another word, he throws the car into reverse and begins to drive.

Too tired to argue, Michelle sinks her teeth into the soft, doughy bao and chews. The savory pork filling settles her. When she finishes eating, she leans her head against the window and drifts in and out of an intermittently lucid sleep.

She dreams of Ezra and the look of confusion on his face the day she ran away from him in the auditorium. As he lifts his hands in protest, his fingers unravel like soft, yellow yarn. The yarn morphs into a thick swamp, trapping her legs and slowing her movements down. Somewhere beyond the swamp, a woman's voice calls her name.

Michelle. Michelle...

"Josie?" Michelle says as she casts a wild glance around the dreamscape. "Is that you?"

There is no response. The voice continues to echo around her like a mournful bell.

"Who's there?" she shouts.

Michelle!

The sun's rays warm her face through the passenger side window when she finally wakes.

Michelle rubs her eyes as she stares outside – gone are the suburban views of Marbleton and its cozy local haunts. In its place, Michelle sees the sparkling water of the Hudson Bay and the iconic cityline of Manhattan ahead.

"Michelle!" her father says brightly. "We're here!"

"Dad?" she croaks. "Where are we?"

"Just crossing the George Washington Bridge."

Blinking, Michelle bids the remnants of her strange dream to dissolve.

"Dad," she says again. "Why are we in New York City?"

Joseph pauses.

"Because there's someone I want you to meet."

A cascade of anticipation and nerves fizz through Michelle's body, and her throat becomes suddenly dry. If the voice in her dream didn't belong to Josie, then that could only mean one thing.

The voice in her dream belonged to her mother.

The same mother who left her all those years ago, and the same mother her father was bringing her to meet this very moment.

Michelle stares beyond the car window as the Altima enters the city limits. How many times has she wondered what it would be like to finally meet Evanna? How often has she imagined their hypothetical conversations, what subjects they'd discuss, and whether they were alike at all?