Uriel: The Inheritance (Airel Saga Book Five)

Chapter XV

I HAD DRIVEN ALL the way out to Ontario, right on the other side of the Idaho-Oregon border, by the time I came to my senses. I turned around on the first overpass, crossed back over the Snake River, and pulled the FJ into the Idaho welcome center rest area. I got out and walked to the bluff that overlooked the river, the empty snow-covered corn fields stretching out in late autumnal slumber just beyond.

Time didn't register. I couldn't even remember how I'd ended up over here or where I'd driven all night. I was only a half an hour from Boise, but somewhere in the night I lost track; all I could hear was Michael telling me to leave. I was numb and wordless as my mind replayed our conversation over and over again.

If there was any hard and fast rule for my life, it was that there was no hard and fast rule, no common thread that could provide meaning or context. Is this what womanhood is? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?

I stood in the cold feeling like a ghost, watching my breath rise and cool to be carried away by the harsh dead winds that whipped at me. I stared at the river below as the sun rose behind me. When the first orange-red rays shot forth from the sun to cast the opening shadows of the day, I had made my decision—I needed sanctuary.

That was what I wanted more than anything. I wanted to go to a place that was safe for me, to be alone and think all these things over, try to get my arms around what was happening in my life, try to make sense of it all.

So it would be the public library, then.

But first, I needed breakfast. I was starving. And I wanted my coconut latté fix too, so I drove back into town intending to stop in at Moxie for a while, to take some time to breathe. But then I realized that I had too many memories there. I certainly couldn't go to my regular coffee shop, the one where I had first met Michael. Not right now. Perhaps never again. I realized that someone or something had been working very hard to take even this away from me. It pissed me off beyond words.

This new crisis produced a mild conundrum as to whether or not I would suffer myself to brave the domain of the green mermaid and burnt gunko. Maybe I should try something else entirely.

I ended up grabbing a table at Denny's, for crying out loud.

It was the only place I could think of that might allow me to go both unnoticed and unmolested. In other words, it wasn't Moxie, it wasn't the Sunrise Café—it wasn't any number of places I had ever been with Kim or Michael or Ellie or James the demon boy or anyone else.

I was so frustrated—everything had been taken from me. I kept my head down all through my meal, scrolling through my social media "news" feeds on my phone. Big surprise—there was nothing happening in my world. But of course, everyone had their little OMG moments in their status updates, freaking out about meaningless nonsense. The usual.

After breakfast, I sought refuge in my sanctuary—the public library by my house. That was my go-to place whenever I felt harried or overwhelmed. It was calming for me.

I felt a deep need for poetry. I could taste my own hunger for it.

I knew where I was going. The Dewey Decimal System wasn't as relevant to me as the physical layout of the place was—I knew which shelf I wanted. And though I was no expert, I at least knew a little Frost, a little Whitman. I knew they might have something to cure what ailed me.

As I approached the correct part of the stacks, I noticed a guy about my age in the poetry section. He was lying propped up on the carpet on his elbows, a notebook and his phone nearby, a volume in his hand, totally engrossed. As I got closer, I recognized him. Black hair, cool jeans, distressed T-shirt with a soda-pop logo on it. Dirk Elliot.