Homewrecker

27 - 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓽

The Starbright Drive-In was preceded with a sprawling sign near the entrance of twisted neon lightbulbs forming the words STARBRIGHT DRIVE-IN, with yellow bulbs twisted into hollow stars and a moon around the corners of the S and N. It was painted a shade of navy blue that had started to chip away from the metal, exposing pieces of beige underneath, and a white arrow pointed down the pavement to the ticket booth a few yards from the street, more unlit lightbulbs occupying the white space.

Underneath the blue paint and lights was a marquee sign, with black letters advertising the movies playing later that night with their screens. There were five screens total for the drive-in, hedges separating their respective parking lots in an attempt to prevent screen jumping, and a concession stand was in the center of them all. In front of the first screen, there was a small playground, swings on a swing-set drifting back and forth in the breeze as Andi pulled into one of the parking spaces near the concession stand.

She hadn't spoken to me at all since she came into the bedroom about a half hour earlier, pulling open her closet door and telling me over her shoulder as she ripped her uniform shirt from its hanger. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

I wasn't sure when Amy told her about all this—about getting me a job where she worked, where she spent the summer hanging out with her friends and probably talking all about the half-sister she never asked for asleep in her bedroom—but her reaction to the news had been obvious, especially when in the completely quiet ride here.

She hadn't even turned the radio on, and now, after unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car, she walked into the concession stand without glancing over her shoulder to see that I was still in the passenger seat. And it wasn't like I wanted her to wait for me, to tell me where I was supposed to go or who I was supposed to talk to, but I felt totally out of my depth here, and I hadn't even left the car yet.

It was reminding me of that feeling I had in the hospital, right after the tornado and I lost Kingston in the thongs of people struggling for help, with no idea where my mom was, and blood sticky against my forehead. Just wandering around the hallways, not sure what to do, scared because there was no one to tell me.

This wasn't where I belonged, not where I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be in my trailer back home, sleeping in late because school and soaking up the summer days before my senior year with Indie then spending my summer nights flirting with Kingston from across the gravel pathways between our trailers.

I was supposed to be proud of my mom because she had a job, went to meetings every week, got better. We were supposed to be together, baking boxed brownies late at night and watching movies she rented from the grocery store after her shift. She was supposed to be there when I graduated next spring, awake and totally there, being the embarrassing mom I hoped she would be but in a different way. Not the way she had been before.

I really wasn't supposed to be here, with the Solidays, with people who had never wanted me before and clearly didn't want me now. I wasn't supposed to be in this passenger seat, heart clenching at the thought of working with her and her friends, because this was all so wrong.

And someone chose this. This wasn't just some thing that happened, but a decision someone made. A decision to end her life, to take it from her like it was a right they had, to close her windpipe with their bare hands until her breath literally stopped underneath the weight.

I blinked, shaking my head as I tried to calm my breathing, the hammering I felt in my chest and in my ears, like a vibration that extended out and down my arms, into my fingertips. There was nothing but a windshield between me and anyone who might pass the car in or out of the concession stand. There must have been thoughts about me here already, preceding me like the sign out front at the entrance, but I wouldn't lean into them by letting myself be vulnerable around them. Exposed and unguarded.