The Moments

Chapter Nineteen

JORDAN WILLS

She guides me out of her room and into the driveway. My car is parked there, my mom let me come over. No sneaking around necessary. I explained the whole situation to her with as little detail as possible and she seemed to understand the importance of spending time with a person while you still can. It's as though we never fought. She was kind with me, understanding, patient. She told me that I could skip this week's therapy session, but she insisted I attend at least one meeting of the support group. I obliged, simply because I owed her some patience in return. I guess I didn't fully understand my mother's ability to be mad, but still love me. I thought that fighting with her would be a life altering occurrence, but it turns out some things don't matter as much as I think they do.

Madelyn sits down in the passenger seat. She looks tired, yet excited. I take a seat behind the wheel and I look at her expectantly. She picks up my phone and puts an address into the GPS. I don't look at where she's taking us. I think it's meant to be a surprise.

"Shouldn't you tell your dad?" I quiz, looking at her house. She glances up at it too. It's pretty plain. One story, brick, a tree with a worn swing in the front yard. I try to imagine a younger, healthier Madelyn, swinging her legs back and forth as that swing brings her up and back down. Her mom watching from the porch, her dad in the kitchen making lunch.

"I'll text him later," she replies with a slight shrug.

It's out of character for her, but I don't think we can count on our characters to be consistent anymore so I don't mention it. I just nod and back out of her driveway. As soon as we're on the road she puts on some music from her phone. I've never heard it before, but I like the vibes. I want to tell her that, but it feels like a no talking kind of moment so I just tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

It's a generally short drive. The sun is about to set and the night air is cool so I roll down the windows. As we pull into the parking lot of a tall hotel, she is smiling proudly and I think I understand what is happening.

"Come on," she beams. "I know you keep pot in the back," she says, craning her neck to look at the small metal box I keep in the backseat.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask, yet another character inconsistency. "What about your lungs?"

"I think they can handle it," she laughs, opening the car door. "Besides, 911 is on speed dial."

I know she's kidding, but I'm not sure if I like the way this night is going. I remind myself that it's really not my place to tell her not to do this. I do as instructed and grab the box, tuck it discreetly into my pocket. When I turn around, she is already at the door, motioning for me to follow.

We avoid the staff easily, which is good because neither of us are the most agile creatures. When we reach the door that opens to the roof, Madelyn pulls a bobby pin out of her back pocket and within two minutes, the door is open.

"What the hell?" I exclaim.

"I've been practicing," she says with a triumphant smile.

We step onto the roof, the breeze is stronger up here. I take off one of my shoes to hold the door open, then I follow her towards the ledge. We sit down, feet dangling, but I can tell that neither of us are considering jumping. Usually it would be the only thing I could think about, but something is different about this moment. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel open minded in a way. Like anything could be said or done and I'd just go with it.

I pull the box out of my pocket and raise an eyebrow at her. She nods so I light a joint. She takes, a short, choked drag, then hands it back laughing.