I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

43

Danika

“I don’t feel comfortable with you driving to Orlando,” Logan says out of the blue.

I pause the documentary we’re watching about gymnasts. My heart goes out for those girls. So much abuse, and for years it was brushed under the rug. It still baffles me how some parents turn a blind eye to the suffering of their children. I think about Molly, who doesn’t speak ninety percent of the time. I am her advocate. If someone was hurting her, there’s no way I could keep my mouth shut.

“Danika?”

“Sorry.” I drop the remote between us on the couch and smile apologetically. “I zoned out. What did you say?”

Logan, used to my wandering mind, chuckles. I swear, I’m worse than a squirrel these days. There's just so much to juggle now that he is back to work. “I said, I don’t think you should drive to Orlando. At least, not in your car. I don’t trust it.”

“Can I take your Camaro?” I haven’t driven a stick since I was fifteen but it can’t be that hard. Like riding a bike. Some things you never forget. I hope.

Logan stretches his arm behind my head and over my shoulders. He pulls me closer until I’m leaning against him. “I was thinking we get you a new SUV before your trip on Friday. The dealerships are practically giving cars away this time of year. We could probably get an interest free loan and a ton of money for your clunker.”

“I like my clunker. Thank you very much.” I’ve actually wanted to trade it in for a while now. The motor has started making a new knocking sound, but I have almost no credit and no job. I doubt anyone with half a brain would give me a loan.

“I’d like to know my girls are in a safe, reliable vehicle. What do you say?” Logan looks down at me, his brown eyes all puppy dog-like.

The idea is nice, but on the off chance we don’t work out, I won’t have anything in my name. My car might not be much, but it’s mine. “I don’t know, Logan.”

“Just think about it. You don’t want to break down on the interstate. I-4 has been under construction for the last ten years and it’s still a mess.”

I press both of my palms against the leather of my new-to-me steering wheel, which is attached to a newer, sturdier version of my old clunker. Somehow, Logan worked his magic and got double what my trade-in was worth and a payment I can even afford, which says a lot because my income is nothing.

I blare the horn, earning the middle finger from the guy who cut me off. “Fucker!” I yell, even though he can’t hear me. Nona’s ticket is open ended. We wanted to give her the option to stay through New Year’s if that’s what she wants. Whenever she does decide to fly home, she won’t be going through Orlando. This traffic is a nightmare!

Finally, after almost two hours of hell, I make it to the terminal pickup area. I cruise under the covered ramp, looking at the overhead signs for her airline. Eventually, I see Nona, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, one leg kicked out from under her dress, white leather suitcase in front of her, thumb hitched out.

A little car, two lengths up, stops. My heart races because that’s my Nona! That creepy perv needs to get away from her before I ram into the back of his car and perform a rescue mission. Nona, ignorant to this car’s intentions, rests her forearm against the man’s rolled down window.

I inch forward, parking behind this Nona snatcher and jumping out faster than Logan came the first a time we had sex. “Nona!”

“And there she is now,” Nona laughs. She holds her hands up, cradling my cheeks as she rises onto her tiptoes to kiss my forehead. “I was telling this nice young man that my pimp only allows me to work with the ladies. What do you say dear? Can we make an exception?”

I don’t bother to look at the guy. I grab her bag with one hand and link my other arm through hers. “No.”

“Too bad.” Nona blows the man a kiss and waves at him over her shoulder.

I open the passenger door and make sure Nona is strapped in before putting her bag into the trunk. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh, hush, child.” She giggles and swats at my arm. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“You seem to have enough of it for the both of us.” I flick my turn signal and merge to my right. A car whizzes past me, blowing its horn because I’m only doing ten miles over the speed limit. I don’t care if it adds forty-five minutes to the drive, I’m taking the scenic route home. I can’t take another minute on this road!

“What can I say? If I’m gonna go out it might as well be with a bang.” This woman. She has so much of my mother in her. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever the case, having Nona around makes the sting of losing Mom easier.

“So,” Nona starts, folding her hands over her knee. “Tell me about this horrifically sweet man you’ve moved in with. Last time we chatted, you hated him and that hussy, Sarah.”

Guilt twists my stomach into a knot. Before Molly nearly died, Nona and I talked multiple times a week. She’s still made the effort to call in the weeks since but I haven't felt like talking. Not just to her, but to anyone. “I’m sorry I shut you out, Nona.”

She pats my leg with a knowing smile on her face. “Don’t worry, dear. I understand. Life knocks you on your ass sometimes. You have to find your footing again before taking another shot at it.”

Tears sting my eyes. Nona has always supported my decisions, even if they were stupid, and understood them. I’m so incredibly lucky to have her in my life. “It’s no excuse.”

Nona rolls her eyes. “From the looks of the rock on your finger, I think you’ve landed on your feet again.”