“You want me to come in with you?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I drew to a halt next to a large metal gate. She looked over at me as though I was crazy.
“Of course, I do,” she replied. “You’re married to me, aren’t you? If we’re doing this for the next year, you’re going to need to be here a lot. You might as well meet her.”
“Right,” I muttered. This was more than I had signed up for. A man emerged from a small booth next to the gate and came over to the car, and she held out the laminated card she’d been clutching so hard.
“Here’s my pass.” She pushed it toward him. He took it and peered down at it for a moment and then back up at her, eyes screwed up and squinting. But then, seemingly satisfied, he shrugged and headed back inside his booth. Pressing a button, he opened the gate for us, and I began to roll the car up the driveway and toward the enormous, imposing building at the end of the road.
“Are you all right?” I asked, noticing that she was tensing up as we drew close. She didn’t reply for a moment, clearly too lost in her own thoughts.
“Amaya?”
“Mmm?” She turned to me and then managed to nod.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, even though I could tell she was talking shit. Her shoulders were drawn up to her ears, and her jaw was clenched tight.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right,” I offered, feeling a little useless, and when she turned to me, her eyes wide, I wished I could have meant what I was saying.
“Come on, let’s go.” She sighed deeply as the car pulled to a stop, and the two of us climbed out and headed into the facility to see her sister.