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My phone alarm went off, letting me know it was time to go.
“So this is it?” Birdie asked as I quieted my phone.
I only nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Chester opened his arms in the seat next to me. “Come here, kid. I need a hug.”
I hugged him, breathing in the smell of coffee and diner food on his clothes. “I’m going to miss this place.”
“It’ll miss you too,” he said. “And so will I.”
I smiled tearfully, wishing I could just bring them all with me. But since I couldn’t, I got out of the booth and hugged Birdie tight. She whispered in my ear, “I’m only a phone call away.”
I nodded. “You better answer, even though I’ll be on Eastern time.”
She smiled, using her thumbs to wipe away my tears. “I’d answer if you were on the moon’s time zone.”
Henrietta hugged me next and said, “You’re going to kill it out there. I know it.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, hugging her close. “And when I get back, I expect you to have a new house and some man candy.”
Hen laughed. “I can promise one of those things, but I won’t say which.”
I smirked. “I love a good surprise.”
Then Birdie and Hen put their arms around each other, watching as I walked away from the table. Away from my family. Away from the people I knew would be there for me no matter what.
The tears came as I drove out of Emerson, taking in everything one last time. I’d miss it all, but I had to be excited for this new adventure, for the opportunity to reach so many more people through my words. They were powerful, and so were my choices.
Life was always a series of forks in the road. Whether you turned left or right, you had to accept it because there was no going back. There was no undoing what had been done. All you could do is make peace with your past and choose better in the future.
Just like my dad was choosing better with his life out of rehab. He’d gotten out a couple weeks ago and let me know he had an apartment and a job.
And I had a gift for him, something to help him make the right turn, if that’s what he chose to do. I didn’t need my car anymore, the one we’d used to fool Jonas’s parents, and my dad would be eligible for a license soon. I already had a mechanic scheduled to come and install a breathalyzer on the car that day.
An hour after leaving Emerson, I reached a set of shabby apartments near the airport and stopped in the parking lot. I looked up and saw my dad standing near the apartment entrance, a thick jacket wrapped around him. He looked older than the man I knew growing up. Softer.
I got out and said, “Hey.” I still couldn’t call him Dad out loud. I held out the keys. “She’s all yours.”
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, looking between the car and me. “I can keep walking to the bus stop.”
“It’s a mile from here. It takes you two hours to get to work,” I said, pushing the keys into his hand.
He shook his head, looking between me and the newer vehicle. “I don’t deserve it.”
“No,” I agreed. “You don’t.”
He finally met my eyes, his a murky brown reflection of my own. “Thank you.”
He hugged me. It was awkward but healing at the same time. He wasn’t ever the dad I wanted and certainly never the dad I needed. But he was the dad I had. I wasn’t raised by the Moores. My story didn’t have a cute garden in the backyard or summers spent playing on the beach.
But this story was mine, and I deserved my own kind of happy ending. That involved knowing that the man who contributed to my DNA had the best chance possible at turning his life around and making however much was left of it count.
“Have fun in Atlanta,” he said.
I nodded. “I hope you make this count.”
“I will,” he promised.