Page 39 of Remain
Thank you. For everything.
The reply doesn’t come right away.
I head back toward the guest room, suitcase still waiting, half-open like it’s holding space for a decision I haven’t made yet. My flight leaves at six. In less than two hours, I’m supposed to be moving forward again, back to a life that never stopped without me.
My phone vibrates.
I’m really glad you stayed with family this time.
I stand near the edge of the bed, the house settling around me, the quiet thick with unsaid things. Down the hall, afloorboard creaks as someone else wakes. For the first time in years, I’m not alone in this.
My phone buzzes. It’s Lena again.
Sav… Just a reminder that decisions are not tattoos. Whatever you choose right now can still change later. I love you. xx
“Thought I heard movement,” a voice whispers at the threshold of the door. Aunt Carol emerges.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologize.
“Nonsense,” Aunt Carol says immediately, her arms tightening around me for a moment longer before she lets go, hands still resting on my shoulders like she needs the contact to hold. “How are feeling? Are you ready? Most importantly, have you had coffee?”
She steps back just enough to look at me properly, her eyes catching on the open suitcase on the bed, the quiet incompleteness of it, the coat over my arm, the way I’m already braced to go. There’s something knowing in her expression.
“I’d love a cup of coffee.” It’s a request for more than just caffeine.
Aunt Carol heads for the kitchen to put on a pot, and I zip my suitcase shut, sealing up more than just clothes. I pause at the doorway, whisperingsee you laterto the guest room, as if it might remember me when I’m gone.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils as I pat my coat pockets out of habit, then check the small table by the door, the dresser, the nightstand again, despite knowing better. Apparently, my ability to lose my keys travels well, even outside New York City.
“Have you seen my rental car keys?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual as I glance toward Aunt Carol in the kitchen.
She looks up from the counter, coffee mug in hand, and something flickers across her face. “Your keys?”
“Yeah,” I say, turning back toward the guest room, scanning surfaces that suddenly feel unfamiliar. “I must’ve set them down somewhere. You know, I always do this…”
She sets the mug down slowly. “Savannah…”
I stop.
“You can’t find them because you don’t have them,” she says gently. “Your uncle returned the car yesterday.”
I turn back to her, confusion giving way to understanding, then something softer and sweeter settling in its place. “You… already took care of it.”
She nods once. “I told you. You’re not doing this alone.”
“I was going to drive myself,” I say quickly, the words tumbling out of habit. “It’s early. You don’t need to…”
She shakes her head before I can finish. “Absolutely not.”
“Aunt Carol…”
“I am driving you,” she punctuates the air, already moving past me to reach for her my mom’s mug, now her mug, the conversation clearly settled in her mind. “I want this time. I’m not letting you disappear out the door like a ghost.”
I hesitate. “Okay, but how did you return it? Don’t I need to sign for it?”
“It’s handled,” she breezes, pouring herself coffee. “Your uncle knows a guy who knows a guy. Apparently it’s all very official and no big deal says hum. Funny enough, it’s that same neighbor from the story he always shares every Christmas Eve.”
I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my mouth. “Of course it is.”