Page 118 of The Story of You

But buried within my twisted thoughts was the idea it had started it all. It didn’t matter. My gut ached and I missed Aleksander all over again.

He looked good though. Well fed. He’d been getting lots of sun. I had a moment’s doubt—maybe this place was good for him, maybe he should stay. But no. I needed him more.Wedid. We wouldn’t make it without him.

And there was his wish for the three of us to be together no matter what. Did he still feel that way? Guess I’d find out

Darius looked up from who he’d been talking to. Like he’d been waiting for me. The windows were open.

“Get in the car, Darius.Now.”

I was riled. In my head, Father was already chasing us and I was a heartbeat away from turning around. We needed to keep moving.

I stared out the window unable to look at him. I didn’t know what he’d see, but I knew what I felt, and it was like shit. If Darius didn’t come with me, I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do. Uncle Pax? That wasn’t an option at the time. He thought I was crazy and for all I knew, he’d been helping Aleksander.

And just the thought of looking at him … no.

I was never so grateful when I heard the scrape of the heavy passenger-side door open and shut. “Hey Sye, long time.” He turned to Oliver. “Hey, kid. You remember me?”

I watched in the rear-view mirror as Oliver checked in with me.Is this guy okay?He rubbed his eyes and pointed and flexed his bare feet like he was practicing his ballet stretches. His eyes flicked back and forth, between me and Darius. “Baba?” He looked ready to cry.Again.

I couldn’t do any more crying. I prayed. Grabbing his foot, I gave it a little squeeze. “You hungry, my eaglet?”

Oliver shook his head, but he needed to eat. It had been hours.

“Pass me that bag, Darius,” I said. He passed the bag, and I pulled out a bottle. Oliver was past the stage of bottle drinking, but I still had them around the house, and they were easier for car rides. “Drink this.”

“Noooo, Baba,” Oliver whined.

What he really needed was sleep. I thought he’d drift off instantly when I began driving, but he hadn’t. I think he sensed my fear. I needed to calm down.

“Oliver.” My tone was deep and commanding, emphasizing the middle of his name. I pushed the bottle toward him with one hand while the other remained on the steering wheel, my eyes faced front. “Drink your milk. I’ll get you something more filling soon.”

Oliver took the bottle and drank it.

* * *

Silas – One Week Later - 1988

“What were you thinking, Sye? Of course, he can track us if you usehiscredit card. This is why you should have watched spy movies with me.”

“How was I supposed to know we’d be running from our father someday?”

Oliver wouldn’t let me go. He was scared. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t remember Darius and my frazzled state wasn’t helping. He picked up on my emotions. He could feel that I was on the verge of a panic attack.

Aleksander had called the hotel. The man behind the desk—whom I’d greased with a fifty, which is nearly one hundred fifty dollars today—was loyal to us, letting us know we had a phone call from an Aleksander who wanted to speak with me, but he’d said we were out. I wanted to call. Hear his voice. Did he miss me as much as I missed him?

“Besides, what are we supposed to do? I have about three grand. That won’t get us far.”

“I have two,” he said. “But it’s back at The Home—if you had just let me run upstairs instead of being your dictatorial self.”

Darius was freaking out too. It had been a while since he’d had to deal with Father. We were both losing it for different reasons, but the same source of terror.

“M-Maybe we should go back,” I said. “To Aleksan—to F-Father.”

“No fucking way, Silas. Not on your fucking life. If we’re going back anywhere it’s to get my money. Simon knows where it is. He’ll take care of it for me.”

“Simon?”

“My best friend.”