Page 72 of Ideal Life

Should I turn back home?

But pride kicked in. She wasn’t a quitter in any aspect of her life, and she certainly wasn’t going to give up after a pathetic half-mile jog.

Talia wasn’t stupid, though, so she took it easy for a bit, passing Town & Country Village, the shopping center where her Trader Joe’s was located. The parking lot was usually packed, but of course it was empty now.

She jogged slowly until she felt solid again. Then she increased her pace and crossed El Camino onto Stanford’s campus.

Erin

Erin was the last person to leave the Ideal Life offices, right around midnight. She’d been working hard on the Gen Z social media campaign, revising the plan based on the marketing team’s feedback and putting together the list of creators they ought to target. Her eyelids drooped as she walked over to her car.

Should I call an Uber?

But no, her dorm was only seven minutes away. She could make it that far. Besides, if Erin left her car here overnight, she’d have to walk back to get it tomorrow, and that would be a pain. It made way more sense to just drive back now.

She yawned as she started her car, forgetting to turn on her headlights because it was well lit downtown. She cruised onto University Avenue, which soon crossed El Camino and into the palm tree–lined entrance to Stanford. It was peaceful out (any parties going on this Friday night would be on the other side of campus on the Row), and Erin let her mind settle into autopilot.

At Campus Drive, she made a left. Her eyelids felt like they had anchors on them. Her head nodded, and she fell asleep for a split second, before jerking awake.

“Come on, Erin.” She slapped herself lightly on the cheek. “It’s just a few minutes now.”

Up ahead was the roundabout at Galvez Street. Erin yawned as she eased into the traffic circle.

Bam!

She’d hit something—someone!

Erin screamed and slammed on the brakes.

Talia

The car didn’t have its headlights on.

It hit Talia just as she was darting across the Galvez Street roundabout.

She rolled over the hood and slammed into the asphalt on the other side.

Brakes squealed. A car door flung open.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” a woman shouted as she ran to Talia’s side.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Can you hear me? I’m so sorry, oh my god, I didn’t see you, it’s my fault, shit, please be okay—”

Talia, face down on the street, groaned. There was a sharp, throbbing pain in her hip where she’d been hit, and her skin stung, burning where she’d slid on the road.

“Oh, thank god, you’re alive. I-I’ll call the ambulance right now, I should’ve right away, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Talia pushed herself up to sitting.

“Ma’am, don’t move. You might hurt yourself more—” The driver gasped. “Talia?”

Talia blinked. “Erin? What’re you doing here?” Her brain, in shock, hadn’t pieced the situation together yet. Irrationally, she decided it was important then to try to stand up. She glanced at her legs, which seemed to be intact other than the pain in her hip. Her leggings were torn at the knees and she was scraped and bleeding, but nothing felt broken. The car hadn’t been going that fast.

She started to stand.

“Talia, please! Don’t move. I am literally dialing 911 right now.”

Erin turned away to talk to the emergency operator. “Yes, hi, there’s been a car accident. We’re on Stanford campus at Galvez just across from the track…”