Page 10 of In Somnis

My heart stumbles. “What?”

“You’ll get in, at least have somewhere safe to sleep. There’s a mattress, nothing else, but it’s better than a car seat. Tomorrow we’ll sort out the payment and paperwork.”

“That’s…” my throat tightens, forcing me to swallow hard, “… way too kind of you.”

Which, apparently, is all it takes to almost make me cry now.

“It sounds like you could use some help.”

“You have no idea.”

“Do you have the address?”

“Yes.” I nod into the phone like an idiot, even though he can’t see me.

“Good. There are only three floors and six apartments in the building. You take the elevator to the second floor. Yours is the apartment on the left across the elevator.”

“That’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Looking forward to meeting you. Wait, what’s your name?”

“Lennon,” I whisper, smiling through the burn in my eyes. “My name’s Lennon.”

“Great. I’m Derek. See you tomorrow then, Lennon.”

When the line clicks off, I set the phone on the counter. Tears prickle hot, and for the first time in days, they’re not from grief. I’ve been braced for three thousand miles, the next bad thing, next closed door, or next reason to keep driving.

I think about my mother saying that the world is made of small acts of kindness, mostly invisible, and that the trick is to stay awake enough to notice them.

I didn’t believe it when she said it. I’m starting to.

To keep from collapsing into a sobbing puddle, I grab the rest of my burger and take another bite. Grease runs down my wrist, and I do a little wiggle in my seat.

This is actual serotonin, brought to you by cheese and the promise of four walls that aren’t my car.

Scruffy huffs from beside me, and I cut him a glance before asking, “You think he’ll do it? Leave the key? Or am I gonna end up sleeping in my car anyway?” I laugh weakly. “Would be exactly my luck.”

His eyes drag over me before his brows pull together as if he’s actually worried.

“It’s fine.” I wave a hand, brushing off both his concern and the squeeze in my chest. “I’m at rock bottom. I can’t sink deeper.”

He raps his knuckles twice against the wooden counter.

I blink at him, then let out a startled laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually have a sense of humor.”

He breathes out through his nose, but I count it as a win. Weirdly enough, after talking to two people tonight, three if you count the waitress, the emptiness inside me doesn’t feel quite as sharp, but the exhaustion does, so we finish our burgers in silence. When the waitress drops off the check, Scruffy stops me from digging in my purse with a hand on my arm, and before I can argue, he tosses a few crumpled bills onto the counter.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Of course, he stands instead of answering, so I do the same, hugging my purse like a shield.

“I have to, uh, use the restroom real quick. Wash my hands.” I clear my throat. “Thanks. It was… nice meeting you. If you’re ever in Vernonia and want to share another meal, maybe with a better burger, come by. Looks like I’ll be there for at least three months.” My wave is as wobbly as my voice, and before I can make it worse, I slip into the bathroom.

After I thoroughly wash the burger grease from my hands, I splash cold water on my face until my skin tingles, trying to pull myself together for the next and hopefully last stretch of this journey. When I exit the bathroom and come up to the diner entry, I’m surprised to find Scruffy waiting there.

“Oh.” I force a smile, feeling awkward. “You needed the bathroom too?”

He heads for the door, and I fall into step beside him. Outside, the night air is even colder and a lot darker than when I arrived, all shadows and yellow floodlights, with trucks hulking in rows. Men smoke in front of them in clusters, their rowdy laughter carrying across the asphalt.