This Stop, I'm Getting Off Alone

A whole bowl of porridge came down, most of it splashing across the hospital bed.

Will's eyes brimmed with panic.

"Bertha, are you all right?"

Bertha's eyes welled up as she peeled off the soiled jacket and dabbed at her hands with a tissue.

"I'm fine... it's me, it's my fault, I never should have come with you two..."

"As long as I leave, you two won't fight anymore."

She bent toward me.

And I saw it clearly then. The hickey on her neck.

For one instant our eyes met, and I understood exactly what was in hers.

A fire flared up inside my fever-clouded head.

I swung my hand and slapped her, hard.

"June!!"

The next second.

Will's eyes nearly split with rage, and his hand came back across my face.

I covered my cheek. I couldn't hear anything anymore.

Will chased after Bertha, out the door.

At the threshold he turned back.

"Have you lost your mind? She's your best friend."

I laughed under my breath. The palm pressed against half my face came away a little wet.

On my phone, a notification slid up: the train left in three hours.

I knew. It really was time to go.

Will chased Bertha all the way back to the hotel and watched her cry herself to sleep.

Unsettled, he took out his phone, meaning to message June.

He stared at the chat window.

He saw the two voice messages June had sent him that morning, before they set out.

He'd only listened to one.

For no reason he could name, he opened the first.

*You all go ahead. I'm not coming.*

It hit Will then that maybe he'd blamed her for nothing.

His pulse stumbled.

He tapped the second one, still marked with its red dot—

*Will, we don't work. Let's just break up.*

His mind went blank.

Whether his hand shook, or whether it just hadn't sunk in,

he tapped the screen again.

June's familiar voice came through the speaker.

Not coaxing, not the soft hello he was used to.

*Will, we don't work. Let's just break up.*