Beach Day

35: Destiny By Proxy

"Why are we here?" Tiff doesn't frown at what's in front of her— chain link fence, endless, wrapped in vines and moss— but she kind of wants to. "Couldn't we talk at the motel?"

Esther unbuckles herself and rests her hands on the wheel, uncomfortable, visibly trying to pick the right words. "It's important. I want you to see where all of it started."

"So we're at the old high school?"

Nodding, she parks in a spot at the edge of the lot, just outside the chain link fence surrounding the property. Beyond it, there are the walls of the high school Tiff was supposed to go to. It closed down before she got the chance, while Matt and Adrianna were still attending. It was the end of the tradition. How funny it is, that Tiff was the first to break it. How interesting, that this is the place where so many things began.

Her parents moved their children to Orlando shortly after that so Tiff could go to high school there and they didn't have to turn to other means of education. They never let her forget that she uprooted their lives. (As if she could.)

Aunt Esther leans forward against the chain link fence. "I wish we could get in there. It would be more fitting to go back in there, to the parking spot where it began, and complete the circle."

"The narrative is circular," Tiff muses, still near the car. "We shouldn't be so afraid of trespassing. It's like jaywalking. It barely counts as a crime."

"Strong words for someone who tried to shoot a fed."

"I know what crimes are! I'll climb that fence! Just say the word, I'll climb the fence."

"No, honey. I don't want you to climb the fence. You're wobbling. We're close enough, anyway."

"I'm only wobbling because I didn't sleep. Because I was at the church. Because—" Tiff cuts herself off.

Her aunt knows what she means. "Right. And that's why we're here."

She pats the hood of the car and gestures for Tiff to take a seat. Esther pushes herself onto the metal and takes out the breakfast sandwich from their long drive to that convenience store near Bithlo and back again. They didn't really talk in the car. Tiff tried her hardest to fall asleep in the passenger's seat, but couldn't. There was too much going on there, too much to think about. Anger and anxiety both feel the same and both have a nasty habit of keeping her awake.

Tiff doesn't sit. She leans against the side of the car, knowing that she's going to need to be able to move around. Just as her aunt needs something to do with her hands, Tiff knows she's going to need to be able to wander. It's like a phone call.

"What do you know about what happened here?" her aunt asks, not looking at her.

"I only know what I've been told. I have strings; I don't have pins. The sword, the one you keep in your closet or in the trunk, is linked to it."

"Correct."

"Almiel, that friend of yours, the angel— His appearance around you reminds me a little of— of something similar. Guardian angels and things."

"I didn't get one. A guardian angel, I mean."

Tiff looks over at her aunt. She isn't sure how old the woman is— somewhere around forty, she thinks, like Mr. Mathew, but she isn't sure. There's something about her, something tough— like she's remembering being barely seventeen, like she's back in that parking lot.

"I rejected my destiny from the first. I wasn't even sure what it was. I just knew I didn't want it.

"I suppose that's par for the course. The hero must refuse the call just as much as she must cross the threshold."