“I’m sure.”
Ivy nodded, biting her lip. “Even if I got it dug out,” she said, “I can’t drive your car.” She wiped a hand over her mouth. “I tried, once.”
The lady’s head tipped to the side so she could look at Ivy. “You did?”
“It’s one of those foreign-type cars. With the stick. I don’t know how to work it.”
“When was this?”
“You were passed out.”
The lady blew air out her nose.
“I was trying to get the hell out of here.”
“Leaving me behind.”
“You were fine. All you had to do was walk up to the road and make a few calls. Your husband could’ve come to get you.”
The lady put a hand over her eyes. “You can’t just do that,” she said finally. “You can’t just leave people like they’re, they’re nothing.”
“Yeah, okay. So what do we do?”
“We?” Mary Ellen snorted, wincing.
“I told you. I can’t—”
“You have to walk, Ivy. You have to go up to the road and get help.”
Ivy sat down in one of the armchairs and leaned her forehead on the heel of her hand. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“What?”
“Sorry.” She got up and went upstairs, ignoring the lady’s weak protests. Her peanut butter sandwich was still sitting on the kitchen counter, but there was no way she could eat now, not with blood smeared on her pants and the thought of the hole in the lady’s leg. She stared out the window into the treetops, feeling her mind darken, a familiar sensation coming on like nightfall. Why couldn’t she ever seem to get out from under other people? It wasn’t fucking fair. All Ivy wanted to do—all she’d ever wanted to do—was mind her own business and do her own thing. But she kept getting dragged down by other people’s shit.
She slid the window open and listened to the cold air. The woods were so quiet, now that the creek had frozen over. It was like when the power went out and the fridge stopped and you realized you’d never known real silence before. There was no wind either, so the trees had stopped their creaking. Far away, in another mountain’s stone-colored sky, crows called once, twice, then stopped.
She’d made a promise to herself: no going back. Only forward.
Ivy thought about the man with the cloudy eye, and the swinging crystal throwing light around his dirty car. She felt some comfort knowing he was out there, and probably others like him. It made things seem a little less lonely.
She pulled the window shut, the early-afternoon light washing the glass clean of any reflection. She went to the kitchen and filled a tumbler with water, which she brought downstairs to Mary Ellen. The lady was asleep.
“Hey,” Ivy said, poking her shoulder. “Hey.” She was really pale; too pale, Ivy decided. She shoved the lady’s shoulder and was thinking about pouring some water in her face when her eyes finally opened. “Drink some water.”
Mary Ellen drank slowly, weakly. Ivy checked her wrappings. The pee pads on the top were okay, but the ones underneath were soaked through. The tourniquet had come loose too. “Did you untie this?” she asked. But Mary Ellen’s eyes were rolling back, and she was groaning loudly. “What’s wrong?”
“It hurts… Oh God, it… Ahhh!”
“Okay, sorry.” Ivy unwrapped some fresh pads and replaced the bloody ones as quickly as she could, retying the pajama leg as tight as possible. Then she went upstairs and got the bottle of Numbitol out of Mary Ellen’s purse. She came back and put two of the little blue-and-yellow pills in the lady’s hand. Mary Ellen dropped them weakly onto her tongue, then jerked her head up and spat them out.
“What?” Ivy said.
“Ibuprofen,” Mary Ellen said, staring at the pills in her hand. She looked up at Ivy with wide, sad eyes. “It’s a blood thinner.”
“Oh.” Ivy shrugged. “I guess that’s…bad?”
Tears were sliding down Mary Ellen’s face. She threw the pills across the room; they bounced off the sliding door and fell to the floor with a light tick-tack. She drew a long breath and made a hopeless wailing sound. Ivy sat in the armchair and leaned her head back.
“Listen to me.” The lady put her hands over her face and talked through them. “If I don’t bleed to death, I’m going to die of an infection.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Yes I am.”
“You won’t.”
“Please, Rose.”
“Ivy.”
“Go get someone. I don’t want to die.”
“Stop it,” Ivy said sharply. “Stop talking about dying. Keep your head in the game.”
“I’ll give you my phone, okay? I’ll give you my phone, and all the money I have, and my boots and my coat and everything else. Just go up to the road and call 911.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Ivy took a deep breath. “I did something bad, and they’re looking for me. The cops.”
“What? What did you do?”
Ivy shrugged. “I stole a car. And I wrecked it.”
Mary Ellen had closed her eyes. Ivy wondered if she was asleep. “Hello?”
“So you’re a car thief.”
“I guess. Not a very good one.”
“Mmm-hmm.” This turned into a little laugh. It was almost like the lady was drunk.
“You know, I think you should probably stay awake,” Ivy said.
The lady gave an exasperated sigh and opened her eyes. “Listen,” she said. “What about this? I’ll give you my car.”
“I already told you—”
“No, listen. I’ll teach you how to drive it. It’s not that hard. If you get me out of here, drive me to a hospital, and drop me off, you can keep the car. Plus, my phone and my credit card. It’s everything you need to get to Montana, right? I’ll even mail you the title to the car. Once I get…home.”
“Oh, please. You’re just going to send the cops after me.”
“No!” Mary Ellen turned her head and fixed Ivy with a significant look. “This is the
