I was nervous to finish this!!! I did an almost complete rewrite of THE END because the first one was really blah. This one is far less blah. I think all good fiction feels a little like fact, so thank you for coming along with me and imagining a world that is likely far away from us (unless you’re a cool criminal-adjacent who is constantly on the run). Otherwise, I tried to make it feel as real as it can feel 4 us normies, which has been a labor of love. The only reason I know this is good is because I have had to read it a zillion times and STILL find it interesting, which I do (and I get bored a lot). It’s weird and cool to think I have a little audience, but you’re the best little audience there is. Please continue to share with people and text me and message me and comment what you think – I love to hear more from you. Part 3, the end of an era, let’s fucking do it.

PART THREE

When Ivy and Otis got home, they decided they would return to Old Lady’s house. They wanted to see how she made other treats with the blueberries they loved so. Almost every day for two summers, Ivy and Otis spent afternoons there. Otis’ clumsy fingers scraped excess off of cups of sugar while Ivy parroted Old Lady’s instructions to him. Ivy practiced her script writing labels for jars. She was proud of the way the ‘b’ for blueberry looked. Quickly, they learned to make pies, jams, and other delicacies. Otis was impatient in every other part of his life, yet he would sit cross-legged in front of the oven to watch pie dough bake. Ivy and Otis were positively convinced that what they witnessed in the kitchen was magic. Ivy laughed aloud just thinking about how many blueberries they must’ve eaten in those years. How they never got tired of the taste, she wasn’t sure.

Ivy recalled Old Lady saying, “There are lotsa ways to taste their sweetness but a million ways to make em’ tart. You gotta know how to get what you want outta them.” At the time, Ivy tried numbering each way they learned. 

Old Lady never asked them about their parents. She seemed to sense that it wasn’t relevant to their relationship, which was already filled with quiet joy and understanding. Ivy hadn’t realized how much they cherished Old Lady’s guidance. The feeling of being watched over wasn’t something she knew she needed until she had it. Ivy and Otis were able to keep their secret until it was time to go. Goodbye always came too soon, but Ivy didn’t know if there would ever be enough time in Sunflower. The day before they left, Otis and Ivy tried to make their own blueberry jam at home. They gathered their ingredients, saw the sugar boil, and added fresh berries from the patch. Ivy made sure to mix in the grate of ginger and a pinch of salt. She let Otis write the label in his clumsy print. Attached to the glass mason jar, they’d left a note:

Thank you, Old Lady. We liked blueberries before but you make them taste extra good and now we LOVE them. You taught us a lot about cooking. You make our summers so happy. We want to spend more time with you but we have to leave for Illinois. 😦 Here is our own jar of jam we made for you. It doesn’t taste as good as yours but we will keep practicing. We will miss you a lot.

Love, Ivy and Otis ❤ ❤ ❤

Ivy cried the entire car ride to Illinois. Her happy secret began to rot inside her, turning to poison. 

She pulled herself from that memory. She had lost track of time and now the sun hung low above the horizon, the sky was beginning to bruise purple and orange. Ivy’s body ached, she noticed that her stomach had started to rumble, it had been so many hours since she last ate. Her eyes flicked to a billboard that read, “The Arch Diner at next exit – 24 HRS – Great Food, Good Company.” Stops were supposed to be kept at a minimum, one of the first things her employer taught her so long ago, meaning that Ivy spent little time in public settings. She generally avoided anything that could lead someone to pick her face out of a crowd, or more consequentially, a lineup. The Arch would have to do for now because she had to eat, she rationalized. It was step one on the hierarchy of needs.

She made her way to the next exit towards The Arch. She found it quickly off the highway; the big, neon sign that sat above the establishment was hard to miss. The parking lot was moderately filled with cars ranging from pick up trucks to family sedans. A mixed crowd, she noted to herself, because she couldn’t help but analyze the clientele before heading in. Jumping out of the car, she landed wobbly on the ground. Her legs felt like jelly from sitting for so long. Her black boots crunched against the gravel as she walked towards the door, which gave a friendly chime when she pulled it open. The diner looked like it hadn’t been changed since the ’80s, one of the walls was made entirely of mirrored glass. A disco ball hung from above the bar, and the bar stools themselves were a worn, powdery blue. There were glass dessert cases everywhere, with huge, gaudy three-layered cakes that she imagined had been sitting there for quite some time. Still, her stomach growled. No one greeted her, waitresses were buzzing around with coffee and creamer in their hands, tending to the other customers.

A fair amount was going on and that comforted Ivy, making her feel like it would be easy to be invisible. She took her own seat, snagging an empty booth in one of the back corners. She sat on the peeling lavender cushioned bench and picked up the ten-page laminated menu. Flipping through, she was drawn to the breakfast section even though it was evening by now. She wanted over-easy eggs and crispy bacon and pancakes. Her mouth watered as she closed the menu. At that moment, a young waitress appeared at her table. Her nametag read, “June,” and she couldn’t have been older than twenty, with bleach blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail, thick black eyeliner, and a nose ring too big for her petite nose. 

“Hi, I’m June! I’ll be your server. Thank you for comin’ to the Arch Diner today, what can I get for you?” she chirped, but Ivy heard the tiredness laced in her voice. June had probably been working since before sunrise.

Ivy told June her order, asking for the bacon to be extra crispy, and June nodded dutifully.

“And on the pancakes, miss, we have banana nut, blueberry, or plain?”

Ivy smiled tightly because she almost saw Otis’ face and then Old Lady’s. The feeling threatened to pull her under, suddenly. June offered Ivy a well-meaning nod, but confusion set behind her eyes, “Miss?”

“Blueberry would be good,” Ivy snapped the menu closed and handed it to the waitress. 

It would probably taste like shit compared to what she remembered from her childhood, but Ivy could settle for the fake stuff.

Ivy took to watching the disco ball spin above the bar while she waited for her food. The spinning took her into a quiet trance, relieving her after the day she had had. She liked watching where the light reflected and moved across the room as the disco ball revolved.

She was barely present, which was why Ivy was caught off guard when her employer stepped into her view, instantly sending her entire body and mind into frenzied panic.

He gave a low whistle. “You look tired, Ivy. Do you mind…?” he gestured to the seat opposite her in the booth but sat down before she could say anything, stretching one arm across the seat while he tapped his finger gently on the table with his other hand. The tapping might have been a tick he had, but Ivy hadn’t been around him enough to conclude what it meant. Lazing in the corner of the booth, he was threatening and calm at once, which unsettled her. She liked even less that she didn’t see him coming. Making critical observations was her whole job these past few years and because she let herself relax, she lost the opportunity to think a few seconds ahead of him. She would regret losing those seconds, later on. Sitting erect, Ivy watched him through wary eyes, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Her employer was traditionally handsome in a way that intrigued Ivy when they first met. Before, when she was more lost and angry than she had the language for and too young to realize. Now, his features seemed cold and menacing. Her employer knew this, she bet, and leveraged it often. He had a face to cut yourself on. 

“It’s impolite to ignore my calls,” he started. It wasn’t a question, but Ivy heard him demanding an explanation. She said nothing, and tried to make her face stony and impassive. She prayed to God it was working. Ivy didn’t have to wonder how long they could’ve sat like that because June cut into the silence. She returned to the table with a tray of steaming food and oogled Ivy’s employer as she set the plate in front of Ivy gently.

 A slow blush crept up June’s neck. “And for you, handsome?” she asked, slightly pitching up her voice to sound more feminine. 

 “Nothing, thank you. We’re sharing,” he replied smoothly and winked, sending June away. 

 He turned his attention back to Ivy. 

“Maybe I will rephrase. It’s dangerous to ignore my phone calls. You’re bright Ivy, so you know that. Do you want your job to be more dangerous? I’m sure we could find room for that somewhere.”

She pinched herself beneath the table and found her voice.

“It was an accident, I couldn’t get to it in time to answer. I thought it wouldn’t be smart to call you back.” The lie came out easily, and she was surprised her voice didn’t shake. He leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table, as if he was speaking to her in confidence.

 “I don’t really believe you. And God,” he gave a slight, dissapointed shake of his head, “I want to. You’re one of my favorites because you ask the least questions. The things you’ve done for me, Ivy ⁠— well, I feel like we’re bonded for life.”

Ivy’s stomach rolled. She looked down at the food getting cold, the flying saucer sized blueberry pancakes sitting there, turning stale.

 “Go ahead, eat,” he waved his hand towards her plate.

 “I’m okay, I just —”

 “Eat,” he commanded, and Ivy picked up a fork and stabbed it into an over-easy egg, making the yolk ooze onto the plate. She had lost her appetite as soon as she saw him but she lifted the fork to her mouth.  

 “Now, you know people don’t exactly quit in this line of work. And I’d be…” he paused, eyes floating towards the ceiling and one hand rubbing against his clean shaven jaw, searching for the right word. 

“I’d be upset to know that’s what you wanted to do, especially since we’ve helped each other so much over the years. Is that what you want to do, Ivy?”

Before she could reply, he held up a finger,” Ah-ah, wait. I have some information for you. Decisions are worth nothing when they’re uninformed — You never told me you had a brother!” He teased, like the news was good gossip.

Ivy’s felt murderous and cold all the way from her head to her toes. She stilled, every hair on her body standing straight up. 

“You’re good at keeping secrets, which is generally a plus, except when they’re from me. Let’s see… Otis said he was just about to graduate college, a double major in engineering and classical studies, whatever that is. He’s got a lovely little girlfriend. He’s clever, maybe he gets that from you. Funny, too, but it seems a sense of humor doesn’t run in the family. Maybe just a little too trusting of strangers, though,” he leveled his gaze on her, and she could hear him thinking, “Checkmate.”

“How did you speak to him? Where is he?” she ventured carefully, trying not to show how much she wanted to stab the fork through his esophagus and run. She also tried to conceal how pleased she was to hear about Otis’ life, her mind feasted on those little details, all the while she still couldn’t envision his face all grown up. That her employer could’ve had that chance before she did, she figured she could dig the fork a little deeper.

Her employer gave her a wry smirk. Ivy was being baited, and she knew because she had done it so many times before. The veiled threats tried to keep her in the dark, not knowing she was comfortable there. But Otis was another subject entirely. Her heart ached for her brother, who she would always imagine as an annoying, smiling, googly-eyed kid. The same kid who led their bush explorations and would cry first whenever they got in trouble, letting Ivy know it was okay to unravel. She left him at seventeen and had never stopped leaving. Ivy stupidly blamed her parents for being sick with travel when all along, she had inherited the illness, too. Otis was the only one who hadn’t. How rare to find someone who could teach you things across time and space. Ivy was learning from her little brother, even in his absence.

“Now, why would I lay all my cards out on the table for you, when you’ve been less than honest with me about your loose ends? He’s safe at school. But you do know how terribly good we are at disturbing safety.”

Her employer rolled his eyes to indicate his boredom, “I’m sorry, this is blackmail one-oh-one; I’m sure you’ve done this dozens of times, so let’s skip this part to the part where I tell you what you’re going to do next. Like old times.”

He produced a glossy postcard seemingly out of nowhere and slid it across the table towards Ivy. It read, “Greetings from Massachusetts” in block print and was decorated with the state’s most famous attractions. Mostly things she didn’t recognize. Throughout all her traveling, she hadn’t ever been to Massachusetts. 

 She flipped it over and saw an address written in black permanent marker.

 “What’s this?”

“Where you’re going next. You’re going to meet me here,” he tapped his finger against the address, “by dusk tomorrow. I’ll be a chaperone for your next assignment since it seems you want someone to watch over you. I’ve left something in your car that will be helpful for our adventure. I trust you to follow my instructions,” he hesitated and then shrugged carelessly, “For all that trust is worth.”

Her employer stood up and took a wallet out of his back pocket, fishing out a hundred-dollar bill, five times more than what the meal cost. He tossed the bill onto the center of the table and quipped with a slight tilt of his head, “I liked June.” Her employer nodded once at Ivy, a silent goodbye, and turned to leave her there.

She held her breath until she heard the door chime as he pushed through and left. She hated her employer, she wasn’t sure she knew that until now. And she hated being in the business of secrets; it made her numb. All Ivy could think sitting alone in this shitty diner, was exactly how alone she had been and for how long. That morning she had set a house on fire. Tomorrow, Ivy didn’t know what she would be doing — or who she would have to be to do it. Unfamiliar wetness traced down her cheek, and she flicked it away with her finger.

Ivy left The Arch and headed towards the parking lot to her car. Opening the door, she settled into the driver’s seat, which was practically molded to her shape by now. Her head fell against the steering wheel, and she listened to the grasshoppers chirp from outside the car. She was bone tired. Every kind of tired she experienced before this moment was a diluted shade of this feeling. Ivy was homesick without anywhere to miss. Old Lady, who was probably dead by now, came to mind. The only friend Ivy and Otis ever made together. It brought Ivy the slightest warmth to know she and Otis had an equal piece of her.

The thought of him being caught up in any of this wracked her with guilt. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something on the passenger seat. She looked to her right and saw a medium-sized, square-shaped black box; it was clearly whatever gift her employer was talking about. 

She grabbed the box and brought it to her lap, removing the lid. Neatly placed inside was a black semi-automatic handgun with the magazine next to it. Ivy’s heart stopped. As she brought the box closer for inspection, a chill ran down her spine. The moonlight glinted off of the gunmetal. She could kill her employer. Ivy carefully removed a manila envelope from underneath the gun. Inside, was a forged Massachusetts state ID made for her and an envelope full of money.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Ivy closed the envelope gently.

She started to wail alone in the car, slamming her hands against the steering wheel as she screamed with everything she had inside her. She held it as long as she could and then yelled a little bit more. Ivy didn’t give a fuck that a mom standing in the parking lot was pulling her two staring kids into their car. She would probably scream too if she found this on her passenger seat.

The gun was a promise of something darker than she could stomach. Usually, you can only see turning points in your life long after you’ve passed them. But with a gun on her lap, Ivy saw a new path laid out before her. It wouldn’t be like the last time. If she took it, she was guaranteed to lose herself completely.

She removed the postcard from her pocket and turned it over in her hand. Massachusetts. She thought of The Boston Red Sox and pilgrims and clam chowder and the witches of Salem. There was something else that nagged her, though. Her employer said Otis was in his last year at college. Ivy never planned on going to school, so she knew very little about higher education. Ivy knew Harvard was somewhere in Massachusetts. Then, there was a Boston University, or maybe it was Boston College she had heard of? She ran her fingers across the word and then what she was trying to remember hit her: it was one of the states with the most universities and colleges in the US. Otis once told her that at the dinner table before she left for good. He had big dreams of going to Tufts, he had said, kicking his feet under the table, a habit he never shook from when he was little.

“It’s in Medford. Did you know Medford had one of the biggest successful bank robberies and jewel heists in history?” he asked Ivy. “Well,” he reconsidered, forking mashed potatoes into his mouth, “maybe successful isn’t the right word, they did get caught later on.” Ivy hadn’t known any of that but she wasn’t interested in his fact; her mind was already on the road. She had been planning on breaking the news she would be leaving soon.

Ivy believed Otis was capable of getting in wherever he wanted. What were the chances that he was at Tufts now, living his life happily with his girlfriend? She couldn’t be sure. One thing she did know, they were both trapped by her employer now.

She looked down at the gun in her lap and seeing her employers face in her mind, closed the box and placed it back on the passenger seat. Ivy took the postcard, balancing it behind her stick shift so when she looked down she could see, “WELCOME TO MASSACHUSETTS.” Ivy would sacrifice everything she was to save Otis and that feeling alone was enough to propel her across the country and back one hundred times.

She sensed the connection to her brother, almost physically, for the first time in many years. Ivy realized, it was the only permanent place she’d known, where she could return to every version of themselves they’d been. Where little, innocent Ivy and tiny, curious Otis still played together. The siblings each grew different over the years and yet, more the same. This was the place she was homesick for, all this time.

What she learned in this car, maybe what she had been learning all her life, was that all roads only lead her to herself. Ivy looked back so often because she forgot she carried the past with her. No piece of Ivy could be lost to fire. The relief that understanding brought was immeasurable.

She stuck her key into the ignition, and the car hummed, turning alive. Ivy cast a long look at the box that concealed the gun, her mind scaffolding together a loose plan. Tonight, for the first time ever, Ivy left looking forward.

THE END