Airport 9

I followed Katie to the parking garage, to a gray Nissan Cube. Sort of funny looking, really, and it seemed to especially pale in comparison to the old Bronco II I had remembered her driving when I first met her. Got to love parents who make sure their kids have the biggest and the best.

"Wow, nice car Katie," I tried to sound impressed. "I figured you might still be driving your Bronco around."

"The engine blew, and it was going to cost more to fix than it was worth," She said as she unlocked the back hatch so I could load my bags. "Dad figured it was time for something new anyways. I love this car."

She drove out of the parking garage, and soon we had cleared the terminal.

"Are you still living at home then? If, you know, you don't mind me asking," I was trying to tread a fine line, I hope it wasn't as obvious as it seemed.

"Yes, I do."

She didn't appear to notice. Or, she wasn't allowing it to show.

"How about some music?"

I graciously accepted her offer. As she tuned in to her local favorite I couldn't help but wonder what it was on her mind at this exact moment. She knew me well, she had come to learn a great deal about me, through nothing more than letters and lengthy phone conversations while I was deployed. She surely must sense the unhealthy interest I maintained in Dom, and her living arrangements obviously would shed quite a bit of light on the situation I had been fighting from the outside in. This, of course, was a unique situation, and therefore there was not any one answer which would satisfy my struggle. 

I stared out the window, allowing her to drive in peace. Damn it.

I should never have told her to leave me.