Refurbished

The screen door slammed behind Aliyah as she ran out to her old ‘02 Chevy Blazer. She tossed her air mattress and backpack into the back seat’s open window and got in. She grabbed the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip and let out a frustrated huff of air.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she mumbled to herself.

Before she backed out of the driveway, she saw her mother press her hand to the living room window and wiped her cheek. Maybe someone else would have been moved by this sad gesture, but Aliyah just wanted to get the h*ll away. She was not about to be emotionally manipulated. Her dad soon showed up behind her mom, putting a tanned hand on her shoulder to comfort his wife. Aliyah watched for a moment with anger still furrowed between her brows. Even when her dad met her gaze and gave a slight nod--perhaps a silent way of letting her know she should go on--she could feel the adrenaline pumping. She backed her car out of the drive.

The first couple of hours Aliyah thought only about what her parents had told her. She was sick of them underestimating her. Ever since she decided to renovate homes for a living rather than become a nurse or a social worker like her parents encouraged her to do, all she’d heard from them was how she wouldn’t see much profit from the way she was working, and if she wasn’t going to make much money on her own she’d need to find a wealthy husband. Okay, it was mostly her mother, but her dad didn’t usually stop his wife or say anything encouraging to Aliyah one-on-one. For three years they ragged on her for this and she was sick of it.

She ignored their calls as she filled up with gas, as she hit the road. Maybe living twenty-two hours away for a few months would get her parents off her back. They didn’t seem to understand that she could take care of herself and that she was happiest living her life as she chose. Her sister, Freida, may have fallen into their scheme, but Aliyah wanted to show them all that she didn’t need a man or a “safe” career to be successful.

They called again when she merged onto I-70, but she let it go to voicemail. Maybe she’d listen to the messages at the next stop. Maybe she’d listen to them in a couple of days. But she was feeling too hot-blooded to listen to any more lectures right then.

As she got farther from Santa Fe, Aliyah started to relax a bit. The drive through Kansas was long and flat: just fields of various crops and miles and miles spotted with cows. Aliyah grew tired, knowing she wouldn’t make it much farther. She was almost relieved when her phone started ringing. This time it was her sister. She suddenly felt a little nervous to answer, but she slid the green button over anyways.

“Hey,” she said cautiously.

“Girl, what is going on? Why’d you have to run off like that? You could have at least waited until I got done with work before you sped off hundreds of miles away to Michigan!”

Oh boy, this was going to be an interesting call. At least she wasn’t using her scary big-sister voice.

“Frieda, I’m sorry I left without saying anything to you but I really just had to go. I couldn’t wait.”

There was a bit of a pause before Frieda responded.

“‘Li, I know they’re tough on you, but it comes from a place of love. You know they struggled to get to where they are. They just want what’s best for you.”

Aliyah spotted a fuel station ahead and pulled in. Under the glow of a giant green dinosaur, she finally let go of some tension. She cried for a few minutes as her sister waited patiently on the other end of the line.

Aliyah wiped her nose with a stray McDonald’s napkin from the passenger seat and took a deep breath.

“Listen, I know they love me, but you don’t understand what it’s like to constantly be told you can’t do something. You’re doing everything they wanted us to do: you’re a nurse practitioner, you’ve got a well-off husband, you’ve got three kids, you attend church regularly. But that’s not…me.”

“I’m not saying you have to do what they’re telling you to do. I just want you to understand where they’re coming from,” Freida replied semi-defensively.

Aliyah caught her strained tone and instantly felt angry again.

“You know what? I get it. But you don’t. You’re perfect. I’m not. I refuse to be. I just want to be left alone. I just want to spend my time in cold-a*s Michigan with the hillbillies and have grand old time. I’m twenty-seven years old and I think I can take care of myself. I understand money, but I’m not looking for a job that’s just gonna make me rich. I do what I do because it makes me feel good. Can you say the same about what you’re doing? Yeah, you help people, but do you even actually care about them?” Aliyah didn’t wait for a response. “Plus, it’s not like I’m going to live in Michigan forever. It’s just for a few months while I fix this place up. It’s not like I’m totally abandoning you. I just need some space. I need to test the waters or some sh*t.” She hung up the phone and flung her seat back to recline.

She closed her aching eyes and turned her phone on silent so she couldn’t be disturbed by any other calls. It was shortly after 10:30, and she’d been driving constantly for the last 10 hours, so her body was ready for a rest.

She fell asleep for a short time. It was light and dreamless, but her body welcomed the stillness.

Sometime while it was still dark, she was awakened by a sharp tapping on the window.