Somehow dad managed to get me out of the hospital within five days. I was ready to leave after three, and it was a miracle I was able to leave as early as I did. I was supposed to have died, damn it.

Though I wasn’t back up to snuff by a long shot, I wasn’t going to get better any faster by lying on a hospital bed.

“Thanks for driving me to my place,” I sighed.

“I still don’t get why you want a place out here,” dad said. “There’s nothing for miles around. It takes you half an hour to reach the nearest city, if you count Abrahamsville.”

“You can’t count desert oases, dad,” I replied sarcastically. “Get your facts right. I’m essentially 45 minutes from civilization”

“I can understand how you can stand it, but I’d go crazy.”

“It’s familiar,” I shrugged, though he couldn’t see the gesture as he watched the road. “If you’ve lived under the stars for long enough, you reach a point where their absence is unsettling. Like a horror movie when there’s something off that you can’t name.” He ignored my vague reference.

“As long as you don’t mind the commute. It’ll be an hour and and 45 from here to the University of Chicago when schools starts.”

As long as Lana didn’t go rogue, I’d be fine. “I’ll survive,” I joked.

He pulled up to my humble abode and followed me out.

“How are you expecting to get any girls up here?” he asked, chuckling.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” I defended. “She’s a fixer-upper, but at least a full-sized house.”

“You paid 140k for her.” My lips twitched.

“She’s better than an expensive city apartment.”

“That’s the only reason why we bought this house. The price.” He walked up ahead of me to the porch. “You going to invite me in?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. The door’s open.” I followed him into the house and sat down on the couch just off to the right side of the foyer.

My house is petite, no lie, but the land included in the property is pretty substantial, about two acres. A farmhouse in disrepair, it’s a wooden establishment with a black thatch roof and sky blue paint that’s half faded on the exterior and creviced with dirt and mold. There’s a little weather vane on the roof, a relic of the past I find a nostalgic comfort. Though I don’t grow any crops--I could if I had the drive to do so, but I don’t--the grass, high as it is, passes like silky hair strands through the wind’s gentle fingers.

On the inside, it’s a tad nicer. I tore off all the old wallpaper and painted the entire house. The furniture is modern and since the space is cozy, I didn’t have to spend mountains of cash decorating.

“This place looks a lot better,” my dad observed as he inspected a painting I had hanging in the salon. “Who’s this by?”

“Edmund Sinclair,” I replied. Technically an original. Realizing that my dad wanted coffee as he stole into the kitchen and started opening up cabinet doors, I gingerly rose from the sofa and walked fleet-footed to the coffee machine.

“How tired are you?”

He looked at me flatly. “Ridiculously.”

I smirked. “Can’t argue with that.” I prepared a sizable pot of coffee and waited for the machine to brew the joe. I went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of half-and-half and fetched sugar from a side cabinet. I grinned when I saw dad still hadn’t found the coffee mugs. I went across the kitchen, opened a faded white cabinet, and pulled out two mugs.

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “See, I’m so tired I can’t even find a coffee cup.”

Sighing, I leaned against the beige wall, one foot on the wall. I saw dad start to chastise me and then stop as he realized it was my own wall I was getting dirty, not his own.

“You know, dad, I realize I haven’t been the easiest kid to raise.”

He snorted. “Sometimes we joke we should’ve just stopped with Courtney.”

I stuck out my tongue. “What’s life without a little adventure?”

“Life. Minus adventure.” Smart ass.

“Still. Thanks for sticking with me, I guess. I must’ve really freaked you guys out, especially when I was younger. It’s hard to have control as a kid.”

“No kidding. Remember when you almost set the house on fire?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “Oh, the good old days of danger and mayhem.”

“Oh, the good old days before you were born.”

“You’re so mean,” I sighed jokingly.

A moment of silence passed and dad broke it by clearing his throat. “I know that you really value your independence, and I want you to know that I appreciate you relying on us to foot your college bills. Being a bodyguard is not the way we want you to go.” It’s not exactly my first choice either, but it was better than a gig at McD’s.

“Most parents would be begging me to pay my own bills,” I pointed out.

“Most parents don’t have a kid like you to meddle with their plans.” I shrugged defensively and walked over to the coffee machine, checking the pot to see if any brown fluid had drizzled out.

“So what day is Courtney flying in?”

“Should be this Saturday afternoon,” dad replied. So five more days. “She wants to see everyone before flying back for school.”

“Hers starts on the twenty fifth, right?”

“Yeah, a month earlier than yours.” Sucks to be her. Going to school on the East coast didn’t solve all her midwest-centric problems. Crappy weather, high taxes, corn fields, etc. etc.

“So what am I supposed to do now for a month and a half until school starts?”

“Well, you just went on a road trip, right? Maybe grab a few friends and have a trek somewhere. Camping. The great outdoors.” Right, a road trip...

“Thanks, by the way, for making sure nobody knew I was in the hospital.” I think all of my buds just assumed my ‘road trip’ went longer than expected.

“It was for the best.” Thank God we were on the same page.

“Tell me about it. So,” I began, gesturing to my newly-finished kitchen. I know how to renovate a modern house; the benefits of already having lived through the 20th century. That and taxes. So many of my peers have no idea how to do taxes. “I followed through on my promise to make this place habitable, right?”

“Yeah yeah,” dad grunted. “I already said it looked nice. Don't milk it.” I chuckled and checked on the brewing coffee.

“Another trip, huh?”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “You have a month left of summer, better make the most of it. Graduate school's no laughing matter, especially if you want to work part time to be,” he stopped and formed air quotes, “independent.”

“Like you'll let me work part time,” I complained.

“You're just not allowed to do anything dangerous,” he sighed. “Jesus, you really had us spooked, you know.”

Silence. “Yeah. I'm sorry,” I said, shuffling my foot against the wall. “But seriously, just think of that as a freak accident.”

“Freak accident my ass.” I rolled my eyes but let the remark go. No need to tell him I'd been working similar jobs with other security firms all through undergrad. I've already added all of that money to a safe account I've been using for a few hundred years under different names. I like to keep a good store of money handy in case anything awful happens to me, or I'm reincarnated into some dirt-poor family somewhere.

I don't mind giving a good portion of it to charity, either. You have a different perspective on charity when you see people living in the same conditions for hundreds of years. It's criminal to rob billions of people of society's progress because fortune's key remains out of reach for the poor. It's hardening to see people die of diseases you died of when there's a cheap cure. Lives shouldn't be spent and wasted so carelessly.

“Any ideas on where we should go?” I asked offhandedly while I readied the coffee mugs for coffee dispension.

“How far are you willing to go?”

“I dunno. We have a month. I doubt that many people can go for an entire month, though.”

“Maybe a week or two, then,” he responded pensively. “You can choose someplace a few days away, then. Do you wanna go East or West?”

“Actually, I'll probably just ask whoever's going,” I shrugged. “It's probably unwise to lock into a set destination before I even see who's going.”

“Ah, okay then.” I finished distilling the coffee and plopped half and half and a spoon of sugar into both cups.

“Here,” I handed him his cup. “It's really hot,” I cautioned.

“Okay,” he murmured while blowing away the steam frothing at the brew's surface. “Well, then, since you're doing alright I'll leave you to your plans,” dad grunted, tightened his lips into a line. “If you ever impale yourself again, I'll kill you myself,” he warned, giving me an owl-eyed serious stare. “Kill. You.”

“Mmkay,” I grinned, shooing him out of the door. Placing his coffee mug in the dishwasher, I watched quietly as he entered the car and left.