WE LEFT ON A THURSDAY • by L.A. Troha

We left on a Thursday. I remember because I didn’t want to miss Law and Order

Before we left, we watched that show together a lot, mostly on the couch, falling asleep while bodies turned up in alleyways and Ice-T delivered quippy lines to lying perps, and we never once thought of what it might be doing to our little minds, or what it meant about them already, that we liked to watch it so much.

When he went to work, me and Sadie got in the car and backed out like usual — except we just didn’t come back. It was so easy, I kind of wondered why we waited so long. His routine was to fill the gas tank on Mondays, but only part way, just enough for Sadie to take us to school and get groceries and then come right back home. So, she had to make a plan: Sadie asked for lunch money from friends and saved up for three months to afford the gas to fill the tank.

At the gas station we loaded up on junk: Licorice, pop, pretzels, gummy worms, chips. At first it felt like a fever dream slumber party, with Sadie in the driver’s seat blasting Don’t Stop Believin’. She kept singing and reaching into the gas station brown bag, coming up with more snacks every time: Jerky, granola bars, bubble gum, sour straws.

But there were problems by the end of that first day. We drove all the way to the coast and when we got there the dashboard’s orange needle was glowing on E. Sadie was still acting excited, but it felt hollow. Her plan had only gotten us to the full tank of gas. She knew we needed to go, but to where, for how long, and without money hadn’t been made clear.

At a rest stop near Lincoln City, Sadie got rid of the trash from our food. At the time her phone was still working so we streamed a spotty rerun of Law and Order and fell asleep as raindrops fell from the trees and splatted onto the sunroof.

He started calling early in the morning when the sun was a dim gray lamp. I don’t know why it took him so long. There were too many curse words for me to say here, but the gist of it was where did you go and you’re just like your mother and you’ll be back and you’ll see what it’s like.

Sadie blocked his number and it was decided: The rest stop would be our home until, until, until… nothing else.

She convinced a few travelers to give us sandwiches or money and for a while we went walking and hopped over fences to get strip mall fast food. On day five, he remembered to cut service to Sadie’s phone, and that’s how Law and Order ended. Sadie had to come up with a new plan, which was to walk to the beach and find a new family. She told me we’ll have a nice mom and probably a dog and maybe even a baby brother or sister. She hadn’t eaten in a long time. Before we left, she got into reading things about the power of her mind. I was hungry too and I wanted to believe her, so bad I almost did.

We sat on a colorless log at the beach, watching small waves cap white in the big scary sea. Sadie said, remember the song? and then she launched into Don’t Stop Believin’ againuntil an actual family really showed up. They had a golden retriever and a toddler who had wise glassy eyes. The mom did look nice. When she saw us she crouched and touched her chin. Sadie said, mom? and the mom said, oh sweetie, I’m sorry. She said other things, but I was too hungry to pay attention and anyway I knew what she was saying was bad. The mom got on her phone. She said yes, police?

The rest of it is mostly gone from my mind. I just hear, still now, Sadie’s off-key voice drowning out the mom on the phone as she took my hand, scream-singing and begging me to join in. We ran down the wet sand while the mom trailed after us, describing our hair and clothes and ages in greater detail than anyone in my whole life ever had.


L.A. Troha currently lives in Honolulu, Hawaii, though she was born and raised in the Seattle area.


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Every Day Fiction