February 1998
Maida’s driving home from Ridgemont, on the way to Garfield, her hometown, she's playing a CD, the volume turned all the way up, trying to distract herself, her head still spinning from the last couple of weeks. She’s still sore and bruised up from the night her and Elena escaped from Luke, the Ridgemont Butcher, the events still play out in her head constantly, even interrupting her dreams, she wakes up most nights in a cold sweat.
The thought of going back home fills her with both dread and a sense of relief, back to her boring old life and all the problems she'd left there. Now with a new knowledge that she can't tell anyone about. People will think she's crazy, she’s only got her boss Ed to talk to. It feels so strange to know something that most other people aren’t aware of, that the dead actually do walk among us. A whole part of the universe that’s open to her and remains a secret to others.
Maida often thinks of Elena and their short friendship. She'd stayed with her brother Michael and his wife Chelsea for a little while before coming home. She wasn't sure how she'd explain any of this to her mother, she still looked pretty beaten up. The snow had stopped but the air was still freezing cold, she could feel it coming through the vents in her car, she flips them closed, the cold was making her pain feel a lot worse. As Maida drives downhill, she can see the city of Garfield before her, the old buildings and big trees, the clock tower of town hall. The CD ends and she turns on the radio, hoping to listen to the news, the news about Elena's mother's arrest has finally died down but they still hadn't found any sign of Luke. She's been checking every day in case something changes.
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Maida was looking forward to seeing Ed again and had attempted to call him this morning but there was no answer. She didn’t leave a message, she thought it would be fun to make a surprise visit later that afternoon. She drives further into town, past the forest of trees surrounding the small city, the sun shining down through them. She goes down the main street past old nineteenth century brick and wood buildings, parts of the town looking like an old west movie set, she turns left past the park, filled with acres of oak trees planted by families in the area. She slows down and spies her house on the right, a red brick California bungalow with large windows. She turns into the driveway and parks behind an old yellow VW Beetle that belongs to her mother. She’d always hated the car when she was a kid, but now that she was older she'd grown to appreciate it, her mother was an artist and it suited her.
She gets out of her car and gives it a once over. It's a tad worse for wear, the dent in the back forever serving as a reminder of what she's been through. She locks the car and walks to her front door, stopping in front of it for a moment before going inside. As she steps into the house relief washes over her. She's home safe and can finally relax.
