Not for the first time, Mack marveled at the difference between her own childhood and her daughter’s. Mack’s early years were adventure and chaos, but she’d busted her ass to make her own daughter’s life predictable and serene. She’d been so sure that Shaw needed stability, that their life needed to be quiet and calm and uneventful, but looking around the motor coach Mack wondered if she’d steered them from safe into boring. Shaw seemed to be enjoying the adventure.
Mack twisted her hair off her neck, feeling hot and overwhelmed.
“Billie made it all fancy,” Wes remarked. “Did all the work herself, too. She could have her own business decorating RVs, couldn’t you, baby?”
“This is the only RV I’m interested in, hon.” Mack had to glance away from the tender look they shared. “This is our little slice of retirement heaven.”
“Retirement?”
Wes startled, then quickly lifted one side of his mouth in a lazy smile. “A man can dream, can’t he?”
Billie opened the full-size refrigerator and offered Mack a can of fizzy water but she waved it off. “Hey, this company is a good idea for sponsorship! Who doesn’t love flavored fizzy water?”
“Me,” Mack retorted. Her body ached and everything about the situation gave her the heebie-jeebies. How could her dad be thinking about retirement when Mack was wondering if she needed to get over her pride and find a job at the local appliance factory to pay for the extravagance of this RV and her few weeks chasing the Indy 500?
“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Laurie tapped at her phone. “I’m making a list of specialty beverage companies and emailing tonight.”
Ever the older sister, Laurie continued to help Mack with sponsorships despite being swamped at work, and despite their ability to reelin anyone yet. It was Laurie’s version of an olive branch, and Mack was trying to accept that Laurie’s bossy assistance might be the only piece of her sister she’d ever get. In the two weeks Mack had lived with her sister, Laurie had spent 90 percent of her time at the office, on her computer, or on her phone. When Mack asked about her job, Laurie always responded with the same bluntIt’s fine.Laurie asked Mack endless questions about her time at the track, but it was clear her sister wasn’t going to share any of her interior life with Mack.
Shaw tugged on the hem of Billie’s cropped T-shirt. “B, can I have a snack?”
Billie handed her a container of hummus and celery from the fridge and plopped down on the padded banquette. Her daughter, consummate Doritos and blue Powerade aficionado, ate hummus now?
A large whiteboard hanging over the table caught her eye. “What’s that?”
Wes beamed. “Another one of Billie’s ideas. A weekly schedule with all our appointments and activities, right where I can see it. Keeps me from asking Billie a hundred questions.”
“I read about it on a blog for caregivers of brain injury patients. Visual cues are so important!” Billie pointed around the room at the light switches and cabinet doors, and Mack saw that each one had a tidy label:Overhead Light. Spices. Plates. Batteries. “We put them up in the bathroom and bedroom, too. The labels help your dad find things independently.”
A sickening mix of shame and judgment swirled in Mack’s belly. More often than not, it was easier for Mack to hand Wes a fork or turn on the lights herself. Had she held her dad’s recovery back? Kept him from being more independent because she was in a rush to get things done?
“We got a shared calendar on our phones, too. Little alarms tell me when to take my meds.” He pulled Billie closer with his good arm. “Ain’t this woman a goddamn miracle?”
Mack’s stomach bucked. The RV felt hot and disorienting and too much like an actualhome.
Laurie shot Billie a polite but firm look. “I bet Mack is ready to go.”
“Oh, right! I’ll get us fired up. We’ll drop you off but come back here for the night. Paid for the camping spot and all.” Billie glided into the oversize driver’s seat, buckled herself in, and lowered the steering wheel. Seconds later, they were bumping out of the parking lot and onto the interstate. Outside the window, Indianapolis passed by, its tightly gridded neighborhoods filled with brick and clapboard houses, tidy squares of greening lawns, and rows and rows of sycamores, maples, elms, and aging oaks.
Mack perched on the soft seat next to Shaw, half-heartedly answering Wes’s questions about gearing ratio and the in-car tools. Her body was shot after a day of wrestling the car, and being in this RV made her feel extraneous.
The street was quiet when Billie pulled the RV into a no-parking zone and turned on the flashers. The glass and limestone of Laurie’s apartment building glowed pale silver in the fading light, and Mack wished she could teleport upstairs and into a hot shower.
“Get some rest,” Wes ordered. “Big day tomorrow.” She felt her dad’s hand, once rough but now soft, on the back of her neck. “Hey,” he whispered, as if they were the only two people in the RV. “It’s just another day racing, and you know what they say.”
In tandem, they said, “A bad day of racing is still better than not racing at all.”
From:[email protected]
To:[email protected]; [email protected]
Subject:RE: Unique Indy 500 Sponsorship Opportunity! [May 15, 11:33 p.m.]
Dear Ms. Williams,
Thank you for contacting the Ditzy Candy Company. At this time, we do not participate in athletic sponsorships.
Sincerely,
