She blinked. “No.”
“Why not?”
Another blink. “Because I threw it in the fireplace.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”
“Okay then.” I wrapped my whole arm in ribbon and yanked. The giant bow snapped and fluttered into a bleeding pile on the ground. I leaned to one side to peer into the cab. I saw what I was looking for: the keys were right there in the ignition.
Mom came to life as I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. “What are you doing? Jolene, get out of the carright now.”
I closed the door. I even thought to lock it a second before she thought to try to open it. Her eyes grew wide so that I could see the white rims around her irises.
“Open the door.”
I started the engine.
“Open the door.”
I shifted into Reverse.
Self-preservation forced her back a step. I adjusted my mirrors and fastened my seat belt before I peeled out, the stink of brand-new tires burning rubber causing my eyes to tear.
“Where are you going?Where are you going?” my mother screamed after me. “Baby, come back!”
I curled my fingers around the steering wheel and went to see my father.
ADAM
When I’d told Jolene that all electronics had been banned from our little family road trip, I had assumed the rule was restricted to devices with communication capabilities, like cell phones, tablets, and laptops. I wrongly thought my old MP3 player would be fine, considering we had a two-hour drive in front of us.
Mom’s Geo was packed with our bags, Jeremy was driving, and I was more than content to claim the back seat for myself. No sooner had I climbed in and turned on my MP3 player than she yanked the buds from my ears and confiscated it.
“Seriously?” I asked her.
“Grandpa will not be okay with this on the farm.” She waved the earbuds back and forth before winding them up and putting the whole thing in her purse. “Besides, I don’t want you checking out for the whole drive. When’s the last time we went away for a couple days as a family?”
I thought of Dad alone in his apartment. Jeremy was the moron who actually brought that up out loud. “We drove to Niagara Falls last summer, but Dad was with us, so this isn’t the whole family.”
Mom stilled, then said she needed to take my MP3 player inside, and left us in the car.
I kicked the back of Jeremy’s seat. “What the hell?”
“Quit it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” I said. “You just had to bring up Dad. Look what you did.” I flung a hand toward the house.
Jeremy settled more into his seat. “Maybe she needs the reminder.”
That wasn’t Mom’s problem. It wasn’t that she forgot anything that had happened, it was that shecouldn’tforget it. I imagined it as if all the most painful moments of her life were playing on a continuous loop in her head, and when Jeremy went out of his way to bring up something raw, it jolted the volume up louder. She was inside the house agonizing over Dad’s absence, the effect that it was having on Jeremy and me, the guilt from all her decisions, and the reasons she’d made them. Greg. Over and over again.
“It’s different with her than Dad,” I said.
“I know that. You think I don’t care? That I like making her hurt or knowing Dad’s rotting away in that apartment all the time?”
Sometimes, yeah, I did think that. “You don’t act like you care. How is saying stupid stuff to Mom caring?”
