CHAPTER THREE
My mother was late.
Not just late. A half hour late. And not answering her phone. Two things that never happened. Clearly, she was dead.
“What?” Marisol, horrified, said as she spooned mashed bananas into Leo’s open mouth. In the adjacent living room, Will and Piper were in their morning trance, cereal bowls balanced on their laps as some cartoon blared from the TV. My dad was still in bed, as sleep was a commodity, always. “Finley. No. I’m sure she just got held up somehow. Try her again.”
Marisol’s extended family—parents, an older brother, three younger sisters—was loud and tightly interconnected, their exchanges over the phone and at gatherings a whizzing mix of laughter, Spanish, and English. My mom’s quiet, and the ripple effect it tended to cause, had always mystified her.
I turned back to my phone and saw the last text I’d sent to Colin, who was leaving for the airport shortly.Miss you already, it read, followed by a heart. No response, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. When traveling, the Frisbee Fam moved with military precision as well as a strict phone use policy, which his mom maintained “preserved the experience.” I’d hear from him eventually.
Just then, a shiny silver Lexus pulled up in front of our house. My mom was behind the wheel. I didn’t even know she could drive.
“She’s here,” I reported, watching as she cut the engine. Usually she was in work attire, which as far as I knew was also her life attire: black-suit wear in the form of a jacket, sleeveless dress, and tailored pants in one combo or another. Now she was in a simple black T-shirt. Another first.
“Oh, good,” Marisol said, sounding so relieved, it was clear she’d been worried too. She padded down the hallway, poking her head into their bedroom. “Jason. Finley’s car is here.”
My mother did not move from her seat. Instead, she just sat there, studying her rearview mirror like it was her job. Finally, she emerged, starting slowly up the walk. I opened the door just as she was climbing the steps.
“Hey,” I said, as I heard my dad and Marisol come into the kitchen, Leo squawking a greeting. “Everything okay?”
“Not exactly,” she said. Her always-sleek hair was pulled back into a bun, a few waves hanging loose. She had dark circles under her eyes I knew I would have noticed the day before.
“Catherine?” I turned to see my dad behind me, his face still sleepy, in a T-shirt and gym shorts that constituted his pajamas. “What’s going on?”
Instead of answering, my mom looked at me. As if something in my face would decide what happened next. Then she said, “I have to go to the woods.”
Camping? I couldn’t even picture my mom in a tent. It was like trying to imagine her on the moon.
“Your parents’ house?” my dad said. “Now?”
She nodded, looking down at the key fob clutched in her hand. “We’re finally selling.”
I looked at Marisol, who seemed as clueless as I was. All I knew about my mom’s family was that she was from a small city in the southeastern part of the state. I’d been there twice: once in second grade to visit my grandmother in her rest home, and then again a couple of years later for her funeral. Both were a blur, tinged with formality, as all activities involving my mom tended to be. My dad said, “Liz and Kasey actually want to do that?”
“So it seems.” She swallowed, and I had a bolt of panic, thinking she might cry. For some reason, I was not sure I could handle that. Instead, she took a breath. “The bottom line is, I’ve been needing to go, and I haven’t. Now I’m out of time.” She turned, looking at me. “I’m so sorry, Finley.”
“So New York isn’t happening?” I asked, still confused. Then a realization. “I could have gone on the cruise?”
A beat as she looked at me, and I swear—strange as it sounded—she seemed hurt. But then, just as quickly, her face changed. Cold and distant, familiar yet again.
“No,” she said. She took a breath, steeling herself. “We’re going to the lake.”
The worst part was passing the airport exit.
If it had been the final moments of a rom-com, I could have booked myself on Colin’s flight immediately, while his grandparents somehow discovered one extra cruise ticket. Cueus waving from the ship’s deck as it left port, everything perfect and solved. But this was real life, so I watched a plane taking off in my rearview, swallowing over the lump in my throat.
It had been over fifteen minutes since we’d gotten into the car at my house, and my mother had still not uttered a word. Instead, she just kept taking breaths, like she was about to speak, and then exhaling, saying nothing. She was also driving fast, changing lanes often. For a place she clearly didn’t want to go, she sure was in a hurry to get there.
Finally, after about thirty minutes, she took an exit, pulling into a Chicks right off the ramp. When I looked at her, she said, “Bathroom. You should go here so we don’t have to stop again.”
Then she opened her door, getting out, and I followed her inside. I’d never been to any eatery with my mom that did not have a bar and a hostess stand. Now she headed for this fast-food joint restroom like she’d been there a million times, passing a few seniors having breakfast in the booths. I pulled out my phone, quickly texting Colin again, hoping I might catch him before he boarded.
Change of plans. Going to the lake?
“I’m getting coffee,” my mom announced as she returned. She’d put on her sunglasses. “You want anything?”
I shook my head, and she turned, studying the lit-up menu over the registers. After using the bathroom as she’d directed (what was I, two?), I splashed some water on my face, drying it with a rough paper towel. Back at the car, my mother was behind the wheel, engine already running. She said nothing asI got in and was pulling away before I’d even gotten my seat belt on, back into the flow of semis and commuters headed east.
