“Do you know her?”
Zadie nodded.
“Good. Tell her if she wants a spot next week, she has some ass-kissing to do.” Something across the room stole the emcee’s attention. “Excuse me,” he said and walked off.
Zadie stood there, dumbfounded. Had her mom really just left her teenage daughter alone in a bar with no money? The worry she felt moments ago was quickly engulfed in anger. The late-night wandering, the urgent trip to the desert, the way she evaded every one of Zadie’s questions—all the memories from the past year that Zadie had tried to suppress burst forth like a geyser. She had never thought of Nora as a bad mother, but now—as she stood helpless in a room full of inebriated strangers, armed with only two knees and the world’s most insufficient self-defense course—she had a change of heart.
By the time Zadie crossed the train tracks and saw the glowing orange tiles of their house’s windows, it was almost midnight. She had walked most of the way home along the shoulder of a country road, muttering prayers to herself every time she felt the wash of headlights on her back. With every fraught step, she felt her anger grow, so that when she finally reached the front door, she was ready for a fight.
Before she could even touch the knob, the door lurched open, and Nora was standing there with a severe expression. “Zadie! Where the hell were you?”
Zadie gawked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘Where was I?’ You’re the one who left me there!” She shouldered past her mother into the house.
Nora tailed her into the hallway. “Good one,” she scoffed. “If you’re going to lie to me, maybe don’t use me as your alibi.”
Zadie whipped around to face her mom, body trembling with rage. “What about this, huh?” She held up the back of her fist.
Nora clearly recognized the insignia of the stamp and hesitated. “How’d you get that?”
Zadie didn’t dignify her question with a response. “I can’t believe you just bailed. I had to walk all the way home. Did you not get my texts?”
A look of horror came over her mother’s face. She touched her right hand to her bottom lip like it was bleeding. “I think… I lost my phone.”
“Maybe you left it at the bar with your daughter.”
Nora folded her arms in front of her and shook her head, either in disagreement or disbelief. Zadie couldn’t tell. “No. No, I would have remembered.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I didn’t say that.” Nora dragged the nails of her right hand across her left arm.
“Then what? What doyouthink happened, Mom?”
“I don’t know, Zadie.” She moved toward her daughter, arms outstretched. “But I’m so—”
“Don’t,” Zadie said, backing out of her mother’s reach. “Don’t apologize. I just want to know why. Why’d you leave me there?” This was her mother’s chance. If she came clean, Zadie would have forgiven her. She would have helped her overcome whatever it was that had turned her mom into a stranger. But when Nora didn’t answer, Zadie said, “You know what… don’t bother. I don’t wanna know.” Then she marched down the hall to her room and slammed the door behind her.
FIFTEENA WELL-TRAVELED HAT
It was one of those dreams you know isn’t real.
Finn clawed her way out from underneath the covers of a bed. A quick inspection of her hands revealed a complexion several shades lighter than her own; black nail polish; a jute friendship bracelet that she recognized as once belonging to her sister. The Joan Jett poster tacked to the inside of the door confirmed Finn’s suspicion: in this dream, she was Zadie.
Cooool,she thought. Finn had never had an echo of her sister. Zadie’s memory was like one of those secret doors with a sliding window in which a pair of suspicious eyes asks you for the password. Finn had promised never to use the password, so her mind must have invented a memory of Zadie’s for her to explore. Dream Finn had no qualms about this. Dream Finn was a lot less considerate.
An unsteady feeling caused Finn/Zadie to sit up. She didn’t feel dizzy exactly, just off-center. Her stomach lurched like she was falling. Then she stood on wobbly feet and swung open the bedroom door.
In front of her: an empty hallway, mustard-yellow carpet, photos on the walls, a clock somewhere was counting seconds like pennies:click, click, click.At the end of the hallway was a staircase, and beside the staircase was a window shaped like a piece of honeycomb. The light that filtered through it was the color we think honey is (gold), not what it really is (brown).
Finn/Zadie was now walking down that hallway, her feet pillowed by the ugly carpet that their mother couldn’t afford to replace. The yellow brick road, that’s what Nora had called it, and so they had held hands and skipped.We’re off to see the wizard!Her sister and mother used to sing together. Finn had forgotten that.
But that was the past. Finn/Zadie was more interested in the future. She reached the golden staircase and began her descent.
Suddenly her childhood home vanished and Finn was back in her bed at the Indigo Motel. She flopped onto her side to face the bed next to hers. All she could see of her sister was a tuft of hair sticking out from underneath the duvet like one of Goldilocks’s bears. It was only a dream, not a real memory, but Finn felt guilty nonetheless.
Her phone buzzed on her nightstand. It was a text from Kathy in all caps:CALL ME.Oops,Finn thought. She’d meant to call the night before, but she’d been distracted.Inhabiting your missing mother’s body will do that to you.As quietly as she could, Finn slipped from beneath the covers and out the front door, gently pulling it closed behind her.
Finn padded barefoot down the concrete walkway until she reached the entrance to the pool. The water glittered with help from the fledgling sun, the deck empty save for an abandoned towel draped over one of the chair backs. Finn sat on the edge of the pool by the walk-in stairs and plunged her feet into the shallows.