3763 GRANITE RD
MILLPORT, WASHINGTON
SEVENTEENTWO WEEKS
(UNTILNORAWILDER’S DISAPPEARANCE)
Five days had passed since open mic night at Hound Dog’s. Zadie had made pains to avoid her mother when she could, going straight to the library after school and staying there until the voice on the PA system informed her of its closing. When she got home, she’d sneak leftovers from the kitchen—ignoring the place setting that had been left for her on the table—and take them to her room. Nora didn’t knock on her door or ask to talk. She gave Zadie her space, even if that meant catching nothing but glimpses of her daughter as she moved from one closed door to another like a ghost.
On the sixth day, Zadie didn’t go to the library after school. When it was time for dinner, she emerged from her room and took a seat at the table next to her sister. Nora talked a little, Finn talked a lot, and Zadie listened. When the plates were clean and Finn had scampered off to her room to play with her Legos, Zadie tried to slip away before her mom had a chance to initiate a conversation between the two of them.
“Hey, Zadie. Hold up a minute.” Zadie reluctantly turned to face her mom. “I wanted to run something by you.”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking…” There was a glint in her eye like a ring catching the light. “Since Finn has that Girl Scout trip next weekend, maybe you and me could do something together.”
“Like what?”
“What about the beach?”
“The beach?”
“Yeah. We could get a motel for a night. Lay out on the sand, then fall asleep and get sunburns. Whaddya say?”
It sounded fun enough, but Zadie was uncertain. If her mom could ditch her at a bar, what was to say she wouldn’t run off and leave her alone on a beach somewhere? If she did, Zadie wouldn’t be able to just walk home. “I dunno…”
“Please. I screwed up. Bad. Let me make it up to you.”
Her contrition looked genuine even if the gesture was a little over the top. Zadie considered the offer, made it dance for her, do backflips. “Can I pick the music on the drive down?”
“Yes.”
“And do you promise not to talk the whole time?”
“I can try.”
Eventually, Zadie gave a conciliatory nod, and Nora clapped her hands together. “Great! This Saturday. Pack your swimsuit.”
Zadie returned to her room and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. She blew the dust bunnies off it and began to pack, grabbing two swimsuits, just in case.
They dropped their bags off at the Sailor’s Knot Motel, a one-story white stucco building with “views” of the Gulf that required a fair amount of squinting. Once they had claimed their sides of the bed and slathered themselves in sunscreen, Nora and Zadie walked the two blocks to the beach past brightly colored souvenir shops and men selling Popsicles out of refrigerated carts.
The beach itself was crowded, so they chose a spot on the far end next to a rocky groin and spread out their towels on the sand. Sensing her mother wanted to chat, Zadie buried her nose in the book she’d brought with her. Nora took the hint, but hercompliance lasted only thirty seconds before she asked, “How is that?”
“Good,” Zadie grunted.
“What’s it about?” Nora was lying on her side now, with her head in her hand, peering at her daughter through oversize sunglasses.
“It’s about a man returning home from war.”
“Which war?”
“Two, I think.”
“Is it a love story?”
“Yeah.”