“Think I’d like it?”
“I dunno.” Zadie could tell her mom was trying, but the small talk was making her uncomfortable. “It’s kind of depressing.”
“Most love stories are.”
Zadie nodded, unsure of whether her mom was still talking about books. Nora hadn’t had many successful relationships in her life. Neither Zadie’s nor Finn’s dad had made the list. The only boyfriend whose name Zadie even remembered was a man named Doug, whom her mom had asked out while he was in the process of towing her car. “He was so sweet about it,” Nora had said. “He kept apologizing.” They’d lasted almost six months, Doug and her mother. She never actually told Zadie why they’d split up.
Nora reached into her bag and pulled out her taxicab-yellow Walkman. “Mom, you know they have iPods, now? You can fit thousands of songs on them.”
“But Ilikemy Walkman,” Nora said. “I got it when I took you to see REO Speedwagon.”
“You took me to see REO Speedwagon? How old was I?”
“Six, I think. You didn’t care for it.”
“I’m shocked.”
“We left after three songs and got French fries.”
“And a Walkman.”
“And a Walkman.” Nora smiled and held out an earbud to her daughter. “Wanna share?”
“Is it REO Speedwagon?”
“No.”
“Then okay.”
The tape reached its end with a pop and Zadie opened her eyes.I must have dozed off,she thought as she blinked the floaters from her eyes and turned to face her mother. But Nora was no longer lying beside her.
Zadie sprang up and searched for her mom in the crowd like the world’s most traumatizing game of Where’s Waldo? It turned out Nora wasn’t the only forty-something brunette on the beach that day. Her heart pounded as she scanned the sea of faces. It wasn’t until Zadie turned to look behind her that she saw her mother crouched in the sand dunes, inspecting something near her feet. Zadie hurried over and was about to ask Nora what she was doing when her mother raised a hand to silence her. Then she placed her index finger on her lips and waved her daughter over with the other.
Zadie stepped carefully through the beach grass to her mother’s side. “Look,” Nora whispered and pointed to a small nest made of grasses, pebbles, and bits of seashell. In the middle of the nest were three peeping, pink-faced chicks.
“What are they?” Zadie whispered back.
“Snowy plovers. They must be waiting for Mom to get back with food.” Nora’s eyes glistened with childlike curiosity as the tiny creatures craned their wobbly necks to the sky. “These little guys are on the endangered species list. They build their nests in the sand, so they often get trampled on by people. You have to be careful when you’re clam digging, too. You might not see them until it’s too late.”
“That sucks,” Zadie said. She had the urge to scoop up the hatchlings, feel the warmth of their featherless bodies in her hands. “How do you know all of this?”
Nora looked like she had surprised even herself. “I don’t know… must have been something I saw on TV.” She stood and brushed the sand off her hands. “Let’s go for a dip, dry off in the sun for a bit. Then later, I think we should do something crazy.”
Zadie didn’t particularly like the sound of that. “Like what?”
“Just name something you’ve always wanted to do and we’ll do it.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She thought for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair.”
Nora smiled. “I think we can arrange that.”
“Why do you want to be a blonde, anyway?” Nora lingered in the bathroom doorway, looking at a box of goldenrod hair dye as Zadie bent over the motel sink, hair sticky with bleach.
“Because I hate my hair.” Like most teenage girls, byher hair,she meantherself,but hair is easier to change.