I want more for you
And for that I’ll take less of you
I’ve taken enough from you
Already
Joel appeared unconvinced. “I thought songs like this would make you sad, considering—” He stopped himself.
“Considering my mom left?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged.
Joel handed the photograph back to Zadie. “Can I be real with you for a sec?”
Zadie tossed him a questioning look. “Sure.”
“Why do you want to find her? I mean, all I remember is you talking about how much you hated her for leaving.”
Zadie hesitated. The change of heart had snuck up on her, too. They’d been at the Van Houtens’ for only a little over twenty-four hours, but in that time she’d received a crash course in being a single parent. Every hour contained dozens of decisions, big and small,that determined how healthy and happy and loved your children felt. Nora had committed the worst sin of all: she’d made Zadie feel unloved. But what if the decisions Nora had made the day she left—walk out door, get in car, drive away—had not been her own? Then she was no more to blame than Zadie, who made the decision not to stop her. “Because,” she began, “I’m starting to think it wasn’t her fault.”
Joel, skeptical, continued, “I just remember how much you used to cry over her. It made me so angry. I wanted to find her myself so I could tell her—I don’t know what I would’ve said… that you deserved better or something.”
Zadie lifted her eyes to meet Joel’s, testing his sincerity. He didn’t flinch. Gratitude welled inside her. She remembered nights spent crying in his arms, how he would hum soothing songs and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. “Thank you,” she said, threading her fingers through his. Joel squeezed her hand back. Then his fingers drifted up her wrist, her forearm, her shoulder. When his fingers reached her neck, she knew he was about to kiss her.
TWENTYTHREE DAYS
(UNTILNORAWILDER’S DISAPPEARANCE)
“It’s not fair! I want blue hair, too.” Zadie had thought Finn might be jealous that Nora and she had gone to the beach without her, but that didn’t even come up. After almost two weeks of her little sister sulking and attempting to make her own dye by breaking open ballpoint pens, their mom finally gave in and painted a blue streak into Finn’s curls. “I can’t wait to show it off at the festival,” she said as she ran the blue tendril through her fingers.
Nora and Finn attended the Hog-Wild Chili Fest every year without fail. Despite its name, it was so much more than just chili. There were bands, barbecue, carnival games, and contests that involved men putting hot peppers on their tongues and trying not to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. It was an activity that Zadie—averse to both crowds and spicy food—had no desire to participate in, so it had become Nora and Finn’s own little mother-daughter tradition.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come this year?” Nora asked Zadie, who was watching TV upside down, her legs slung over the back of the couch.
“Nope.”
“Zadie hates fun,” Finn said.
“No, I just hate chili.”
“Well, if you change your mind,” Nora continued, guiding her younger child toward the front door, “we’ll be in the chili tent, eating our body weight in beans.”
“Gross.”
“Love you.” Nora took a moment to blow her daughter a kiss before leaving the house.
Ever since their trip to the beach, Zadie and Nora had been in a good place. It helped that Nora had been acting more like her old self. Her eyes were clear and they made Zadie feel seen. It felt like they’d turned a corner: that maybe whatever it was that had made her mom act so strange was finally over.
That is, until two hours later when she got a call from her sister. “I need you to come pick me up.” Finn sounded annoyed.
“Why? Where’s Mom?”
“I don’t know. She’s not answering her phone.”
Zadie kept her voice even. “Where are you now?”