The second podcast ends, I reach out and turn off the radio. We’re speeding down a blank, empty highway through a boundless span of desert. It looks like we’ve completely left civilized society. We pass the occasional sign for a wonky themed diner off in the middle of Nowheresville, but we have no plans to stop. We’re going straight to Vegas. We’ll eat when we get there.

“Nothing like a good Thrones breakdown, eh, Jame?” Dad muses again.

I exhale. “Yep, it was great, Dad.”

“There’s really so much in these books that we don’t see until we put them under a microscope.”

“Dad.” Frustration leaks into the word.

“Yeah! What’s up, you getting nervous for the show? You know I’m really proud of you getting this all by yourself. Who connected it? Someone from Laugh Drop?”

“Yeah, someone from Laugh Drop.” I sigh, knowing I already told a story about how I applied for it online. I guess he just wasn’t listening. “I want to talk about Mom.”

I feel Dad’s cheer blow out of him. “Not this again, Jame.”

“I want to hear the story, of how you met and why you fell apart. Those days before we moved out here”—I swallow, trying to find the right words—“haunt me. To get past that, I have to understand what happened.”

“What happened was your mother was stubborn and cold and didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself.”

Anger swells in my chest.

“I want to know something good about Mom,” I say stiffly.

My dad has the nerve to laugh. “There’s nothing good about Mom.”

“There must have been or you wouldn’t have married her!” I scream.

“Jesus Christ, Jamie,” he bursts back. “Lower your voice.”

“You stole me away from her, the least you could do is tell me what the fuck made you like her so much that you spent more than a week having sex with her!”

I blink, gazing out the windshield, a little taken aback by my own outburst. I just dropped the f-bomb for the first time since … I learned about the f-bomb.

Dad shudders. “I don’t know, Jame! Your mother would always finish things and put them back in the refrigerator. She put too much ketchup on everything.” He glances over at me. “She’d make that infuriating face that you’re making when she was angry!”

“Tell me about when you first met. You two used to love each other, correct? Or did you get married for the hell of it?”

Dad’s face is flushed as he stares straight out at the sand-colored nothingness surrounding the highway.

“Back then, everything was different. We were still in college.” Each word comes short and clipped, like it’s a struggle to get them out of his mouth. “She was a force of … nature. A captivating one. Graceful and full of life and ambition.