“Feel good to be back?” she asks quietly as she pulls us away from the airport.

I don’t respond, but god, the urge to immediately chat candidly with her about everything I’ve learned is like an itch I’m not allowed to scratch. I want to demand to know every tiny detail about what happened with Dad, and I want to know right now.

But if I want to milk this for the comedy, I have to hold my tongue. Play the long game. I could get so much more out of this landmine moment then I ever imagined. Hypothetically it might not come until … Siri and I reunite in Vegas. I could play mind games with this woman for four days.

I need to find a suitable way to distract myself through this drive so I don’t ruin everything with my giant mouth.

I reach behind me and unzip the front pocket of Siri’s carry-on where I stashed my notebook. I can write down my magic dust theories so I have them all on paper to run through with Siri later. I angle myself against the corner where the door and seat kiss.

Mara glances over. “What are you writing?” she asks in an overly polite, cheerful voice.

I flick my eyes to hers for a moment before dropping them back to the page. “A haiku about how hard it is to be your daughter.”

Mara grinds her teeth together as the light turns. “You’re clearly tired from your travels.”

“I slept on the plane,” I reply blankly. She grips the steering wheel harder.

“You’ll be happy to hear I’ve been talking things through with George. We’re planning a family reunion dinner with Gill on Saturday.”

I think Siri will be happy to hear that. It’s strange to hear Mara use the phrase “family reunion,” knowing that it has nothing to do with me. She doesn’t consider me family worth reunion-ing with.

I hold on to my silence for a bit. Mara looks tense, like I might pull out a sword and attack her at any moment. Like she’s afraid of Siri. Siri does have some anger issues. Perhaps Mara lives in fear of her daughter finally untangling her disgusting web of lies.

“Are you getting back together?” I respond belatedly.

“We’re working things through,” she says.

“Good.” This is good. I can have a lot of fun at this dinner.

“I was thinking you could make that delicious Greek casserole you made a few months ago. George and I loved it.”

Casserole? My mouth pops open, but I close it quickly. “You got it, Mother.”

I add this to the list of crap Siri and I have to work through on the phone later.

Mara pulls up to a small gray house on a dark, but quaint-looking, suburban street. She puts the Toyota into park and looks over at me.