Please, please, please! Let us go back to my car and then my life two hours from here, no matter what’s become of it. I crave it now and I don’t even know why. I crave my irreverent daughter who hates me and my cruel son who dismisses me. I miss my husband who pretends to be asleep when I come into our bedroom to be with him and I miss the dogs who want nothing but food. God help me, but I even miss the pain that never leaves.

It comes from a hidden place. A primal instinct. This missing of things.

The truck makes a turn and picks up speed.

“They’re empty,” he says now. “We were on our way to get them filled but the station was already closed.”

I look at the gas cans. I swear I can hear liquid splashing inside them but maybe I’m mistaken. Or maybe what I hear is nothing more than a few drops left at the bottom.

Why would he lie? The gas station was closed.

“What can we do?” I ask now.

“Road’s blocked. Tree just came down. Didn’t you hear it on the radio? Only one way to go now.”

I didn’t hear anything. I can’t hear a radio over the sound of the engine. And how was it reported so quickly?

The girl seems to know where we’re headed.

I open my purse to grab my phone. I have to tell them what’s happened, John and Nicole. I dig through the contents—wallet, brush, mints, tissues. I take them out and place them in my lap until the purse is empty.

Now I remember—the phone was in the charger, out of the purse, sitting on the seat.

I have no phone. A new kind of fear rises.

I ask now—

“Do you have a cell phone I could use? My family is probably very worried.”

Alice looks at her folded hands which sit in her lap.

And the man shakes his head.

“No. I’m so sorry. I left it at the house. Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon. You can make your call and we’ll see what can be done about getting you home.”

“Or you could just stay with us tonight!” Alice says. Again, turning back. Again, with exuberance.

The man is smiling now.

“One thing at a time,” he says.

And so we drive. We make turns. Left turns. Right turns. Deeper into the woods.

I can’t bear the silence. I can’t bear not knowing what this is. So I do what I think would be normal if my mind weren’t running in circles.

“I’m Molly, by the way. Molly Clarke. I really appreciate your help.”

Alice giggles nervously. The man stares ahead.

I try to catch his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Can I ask your name as well?”