It takes her three more days to reach Green Bay, and by the time she gets there, the hawk has left her mind completely. The streets are draped in green and gold banners. Snowbanks stained with mud and diesel fuel; Dairy Queens, Taxidermy, Cheese Factories, Packers paraphernalia is on sale at greatly reduced prices. She hunts for the address of her aunt Dottie. She remembers some of these streets from when she was a very little girl. She remembers her mother pulling her and her sister around in a red wagon with wooden slats built up on the sides so the two of them wouldn’t tumble out. She barely remembers her father at all. She runs her fingers down the silky neck of the dark green urn, thinking it will be the last time she’ll have her mother all to herself. She checks the lid to make sure it’s tight. She managed to collect most of the spilled ashes by scraping them into her tennis shoe and pouring them gently back in, but tiny flakes of her mother still cling to the rubber floor mats, the dashboard, and some must have surely blown out forever into the vast white Utah wasteland. “They’ll never know the difference,” she thinks. “They’ll never know she’s not all in there.” She spots her aunt’s house and turns into the narrow driveway, thinking it all looks much smaller than she remembered. Her heart starts racing for some reason, like she’s got something to be guilty about. Her sister Sally’s there to meet her, standing right there by the porch like she’s been expecting her any minute. No one else, just Sally. She cuts the engine and grabs the dark green urn with both hands, bearing down on the slender neck; praying she won’t drop it. Sally opens the car door for her and takes the urn from her sister, feeling the sudden weight of their mother between them. The sisters smile at each other, then Sally says: “Did you bring my hundred bucks?”

Betty’s Cats

BETTY’S CATS

Now Betty, how are we going to address this situation?

What’s the problem?

The cats, Betty.

That’s not my problem.

It’s our problem, Betty. They’re going to confiscate your trailer again if you don’t do something about it.

They can’t confiscate my trailer.

They did it once already.

Well, they won’t do it again.

Betty— They’ve given you notice. If you don’t get rid of the cats they’re going to take your trailer away. It’s as simple as that. Now I don’t want to see that happen again. I mean where are you going to go, Betty?

I’ll find something.

I’m willing to help you out, Betty, but I have to have your cooperation.

You don’t have to help.

I want to help.