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Back Memories in the Drift Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. CHAPTER ONE
  6. CHAPTER TWO
  7. CHAPTER THREE
  8. CHAPTER FOUR
  9. CHAPTER FIVE
  10. CHAPTER SIX
  11. CHAPTER SEVEN
  12. CHAPTER EIGHT
  13. CHAPTER NINE
  14. CHAPTER TEN
  15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  16. CHAPTER TWELVE
  17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  23. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Then why does she sleep so much? And how come she hardly ever leaves our apartment anymore or bakes or does anything like she used to? And do you know what’s in her water bottle? Tate does. He says it’s booze, and that’s what makes his dad so mean. I snuggled deeper into his arms. Mom’s not mean, but she cries a lot.

Dad didn’t speak, and I burrowed my head against his chest, sure that I’d said something wrong. Eventually, when the silence was too much, I pushed out of his arms to see his face, and when I did, I wished I hadn’t looked. His eyes were so wet they were shiny, like he was crying, except Dad was too big and strong to cry.

Oh, Claire, no, honey. Alice, she just . . . oh. He looked up at the sky as if he thought the answer was up there. But all I saw were thick gray clouds that hung down so low I thought I could stick my fingers into them like Play-Doh. His breath was a gentle wave that pushed my head up and down. Mom will get better, Claire, I just know it. All she needs is some time, okay? He looked down at me. I can’t think of anything I’d love more than you as my driving partner, but you need to stay in school, not drive trucks with me. I can’t make things different for your mom right now, sweetheart, so I drive trucks to make things different for you. Okay? And your job is to stay in school and learn everything you can and then go out there—he pointed in the direction of the tunnel—and share it with the rest of the world.

My phone buzzes with a reminder. Make a chicken Caesar salad for the dinner party. On the kitchen table is my turquoise salad bowl filled with Parmesan-dusted romaine lettuce along with glasses of tea, with ice cubes melting on top, and a basket of bread that gives the air a bite of garlic. Dinner is ready. I swipe left and the reminder disappears.

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

When my clock reads 6:05, I open the door and stick my head into the hallway just as Harriet steps around the corner from the elevator with Sefina, who waves and smiles. Sefina moved here when we were both nineteen, but I was in college and she was a single mom of two young girls. Despite our differences, a friendship grew over visits home and summer breaks, a shared scorn for men, and a similar determination to be in control of our own lives. Even now, when everyone I knew from college has stopped calling, Sefina is still my friend. It’s all in my notes.