William reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. His little face was pink and twisted with anger. Neither of us said a word.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Don’t worry, Gracie, it will be fun to live outdoors. More fun than being in that dumbhead house.”

I stared at the road: nothing coming or going.

“We can eat bugs and sleep under trees if it rains.”

“But I don’t wanna eat bugs,” I whimpered.

He poked my cheek. “You used to eat bugs all the time.”

I smiled, wiping my runny nose with the back of my sleeve. “That was when I was a baby.”

William always joked when he was nervous. We had taught ourselves to laugh when we really wanted to cry.

We stood there, waiting, scanning the distance for the car to return. My stomach hurt as I kept smiling, trying not to cry. My mother had dropped us on the side of the road before, but she had never driven out of sight.

William grabbed a stick and sat cross-legged in the gravel, tracing a circle with its tip. I sat next to him, my eyes following the lines he created.

I counted the seconds as high as I could, until I didn’t know what came next.

Then, as if nothing had happened, the station wagon appeared. A dot on the horizon, growing bigger and bigger until it was upon us. My mother stopped the car, and we crossed the street and climbed in. I sat in the middle seat, between my siblings, and remained quiet. The gnawing feeling in my stomach—the one that I have grown all too familiar with—wouldn’t subside, even as we pulled into the driveway of our home.

That was the day I realized I didn’t know what my mother was capable of.

Chapter 41

The blueish-white sunlight of early morning poured through the open window. I listened as a blue jay rustled in the tree outside, preparing his nest. Jack was stroking my hair and staring past me. “What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked.

“I have class at noon, then work later.”

I had been hired at a second-hand bookstore downtown. My evenings were consumed with sifting through dusty books, stocking shelves, and reading the classics. Jack said it was the perfect job for me.

“How about you?”

“I’ve got to go to the gallery.” He paused. “I have a meeting with a potential buyer. Someone I met at that party, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You met her, remember? Jessica?”

I felt my shoulders tense. “Yeah, I remember.”

Jack kicked the sheets off before standing. I reached forward, grabbing the edge and automatically smoothing them out before covering myself. I stared as he rummaged through the closet, selecting a green corduroy shirt. He pulled it on, one arm at a time, and began buttoning it.

I kicked my feet beneath the sheets and sighed in an attempt to get his attention. Jack continued to button, his head down. “What will you do after the meeting?” I asked, though I knew he would head to the dive bar around the corner. Either disappointed with the outcome of the meeting or celebrating a successful day, he’d sit at the bar with the regular daytime drunks, telling jokes and buying them drinks.