Zadie stood there, dumbfounded. Had her mom really just left her teenage daughter alone in a bar with no money? The worry she felt moments ago was quickly engulfed in anger. The late-night wandering, the urgent trip to the desert, the way she evaded every one of Zadie’s questions—all the memories from the past year that Zadie had tried to suppress burst forth like a geyser. She had never thought of Nora as a bad mother, but now—as she stood helpless in a room full of inebriated strangers, armed with only two knees and the world’s most insufficient self-defense course—she had a change of heart.

By the time Zadie crossed the train tracks and saw the glowing orange tiles of their house’s windows, it was almost midnight. She had walked most of the way home along the shoulder of a country road, muttering prayers to herself every time she felt the wash of headlights on her back. With every fraught step, she felt her anger grow, so that when she finally reached the front door, she was ready for a fight.

Before she could even touch the knob, the door lurched open, and Nora was standing there with a severe expression. “Zadie! Where the hell were you?”

Zadie gawked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘Where was I?’ You’re the one who left me there!” She shouldered past her mother into the house.

Nora tailed her into the hallway. “Good one,” she scoffed. “If you’re going to lie to me, maybe don’t use me as your alibi.”

Zadie whipped around to face her mom, body trembling with rage. “What about this, huh?” She held up the back of her fist.

Nora clearly recognized the insignia of the stamp and hesitated. “How’d you get that?”

Zadie didn’t dignify her question with a response. “I can’t believe you just bailed. I had to walk all the way home. Did you not get my texts?”

A look of horror came over her mother’s face. She touched her right hand to her bottom lip like it was bleeding. “I think … I lost my phone.”

“Maybe you left it at the bar with your daughter.”

Nora folded her arms in front of her and shook her head, either in disagreement or disbelief. Zadie couldn’t tell. “No. No, I would have remembered.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I didn’t say that.” Nora dragged the nails of her right hand across her left arm.

“Then what? What do you think happened, Mom?”

“I don’t know, Zadie.” She moved toward her daughter, arms outstretched. “But I’m so—”