Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Other Titles
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Friday
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- Saturday
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Sunday
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Monday
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The girl is driving now, although she seems tense, her hands clutching the steering thing very close to the top, the way they teach you to do when you first learn how to drive. Does the girl even have a driver’s licence? Kate suddenly feels very impotent and weak. She wraps her arms around herself, then gasps at the stabbing pain. She remembers now that her ribs are broken; how she broke them is quite hazy, although she knows she didn’t just break them raking the yard or falling down a flight of stairs. Her broken ribs are somehow the source of this strange lightness in her body. If this were a movie, she would somehow be able to transmit this lightness to the girl, who looks like she might break down any minute and cry. Where is her mother? Does she know where they are? Where are they?
They stop to get gas. Neither of them knows where the lever is to open the tank. “Isn’t this your car?” the girl asks, exasperated. Eventually they find it, where it has always been. The girl uses Kate’s money card to fill up, then buys them licorice, Cokes, and gum in the store. Don’t I have to sign for this? Is she signing for me? When Kate asks the girl, she just stares at her like she’s stupid. “You have a PIN code, remember, Nana?” Kate is sure she does remember, but right now she has no idea what a PIN code is. She tells the girl she is all right to drive, and the girl seems relieved. Driving is one thing Kate can still do well, her earlier mishap notwithstanding. And it has always been her refuge. All those times during the early years of their marriage when everything seemed too much to handle, when it all felt so out of control, she would just get in her car and drive. To Geraldton, to Wawa, to Hearst, all those tiny outposts along deserted highways, or across the border into Manitoba, or Minnesota, or Wisconsin. Stopping to eat, sleeping in her car. Thinking, or not thinking, about anything but the road. Never planning to drive to any specific destination. Just driving.
Driving is all she has. If she can’t drive, she might as well die.