Red glowered at her. “I’m not having a cow!”
“A friend needs me to stop by real quick,” Wanda said. “Don’t sigh like that, Red. I’ll be quick. And we won’t miss the movie. Maybe the previews, but that’s it.”
Red squeezed her fists tighter. “Why can’t you go later?”
“I said it would be quick, okay?” Wanda snapped.
“Okay.”
The silence felt papery and dangerous, like a hornets’ nest. Red was afraid to poke too hard.
Outside, the clouds began to darken.
The car bumped down Colfax Avenue, which had so many potholes in the winter that it was impossible to avoid them. Strings of bright plastic beads dangling from the rearview mirror clacked against the windshield. Wanda clicked a lighter into flame under a cigarette that wobbled between her lips.
She caught Red looking. “What?”
Red shrugged.
“I smoke, Red. It’s a bad habit—whatever. If you’re gonna hang out with me in my car,” she emphasized, as if Red had a choice, “do me a favor and don’t judge.”
“I wasn’t!”
Wanda cracked the window and blew smoke into the sky. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, eager for the light to change to green.
How had this day suddenly gone so wrong? The last time the two of them were together, they’d had fun. They’d laughed and talked about Wanda’s job and her classes. It felt like they were friends.
Red wanted that feeling back.
“How are your classes going?” she asked.
Wanda shrugged, tapped her cigarette through the cracked window. The air roared as they picked up speed.
“How’s work?” she tried next.
Her mom rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Red.”
They turned down a narrow street and pulled to a stop in front of a brick apartment building. There was a plastic bag caught in the bare branches of the bushes lining the apartment wall, and a pair of shoes hanging by their laces swayed and bounced from the power lines.
“I’ll be quick,” Wanda said, putting the car in park.
Red didn’t want to stay in the cloud of cigarette smoke. “Can I come?”
Wanda stiffened, then smiled warmly. “Baby, it’ll just be a minute. You’re a big girl. You can stay here for a few minutes, right?”
Red wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Wanda’s long hair and tie it to the steering wheel. She wanted to go to a movie and pretend everything was okay.
She did not want to be left alone in a car with trash under her feet and cigarette smoke burning her eyes.
But Wanda didn’t wait for an answer. She gave Red another false, bright smile, said, “Good girl. Be back soon!” and slipped out of the car, taking the keys with her. The car alarm chirped a high-pitched whoop whoop as she disappeared around the corner of the building.
Chapter
49
The cooling engine clicked and popped. Traffic whizzed down the busy street, and Red could hear muffled shouting from somewhere in the building. The pulse of a bass line blared from behind another closed window.
Even though the air inside the car was cool, sweat prickled along the back of her neck. The numbers on a small dashboard clock marched on in their steady, slow parade. She closed her eyes, ignoring their progress. A gust of wind rocked the car, startling her.
No. She wouldn’t let the wind get out of control. Not anymore.
She took a deep breath and focused on making her wind good. Fingers tingling, she directed a steady stream of air toward a piece of paper on the floor near her feet. It shuddered and scooted away. Frowning, she concentrated. The paper flipped once, twice. Suddenly, it blew back, flattening against the floorboard. It was no use. Red growled and crossed her arms.
A man wearing a stained dark green coat walked by. His eyes were yellow where they were supposed to be white, and he moved like he was made of mismatched gears and loose parts. She looked away when he caught her eye.
She watched the clock, but could feel the man watching her.
Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Her stomach cramped a sharp, stabbing cramp. She tried to curl up in the seat, but it was a little too small to be comfortable. The sun was making her head ache, too.
Twenty minutes.
She unbuckled her seat belt and turned around, peering through the back windshield. No sign of Wanda. The man in the green coat was sitting on a low brick wall by the front entrance to the building, rolling some kind of cigarette. He looked up at her and smiled.
She ducked down in her seat, angling herself so she could see his reflection in the side mirror. He looked toward the car for another few seconds, then back to his cigarette.
Twenty-two minutes.
How could her mom do this to her? They were supposed to be at the movie already, but there was still no sign of Wanda. A shiver of wind rose from her skin like heat. There was no turning this gust into anything gentle or good. The air circled through the car, rustling papers and crinkling garbage. Red squeezed her eyes shut, took a slow breath, but another stab of pain in her stomach sent more wind spinning from her.
An envelope plastered itself to her face. She yanked it off and glared at it. It was addressed to her mom and had bright red letters across the front that said, Overdue Notice. More papers whipped into the air, and she let out a frustrated growl.
A knock on the window made her yelp. She shoved the envelope into her pocket in a panic. The man was bending low, peering at her through the glass.
“You okay in there?” His voice was muffled, and his hooded eyes took in the twirling papers.
“I’m fine!” she said.
He stared at her, and Red held her breath, trying to rein in the storm. Finally, he shrugged and ambled away, taking a long drag on his cigarette. Tears of relief flooded her vision, quickly followed by resurgent anger. Where was her mother? She started to climb into the back seat so she could see the building’s entrance better.
“Ouch!” She yanked her hand back. A line of blood oozed across the bottom of her palm. She examined the spot where she’d put her hand and saw a glimmer of metal. Carefully, she moved aside an old T-shirt and some papers. A crumpled soda can was on the seat, its sharp, torn edge catching sunlight.
The wound stung. She pressed her hands together and looked at the clock again. Wanda had been gone for fifty minutes. A quick search of the storage pockets in both doors for a clean tissue or napkin proved fruitless. Pulling open the glove box, she pawed through receipts and half-empty cigarette boxes. Her fingers closed around something small and plastic and familiar. She froze, a numbing disbelief flooding her, and pulled out a baggie of white pills.
No.
Her mom wouldn’t do that. Not again. She was getting better! She wanted Red back. No. No. No.
Rage and frustration boiled over like lava and she kicked the glove box closed. A storm cloud of swirling papers rustled around her, but she didn’t care. She stared at the baggie, then crushed it in her fist. How could her mother do this to her? She’d promised! Didn’t she know Red needed her? Really needed her? Her court date was just three weeks away. Celine’s surgery was soon after that.
“This is stupid.”
A piercing alarm sliced the air when she opened her door. She clambered out of the car and slammed the door, moving away from it before anyone could see her. The man in the green coat was gone, at least.
The lobby of the apartment building smelled like garbage. It was a long, bare room with stained linoleum flooring, yellowing walls, and a single, graffitied elevator. A door opposite the entry was marked STAIRS. Alarms louder than the continuing squeal of Wanda’s car rang in Red’s head.
“No way,” she said, shaking her head at the dim stairwell. She’d seen places like this before, and she wasn’t about to start wandering around the halls.
With the wind cold on her face, she marched down the sidewalk, glowering at the few people she passed. Walking loosened the cramping in her
stomach, but she still felt nauseated. Finally, she found a gas station. Ignoring the clerk, she made a beeline for the bathroom. It smelled like sewage and gasoline.
She ran her hand under water. Blood swirled in pink whirlpools down the drain. Once she had cleaned herself up, she stood and gazed at her reflection. She looked and felt like a used tissue. The mirror tilted a little to one side as a wave of dizziness crashed into her. She leaned over the sink and gagged, but nothing came up.
What was wrong with her?
Suddenly, she remembered she had to pee. She pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet.
Panic brought a gust of wind from her that was so fierce the door rattled.
There was more blood. It had stained her underwear and soaked the crotch of her pants.
Trembling, she reached for the toilet paper dispenser, only to find it empty. A little sob escaped her throat, and more wind shook the door.
I have to calm down. She couldn’t lose control of her storms. Not in a gas station bathroom. She took a slow breath, counting backward from ten.
It’s just my period. She knew about periods. One of the group homes she’d stayed in once had had a poster about the menstrual cycle on the bathroom wall, and the house mother had made a big deal about showing all the girls where pads and tampons were stored.
Back then, getting her period seemed like something that was way too far in the future to worry about. She was just a kid. But now she was almost twelve. She was growing up. Whether she was ready to or not.
But Red had felt like a grown-up for too long already. She was tired of it. All she wanted was to be a regular kid going to the movies with her mom. She didn’t want a period. She didn’t want to find pills in her mom’s glovebox. She didn’t want secrets and excuses and broken promises.
She repeated her breathing exercise two more times, until her wind stopped rattling the door and she didn’t feel as panicked. Breathing hadn’t relieved her cramping stomach or the urge to cry, though.
She opened a little cabinet by the toilet, but it didn’t have any toilet paper, only cleaning supplies that obviously hadn’t been used recently. Sniffling, she grabbed a wad of paper towels instead.
Nothing about this day was going right.
Suddenly, she wanted Celine. Celine would know what to do, what to say. She wouldn’t embarrass Red or make her talk about things she didn’t want to talk about. Red wanted to go home and let Celine make her hot chocolate so she could forget about all of this.
But Celine wasn’t home. Her mother was.
Wasn’t she?
Red washed her hands again, and stared at her reflection in the dirty mirror. Mom is my home, she thought, over and over. She is, she is, she is.
She had to be.
Chapter
50
The gas station clerk was a pimply-faced teenager with shoulder-length dishwater-blond hair and thick black plugs in his earlobes. His faded T-shirt was covered by a flimsy red vest with stains under the armpits.
“You okay, kid?”
She wished people would stop asking her that.
Still, she didn’t need him calling the police to report a bloody kid in his store, so she smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m okay. Do you have a Band-Aid? I cut my hand.” She held up her palm to show him the wound.
He was easily satisfied, the worried look in his eyes switching back to the autopilot of boredom. “Sure.”
She secured two strips across the cut and crumpled the wrappers. He watched her and raised a questioning eyebrow when she didn’t move.
“Need to call someone or something?”
Chewing her lip, she stared at the phone on the counter. Its beige handle was gray with grime and there was a blackened piece of chewing gum stuck to the lower corner.
Don’t be a baby, she told herself. She didn’t need Celine to come save her. She was fine.
She was.
Sniffling, she shook her head. “No thanks.” She hurried from the store and out into the cold air. The sun had been buried by ash-gray clouds that churned restlessly in the sky. The temperature had dropped by several degrees, too. Red ignored the weather and walked, head down, in the direction of her mother’s car.
Calling Celine would only get her mom in trouble, anyway. She didn’t want that. Even though Wanda had left her alone in the car for almost an hour. Even though they’d missed the movie. Even though she’d found a baggie with pills …
Back when Red was little, Gamma used to say, Don’t jump to conclusions.
When Wanda’s mood swings got so wild that she’d sometimes be up for days at a time, Gamma said, Don’t jump to conclusions.
When Gamma’s own medications started disappearing from their bottles like water down a drain, she said, Don’t jump to conclusions.
It wasn’t until Wanda got arrested the first time, and Red found Gamma crying over a basket of laundry, that Gamma said, I should have jumped, Red. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad if I’d let myself jump to conclusions.
Red wondered what Gamma would say now. Would she warn Red not to jump to conclusions? Or would she say the baggie was exactly what Red was afraid of?
No. Mom promised. The thought was the safety railing on a rickety carnival ride, and she clung to it with everything she had.
She shivered. Her jacket was tied around her waist to cover the bloodstain on her jeans. She’d examined herself from every angle in the bathroom mirror and didn’t think the spot could be seen, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Her thin sweater wasn’t exactly warm, so she moved quickly, almost jogging. Her stomach cramped and she hoped the wad of paper towels in her underwear wouldn’t slip down her pant leg.
Plastic crinkled in her jean pocket. Instead of throwing the pills down the toilet, like she’d wanted to, Red had decided to keep them. She would ask her mother about them. Give her a chance to explain. They were probably a mistake. Maybe they were just aspirin.
Rounding the corner, she saw Wanda leaning against the hood of her now-quiet car, her phone pressed to her ear. Her mother’s back was to her as she approached, her cascade of dark hair hanging thick and heavy. At the sound of Red’s slapping footsteps, Wanda turned. Her face sagged with relief and she hung up the phone.
“Oh my God, Red. Where were you?”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Sorry? I almost called the police!” Wanda threw her phone through the open car window. It bounced off the seat and clattered onto the floor. “I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes looking for you! Do you know what would have happened if I’d called the cops?”
Red felt hot and cold all at once. She hugged her stomach and shook her head.
“Take a guess! How would it look if I lost my kid during one of these unsupervised visits, huh? I guarantee you, these would be over. For good. Is that what you want?”
Red’s heart broke. A cavern, dark and deep, opened up between its pieces. “No.”
When Wanda spoke again, her voice was softer, though still brittle. “Are you okay?”
Red’s hand stung and her stomach ached. Her cheeks were raw with cold, and there was a dull throbbing in the back of her head. But the worst pain had nothing to do with her body.
“Where did you go?” Red whispered.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Where did you go? You were gone forever! We missed the movie!”
Shame tripped across Wanda’s face so fast Red almost didn’t see it. “I told you, a friend needed my help.”
“You said it would be a few minutes. I waited for an hour!” Air rippled from her body, fevered and frenzied. She didn’t even try to pull it back.
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby, Red. I wasn’t gone that long.”
Red stomped forward and pulled the plastic baggie out of her pocket. She held it up between them. “I’m. Not. A. Baby. Babies don’t know when their moms are lying.”
Wanda’s brown eyes widened and her cheeks flushed scarle
t. “Where did you—” She stopped, her lips clamping together. Taking a step back, she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Anger seethed from Red, and Wanda was almost knocked off-balance as it gusted. “I’m not stupid, Mom.”
Wanda reached for the baggie. “Red, I—”
Red dropped her arm, closing the baggie in her fist again, and glared. “Mom.”
“It’s nothing, Red! It’s not what you think.” Her gaze flicked between Red’s fist and face. “It’s just for my migraines. You know I get migraines. I need them for that. That’s all.”
“I need you, Mom.” As soon as the words were out, the anger that had been coursing through Red’s body vanished. She suddenly felt as fragile as fresh snow. With one step, Wanda could flatten her.
Her mother stared at her, her face hard and unreadable. Then the current shifted between them, wrapping them both in warm tendrils of air. Red felt it against her cheek, gentle. Like before. Tears filled her eyes.
Wanda stepped closer. “You’re right, baby. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She opened her arms. Red hesitated, and then fell into them. With her chin pressed against the top of Red’s head, Wanda whispered, “I keep messing this up.”
Pulling back, Wanda tucked Red’s hair behind her ear. Her eyes gleamed with tears and she shook her head. “This feels impossible.”
Red wasn’t sure if she meant beating her addiction or taking care of her daughter. She opened her palm. They both stared at the crumpled baggie. With her other hand, the one with the bloodstained Band-Aids, Red hooked her mom’s fingers.
“It’s like Gamma used to say. It always seems impossible…” she said, then waited.
Wanda let out a little breath and closed her eyes. “Until it’s done,” she whispered.
Finally, Wanda took the baggie and walked it to a trash can by the side of the apartment building, her other hand still holding on to Red’s.
Dying of a broken heart
People say it’s impossible to die from a broken heart. They say we never get more than we can handle and that pain always heals.
All the Impossible Things Page 18