"The girls would like to go live with Mina for awhile," Mom said. "For the summer, and perhaps longer."
Dad's mouth trembled like he might actually start to cry. I had never seen him cry, and in spite of everything, I felt bad that Jessica and I were hurting his feelings. But then he said, "Perhaps that would be for the best. The situation here has become untenable."
Jessica and I exchanged looks of amazement.
"I'd rather the girls lived with Mina than with you," he added nastily, glaring at Mom.
"None of this is Mom's fault, Dad," I said.
Dad looked at me with a solemn expression. "I know you won't believe this, but I did all this for you."
"That's crap, Dad," Jessica said. "You did it because you could."
He shook his head as if trying to block out her words. Then he rounded on Mom. "And what about you, Judy? I hope you don't think you're going to freeload here with me when the kids are gone."
Mom stared at him. Then she laughed and laughed.
#
I've been working at Mina's bookstore this summer. Jessica finally got to cut her hair short and dye it purple (though she might have to dye it back when school starts, and she has to hide it under a pink-and-white hat at her ice cream parlor summer job). Mom waitresses at a local cafe. Many of the other moms moved to Santa Cruz too--mostly the ones whose kids opted to stay with their dads or to go live with their biological moms or other family. Tom still lives in Ramseyville with his dad, but he visits Jessica often. Mom rents a small house with Tom's mom, Lucy Jensen's mom, and Annie Powell.
Soon after we got settled in Santa Cruz, Mr. Ivers tried to shoot Mrs. Ivers with a handgun, but he was drunk and missed. Then he turned the gun on himself, or, at least, that's what the newspapers said. Cecilia doesn't like to talk about it. She and Mrs. Ivers moved to Santa Cruz too when the furor died down.
Jessica and I haven't visited Dad since we moved, though we talk on the phone. He's thinking of getting transferred to another branch of his office, in Phoenix. A lot of people have been leaving Ramseyville, especially after what happened with Mr. Ivers. Tom says Dad's having an affair with his secretary. Maybe he already was, before all of this started.
Mina's place is kind of close quarters with me and Jessica here. We've been looking at apartments. We want to be all moved in before school starts in the fall. It'll be weird to make new friends who have regular, flesh-and-blood moms. Then again, we have Mina, but she's more like a friend than a mom. She hasn't figured out how much she should lay down the law with us yet (like when Jessica stays out late with Tom). Mina doesn't like punk rock any more than Dad did, though she at least tries to listen. She's into Joni Mitchell, which makes Jessica groan, though I secretly like some of her songs.
It's nice to be near the water instead of in landlocked Ramseyville. It's still all such a big change, though. I have nightmares about Dad taking Mom apart, arms and legs scattered everywhere, and the moms shooting the dads, and other scary stuff. Mina says that's understandable.
Mom loves to visit the bookstore. This afternoon Mina was teaching me how to work the cash register while harpsichord music played on the radio, and Mom came in with Mrs. Ivers and Mrs. Jensen. Seeing I was busy, Mom just smiled and waved at me, and the three of them wandered off to browse. The usually laid-back bookstore cat let out a yowl and jumped up onto the counter.
"I know what you mean, JoJo," Mina murmured, stroking him. She smiled wryly at me. "I do like them, you know," she said under her breath. "They're just...disconcerting."
Mom and her friends stood in front of the Poetry section, deep in conversation about some paperback. The bearded guy who'd just bought a bunch of mysteries turned to ogle Mrs. Ivers, auburn hair flowing down her back.
The mothers seemed to feel eyes on them. As one, they turned and leveled a stare at him, and my breath caught. Clutching his paper bag, the guy walked out the door, and the women returned to their conversation. Mom's hair was still just as short as the day she'd lopped it off. Mrs. Jensen had a few splotches of paint, red and purple and orange, on her t-shirt and jeans, and I remembered what Lucy Jensen had said about her painting a mural of the moms on their kitchen wall. I wondered whether the mural was still there, back in Ramseyville. Probably Mr. Jensen had painted over it. That was okay. The mothers looked happy. They looked so alive. In their quiet way, they looked so punk rock--though if you didn't know what they were, they must have seemed like ordinary middle-aged women.
___
Copyright 2020 Gwynne Garfinkle
Gwynne Garfinkle lives in Los Angeles. Her collection of short fiction and poetry, People Change, was published in 2018 by Aqueduct Press. Her work has appeared in such publications as Strange Horizons, Uncanny, Apex, Not One of Us, and Lackington's.
Giganotosaurus is published monthly by Late Cretaceous and edited by LaShawn M. Wanak.
http://giganotosaurus.org
A Wild Patience Page 4