Page 51 of A River of Crows
Between the resounding honk and her own memories crashing around in her brain, she didn’t notice her mom until she opened the door.
“Mom, why are we still—” Sloan stopped when she turned and saw her mother. Her face was red and splotchy, with smears of mascara under her eyes. Her hands shook as she fumbled to open a new pack of cigarettes.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, Sloan. I don’t know what’s wrong,” Mom said, still fighting with the cellophane. “Dammit!” she threw the cigarettes against the dash window.
Sloan reached across the vehicle to retrieve the package and unwrap it. “Here you go,” Sloan said, handing her mom a single cigarette.
“Thanks.” Mom’s hands still shook, but she lit it. She took a quick inhale and sunk back in her seat.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Sloan said. “And I’m thirsty.”
“There’s money in my wallet.” Sloan’s mother waved the cigarette toward her. “Get whatever you want. This is all a misunderstanding. It’ll be okay. We’ll be on the road soon,” she said, her voice monotone.
Sloan used the restroom and then took her time wandering the store. She got a drink, a bag of chips, and a Lunchable. It wasn’t often that her mom gave her free rein over her wallet in a store lined with wall-to-wall junk food.
As she stood in the checkout line, Sloan noticed her mom out of the vehicle again, pacing from the commercial ice freezer to the payphone, smoking. She looked like a crazy person.
When Sloan exited the store, her mom had the payphone receiver pressed against her ear. Her eyes were squeezed close, and she was tapping her foot on the concrete. After a minute, she slammed the phone down and cursed.
“Who are you trying to call?” Sloan asked gently.
“It’s a misunderstanding. It’ll be okay. We’ll be on the road soon,” her mom repeated as if in a trance.
“It’s cold, Mom. Come to the car and wait. I got a Lunchable; we can split it.”
“I could call the police,” Caroline said, then shook her head. “No, no, I can’t.”
Sloan put her arm around her mother. “Come on. Let’s get you in the car and warmed up. We’ll call again in fifteen minutes.”
“Sloan! Sloan, wake up! I need more change,” Caroline said, shaking Sloan’s shoulder.
Sloan rubbed her eyes. “I already checked all the seats, Mom. There’s no more change.”
Caroline pulled a ten-dollar bill from her purse. “We won’t have time to stop. We’ll have to drive all day. Go get two more Lunchables. And tell them you want your change in coins. Quarters, nickels, and dimes only. Got it?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“We won’t have time to stop,” her mother repeated. “We’ll have to drive all day. Quarters, nickels, dimes only.”
Sloan noticed a broken bag of ice scattered on the concrete in front of the store. “Mom, did you break that bag?” she asked. When no answer came, Sloan touched her mother’s arm. “The clerk inside asked me about you last time I used the bathroom. I’m worried she might call the police.”
Caroline rubbed her hands over her face. “I can’t believe this happened. How could it happen?” She looked at Sloan as if she had given her daughter any information about how this strange night should have panned out.
“I don’t know, but it’s almost morning. We can figure this out later, but let’s go home, please.”
Caroline’s chin quivered. “Yes. I guess there’s nothing we can do but go home.”
No matter how many times she asked, Mom never explained that bizarre, cigarette and Lunchable-filled night to Sloan. But Sloan realized that whatever had happened—or didn’t happen—at that gas station changed everything. Her strong mom cried uncontrollably, quit eating, and refused to leave the house.
“I told you the grief would get her,” Doreen said. “It’s a sneaky thing that sadness.”
Was that all this was about? Grief? Had her mother broken? Snapped?
Sloan didn’t like keeping secrets from Noah. She wanted to tell him about that day at Leo’s, wanted to tell him about the night at the station, but Mom said anyone they told would be in danger—that the only way she and Sloan would be safe is to forget all about it.
Forget, like that was possible.
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