stunned into silence. I stood up and rested my forehead against my window. The glass was cold, though the sun was still shining. Melting ice dripped from the windowsills of the higher floors. Seven stories down, people got off a bus and trudged back up to the dorm’s front door. They wore heavy coats and backpacks and, I imagined, the self-satisfied expressions of people who had made it to class and completed their lab work on time.
“She’s lost her mind,” Elise finally said. She sounded sad, or maybe just tired. “I knew she was bad. I understand she’s having some…midlife, middle-aged crisis. But that’s completely unacceptable. You’re her daughter. You needed her help.”
I nodded. I felt a little better with this shared indignation. But not much.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to call her?”
“No.”
“Veronica.” The sympathy had left her voice. “Something is wrong with her. This isn’t how she normally acts.”
“Maybe she’s got a new boyfriend,” I said. “Maybe this one is only twenty.”
“Stop.”
I frowned. I’d liked it better when it was me Elise was worried about. “You call her,” I said.
“I’m going to.” Her voice changed again, her words quick and succinct. Now she sounded more like our father. “Believe me. I’m going to give her hell.”
After I hung up, I lay down on my bed for what I told myself would be just a moment, a quick rest for my eyes. And then I would call Tim. It would be difficult to tell him over the phone what had happened. I might not tell him until he got home. I only wanted to talk with him. It would be nice just to hear his voice.
But as soon as I closed my eyes, I slept. And I dreamed about my mother. I think I dreamed of her for some time, though only a series of flashes stayed in my memory: her face in profile, resigned, sitting in the passenger seat of her van. I knew it was her van. I was sitting in the back, behind the driver’s seat, and I could clearly see her face. But when I looked out the window, I saw how very high up we were, and all at once, I simply evaporated. She was in the passenger seat of a semi, and there was no backseat, nowhere for me to sit.
Jimmy Liff was surprisingly calm when I told him about the car. “Yeah, well, shit happens,” he said. “It was the ice, right? Our flight was fucking delayed forever.”
I shifted the phone to my other ear. He must not have heard me correctly. I had been scared to call.
“I had to have it towed,” I said, though I had already told him this. I wanted him to understand that more than the fender had been damaged. “My dad’s insurance will cover the repair, though. He’s pretty sure it will.”
Silence. I waited. My room was gray, almost dark, but outside, a sliver of the western sky was orange and pink, bright with the setting sun. It was almost six, and I was still wearing my robe. I had slept through lunch and dinner.
“Do you want the number for the garage?” I asked. “They said they would get to it sometime next week, but—”
“Yeah. We can deal with all that later.” He sounded bored, or at least distracted. “We’ll take a cab back from the airport on Sunday. Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re okay.”
I was too surprised to speak. Jimmy Liff could give my mother a lesson in post-accident etiquette. I never would have guessed.
“But you’ve got to get over there to mist the plants.” Now he sounded anxious. “Okay? I really don’t want them to die.”
Gretchen volunteered to drive me over, and she let me know from the start she wasn’t going to just drop me off. She didn’t think I should be alone; the truck driver story had creeped her out. “I don’t care what you say,” she said. “You’re not going to study tonight.” She was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a kitten with enormous blue eyes that curiously resembled her. “I have a box of mac and cheese in my room. I’ll bring it. I’ll make you dinner.” She pursed her lips. “You look really wound up, Veronica. Even for you, I mean.”
I didn’t argue. I needed the ride. And she was right: I was rattled. I kept thinking of the exact moment I’d lost control of the