around him, my right arm under his chin. I would get dog hair on my coat, I knew. And he smelled so bad that I had to take shallow breaths through my mouth. But he was also deaf, oblivious to Jimmy, and I was comforted by his presence, and his long, contented sigh.
“She wrecked your car because of an ice storm.” My mother glanced in her rearview mirror. “It happens.”
“Uh-huh.” I could tell by Jimmy’s voice that he was leaning back, farther away. “And trashing my house with a party? That just happens? I see where she gets her morals. Shit’s missing, okay? Like three hundred dollars’ worth of music. Does that just happen, too?”
My mother glanced at me. I was still sunk down below the headrest, so I felt safe to shake my head a little back and forth.
“You’ll probably just have to get over that.” She turned onto the main road that would lead us out to the town house. She’d always had a good memory for directions. “You know? Chalk it up to poor judgment from all of you? Life isn’t fair, Jimmy. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and move on.”
I held my breath and watched the rain, the puddles in potholes bubbling.
“Wow. That’s so Zen of you, Mom.” His words were clipped. “Great. Now we know where you stand. How about this—I’ll invite some of my friends over to your house. We’ll see how you get over it.” He leaned forward. I felt the pull of one of his hands on my seat. “I can find out where you live.”
She glanced up in the rearview mirror and smiled. “You’re going to have your work cut out for you there.”
Of course he didn’t understand, even with all the furniture and junk in the back.
“Don’t be so sure,” he said. “I know a lot of people. I know people who know their way around gates and intercoms. I can find out where you live in a day.”
She turned another corner and glanced at me, still grinning, her eyes wide, her eyebrows raised. “Okay. Well. When you find out, let me know!” There was a long silence. Unbelievably, stupidly, I laughed.
“Oh. You think this is funny?”
I stopped laughing. My mother squinted at the windshield, her head cocked, as if she were really considering the question. “Not this,” she said. “Not this specifically. It’s not funny. But other things are.”
I sat very still, waiting, trying to remember what I had learned in the self-defense unit in high school gym. If he came after me, reaching around my seat, or if he went after her, I would bury my dorm key in between my fingers and hit him as hard as I could. I would go right for the bolt in his nose, or, more precisely, the tender pink skin all around it. I would put Bowzer on the floor mat, holding him safely between my feet, and use my elbow like a lance.
“This is fucking bullshit. You know what?” His knee dug into the seat again, just behind my spine. “I’m done with this. I tried to be nice, but now I’m done. My car will be ready by Friday. Until then, I’ll just call a cab.” He leaned forward, looking at me. “And you can pay for it. You. Not me.”
“She doesn’t have any money.” My mother leaned forward and wiped the mist off the windshield with the back of her glove. She had the defrost on high, but all the talking, and Bowzer’s steady panting, had fogged up the windows. “See?” She gestured behind her, to the back of the van. “I don’t have any money either. This is a blood from a turnip situation, Jimmy. I don’t know if it’s fair or not, but that’s the way it is.”
He yelled some more. He moved around a lot in the backseat. My mother watched him warily in her mirror, as if he were a sack of groceries she worried would overturn. But we were almost there. We were driving alongside the golf course now, rain falling hard on the soggy grass, all the gentle slopes deserted. Haylie rode with her face completely turned to her window. And Bowzer rode calmly on my lap, protected by old ears and senility, blissfully unaware.
We pulled into the driveway. Before the van had even stopped, Jimmy started pulling on the door.
“Let me out,” he said. “Let me out of this fucking stinking car.”