I say, “Why should we be the ones to leave when he’s the one who wants out?”
“Because I need to get away from Mary Grove and your father and this house. Just to clear my head for a while.”
“Well, Saz and I are going on our road trip. So I don’t need to go to an island to get out of his way because I’ll be gone.”
“Claude.”
“Mom.” And I know what she’s going to say.
“The road trip will unfortunately have to wait. I promise you can do it at some point, but right now…just for a few weeks…” She shakes her head and her eyes are suddenly wet. “Honey, right now I need you to come with me.”
Divorce Island is a national seashore or a state park or something. In addition to alligators and wild horses, it is filled with ruins and family history. For almost five weeks—exactly thirty-five days—we will be staying in a house belonging to Mom’s cousin Addy. Mom was there for Addy when she got divorced and when her son drowned in a rip current the summer he was twelve. Now it’s Addy’s turn to be there for us.
The cat will go with us and the dog will stay with my dad. Even our pets are separating.
* * *
—
On Friday afternoon, my dad’s parents arrive from Pennsylvania. I wait for him to tell them about his fractured marriage and the fact that he’s sending their daughter-in-law and their only grandchild away as soon as I have my diploma, but instead no one says anything and my dad spends all day in the kitchen creating one of his meals—tournedos of beef with braised asparagus and a four-cheese mac and cheese he makes from scratch.
While he does this, my grandparents take turns standing in the kitchen doorway, where Mom marks their heights. This is a tradition my mom started when we first moved in—measuring everyone, kids and adults, writing names and dates beside each mark. Even Dandelion the cat and Bradbury the dog are on there.
The entire time all this is happening, I can feel the words forming, sitting there on the tip of my tongue. He doesn’t want us anymore. But my dad has told me not to talk about it, and besides, he is home for dinner, so we all eat together, a happy family.
“I’m sorry your folks couldn’t come,” my grandmother says to my mom at the table.
“Me too.” Apparently Mom has told her parents and sister enough about the separation that they’re angry with my father and don’t want to see him. They’re so angry they’re skipping my graduation, and frankly I don’t blame them. I’d skip it myself if I could.
“Neil tells us you’re working in Georgia this summer.”
“That’s right. I have the chance to organize the papers of the Blackwood heirs, some of my ancestors.”
“The Blackwoods, as in the Samuel Blackwood?”
Mom nods. “In the 1920s, he built a home off the coast for his only son. I’m thinking there might be a novel there.” Her voice is cool and calm.
Gran’s eyes are dancing. “How exciting.” My grandmother is Mom’s most avid reader and biggest fan. “Can you say anything or is it too soon? You know what? Don’t tell me.” She holds up a hand. “I don’t want you to give anything away, but just know if you need an early reader, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Maggie.”
Gran looks at me. “And you’re going to help her?”
I stop picking at my food and set my fork down. And then I realize I have nothing to say. Mom answers for me, no doubt so I don’t have to lie to my own grandmother. “She’s my best research assistant.”
Gran turns to my father. “What on earth are you going to do without them, Neil? I hope you’ll at least go down there for a little while.”
I wait for him to tell her this was his idea, that he can’t wait to have us gone, but instead he glances at Mom, at me, and says, “I’ll have to get along somehow.” He glances at us again and I can see the guilt in his eyes. You can still stop this. You can change your mind and we will stay and none of this needs to happen. He looks away, down at his food.
I almost say something right then. I feel like a person being held against her will, like a hostage or a kidnap victim, and all I want to do