I nodded, not saying anything as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I’d finally turned off the ringer after logging calls from my dad, Riley, and Deb in the first twenty minutes we’d been on the road. It was either ironic, hilarious, or both to be dodging other people’s calls in favor of talking to my mother. But nothing made sense anymore.
As we kept driving, the highway gave way to two-lane roads, the trees going from big oaks to scrubby coastal pines. I kept thinking of those old road trips we’d taken together, in Super Shitty, when it was newer and her car. She did the driving while I ran the radio and kept tabs on our drinks, making sure we had ample coffee or Diet Coke as needed. Sometimes we splurged on magazines, which I’d then read aloud, educating us on makeup and diet tips when the radio stations got fewer and farther between. Now, in Peter’s huge car/truck/ space station, we had a built-in cooler packed with refreshments and satellite radio with over three hundred stations to choose from and not a single gap in signal. Not to mention company, in the form of two toddlers. The landscape was about the only thing that hadn’t changed.
I’d been dreading the trip for any number of reasons, but especially due to the fact that I’d be stuck with my mom for four straight hours of driving with no escape from conversation. She surprised me, though, by being as content as I was with long periods of silence. I started to get self-conscious about it, after a while.
“I’m sorry I’m not talking much,” I told her when we were about an hour and a half away. “I think I’m just really tired.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” she said. “To be honest, I’m exhausted myself. And with these two, I don’t get a lot of quiet. This is . . .” She glanced over at me. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” I said as my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, ignoring the screen, and turned it fully off before sliding it back into my pocket. “It is.”
It was just getting dark when we drove over the bridge to Colby, the sound spread out vast and dark beneath us. By then, the twins were up and crabby, and we’d had to put on Elmo doing covers of Beatles songs—a torture that was a first to me—in order to keep them from totally mutinying.
“Mclean,” my mom said, reaching behind her to pull up the diaper bag, which was huge and overflowing with wipes, Huggies, and various other supplies, “would you mind finding them a snack in here? We’ll be there in ten minutes or so, but food might hold off a full-on nuclear meltdown.”
“Sure,” I said, digging around until I found a bag packed with the familiar little fish-shaped crackers. I opened it up, then turned around in my seat to face the twins. “You guys hungry?”
“Fish!” Connor yelled, pointing at the bag.
“That’s right,” I said, taking out a few and handing them to him. Madison, who was sucking on a Sippy Cup, stuck out her hand, as well, and I gave her an equal portion. “Dinner of champions.”
My mom put on her turn signal, taking a left onto the road that stretched down the center of the town proper. I didn’t remember much about Colby itself, other than that the last time I’d been here it had seemed newer than North Reddemane, full of partially built houses, building permits everywhere. Now, years later, it looked much more established, with all the things you’d expect to find in a typical beach town: surf shops, clothing stores, hotels, and bike-rental places. As we drove past the boardwalk and kept going, the lots and houses got bigger, then bigger still, switching from duplexes and boxy weekend places to vast structures painted bright colors, swimming pools stretched out in front of them. The twins were whining in tandem, Elmo singing, “Baby, you can drive my car,” in full-on pip-squeak mode, when my mom turned into a driveway, pulled up to the wide front steps of a foamgreen house, and parked.
“Here we are!” she said, looking back at the twins. “See? It’s the beach house.”
I saw. In fact, I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. “Mom,” I said as she pulled out her keys from the ignition, pushing the door open. “Wow.”
“It’s not as big as it looks,” she said, getting out. Behind me, Madison let out a wail, competing with Elmo in pitch. “I swear.”
I just sat there, staring up at this huge, green mansion rising in front of me. There were columns, three stories, a lowerlevel garage, and, visible="3"“rough the high glass windows over the front door, a vast ocean view, stretching as far as you could see.
“Mama, I’m hungry,” Connor whined, as my mom unbuckled his car seat. “I want mac and cheese!”
“Mac and cheese! ” Madison seconded, waving her Sippy Cup.
“Okay, okay,” my mom told them. “Just let us get inside.”
She hitched Connor onto her hip, then came around to the other side of the car, taking out Maddie, as well, and planting her on the other side. After strapping on both the diaper bag and her purse, she started up the front steps, looking like a Sherpa scaling Everest.