She didn’t know. She hadn’t told her mother what she’d taken, just what she’d heard. Despite who she had stolen from, she still felt the shame of being a thief, and—even more so—the shame of what she’d seen in the photo.
Her mother began to speak then, quickly and very quietly. She had managed to sneak into Taured’s office one night and call Summer’s grandparents. They’d gone to the bank and put money in Lorraine’s account so she could buy plane tickets. They were going to board a flight to Albuquerque, where they’d be picked up in her grandparents’ minivan. Lorraine told her the rest of the details in a voice that didn’t sound like hers at all.
“What did they say when you spoke to them?”
Lorraine looked at her hands, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“That I was in a cult. That they’d help me.”
Summer frowned considering her mother’s words. A cult? Could that be true? What was a cult, anyway—rules and religion?
“Aren’t they in a cult, too?”
Her mother cracked a smile, her dimple flashing. “You’ll have a hard time convincing them of that.”
They drove in silence the rest of the way. Up front, the cabbie listened to R & B, turning it up when Biggie came on. He didn’t speak except to ask what airline they were flying. When he dropped them at the curb, her mother paid him in twenties, thanking him profusely. Where had she gotten this cash? Summer felt like she didn’t know anything anymore.
“Come on.” Lorraine grabbed her by the wrist and walked her through the doors. Summer trotted alongside her mother until they reached a trash can at the far end of the passenger drop-off area.
“What are you doing, Mama?” She stumbled over her own feet as it dawned on her exactly what she was doing.
Her mother was looking down into her bag when she said: “Sometimes, the key to not being seen is being seen.”
Then, with a flick of her wrist, her mother tossed the gun inside and dusted off her hands. Summer looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Her mother had done it fast enough—hadn’t she?
All around them, the airport was being the airport, an endless hustle of bodies and luggage.
“Let’s go.” Lorraine grabbed her hand this time and led her through the doors, the air-conditioning as violent against her skin as the heat had been moments ago. They fell into step, walking toward the counter, Summer’s heart pattering like a frightened animal. She was as tall as her mother now, her legs longer; she wished they could run instead of walk.
Would he come here? Follow them? The way her mother looked over her shoulder, scanning the faces of the people behind her, told her yes. The man at the ticket counter took his time, his fingers hitting the keys like fat sausages, and then, suddenly, Lorraine had two tickets in her hands. They didn’t speak as they made their way forward, still arm in arm. Her mother’s braid had come loose, and her hair cascaded around her shoulders. When her mother caught her looking toward the bathrooms, she said, “Go. I’ll wait here.”
Summer stood in line for the bathroom, biting her thumbnail. Her mother stood a few feet away, watching the board with the arrivals and departures. The line wasn’t moving very quickly; in front of her, an old lady with glasses was complaining about the terrible facilities to her friend. A toilet flushed; the line moved forward. Summer stood just inside the bathroom doors now. A mother was in line behind her, trying to wrangle her toddler, who was bouncing from foot to foot, saying he was going to pee his pants. When a stall opened, she let the mother go ahead of her.
Summer washed her hands, thinking about her grandparents’ house. Her mother said they had a porch swing facing the sunset. They hadn’t spoken about any of the details yet, but she imagined she’d be allowed to go to a real school. Her mother would get a job, and Summer would see her every day. She felt the start of something sparking in her belly. Excitement? No...maybe hope. Things were about to get better.
Summer dried off her hands and left the bathroom, noticing that the line had doubled since she’d been in it. Her backpack was heavy, and she wanted to sit down and not think about anything. She wanted to sleep. When she walked over to the board where she’d left her mother, a new line of people stood staring up at the screen. She spun on her heels, checking the line of chairs against the wall, and then the bathroom line. Deciding her mother had probably gotten into line behind her and was now in a bathroom stall, Summer took a seat.
The bathroom emptied out three times over. She walked the area twice, scanning every face she passed. She checked the two coffee stands and the ticket counter, where the man with the sausage fingers had helped them. There was no sign of Lorraine. Summer tried to remember the gate number from the tickets. Maybe her mother had gone there. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true; her mother would never leave her, especially not during a time like this. Going back to the board, she searched for the departures to Albuquerque and found that their flight had left ten minutes ago. Summer tried not to cry, but it was all too much. She did another lap of the airport, past the flashing, pinging slot machines, and past tourists in brightly colored shirts, wearing their vacation faces. She could smell coffee and the sweet aroma of baked goods mixed with a man’s cologne.
Where was her mother? This felt like a nightmare within a nightmare, Summer thought, like a Stephen King book she had snuck back from Red’s one time. This felt like when her dad had died and she didn’t know what to do with her hands or face, because nothing made sense. She had no money, no way to make a phone call—and who would she call, anyway? She didn’t even know her grandparents’ phone number. She wandered outside, back to the trash can where her mother had deposited the gun. She stood there for a good few seconds before she noticed the man standing against his car, looking at her. He was casual, arms crossed over his chest, his glasses reflecting the activity of the drop-off. It was Taured.
She sat in the back seat of his car, the BMW she’d stolen the photos from. Her mother sat beside her, pale, her hair tangled and her lip swollen. When Taured pushed Summer into the back seat of the car, Lorraine had looked at her daughter with scared, wet eyes, but didn’t say anything. Summer quietly folded herself into the seat, eyeing the police officer who was watching traffic a few yards away. Could she jump out and run to him? Would Taured drive away with her mother if she did? Would he be arrested? She looked at her mother, who was breathing nosily from the seat beside her. She was hurt. Then the car was moving, and it was too late to do anything. Summer reached across the leather seat to hold her mother’s hand.
They grabbed her by the arms, fingers digging into her thin flesh as they pulled her from the back seat of the car. She didn’t cry out in shock or pain but kept her posture rigid as she watched them do the same to her mother. They dragged her through the prison kitchens and toward the courtyard outside. The courtyard was an eight-by-ten concrete block, fenced in on three sides. It had a drain in the center and a waterspout low on the wall. It stood to the side of the prison and ran along a steep gully. Someone had told her that they slaughtered the livestock there.