BY THE TIME they crossed the border into Louisiana, Andrew started to feel like they’d live out the rest of their lives in the backseat of this car. There was no way to really get comfortable. He and Grace tried opening the windows and sticking their feet out in the open air, tried taking turns lying down, but no matter what, every position felt awkward.
Thanks to some unspoken mutual agreement, they didn’t talk about the pictures Grace had taped up around her seat—especially not the picture of their mother that Andrew didn’t remember ever having seen before. Instead, he let Grace lay her head in his lap and told her what was going on outside the window.
“This is so weird. There’s a guy on a skateboard pushing a guy in a wheelchair right now, and they’re, like, flying down the street.”
“Mmm . . . what’s the guy in the wheelchair like?”
“White guy, scraggly beard, Hawaiian shirt.”
Ama had been in a wheelchair once, back when she’d sprained her ankle chasing their dog Lady down the stairs. Would he ever see her again?
Andrew turned to Grace. “What’s Ama’s name?”
“Isn’t it Ama?”
“No, that’s what she is, an ama. It’s like a nanny.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You’ve basically been calling her ‘caretaker’ all your life.”
“Well, you have, too!”
“I know. It’s terrible. We’re terrible people. Dad—what’s Ama’s name?”
Their father looked at them in the rearview mirror. “Why do you wonder?”
“Because she’s a person, Dad!”
“Okay, Gracie, okay . . .” Charles thought hard. What was Ama’s name? It was lost somewhere in the past, when Ama was pretty and young and she carried him everywhere on her back. “I think she was from Lu family, and then she have to come live with us, come take care of your baba. Maybe she tell Jiejie?”
Grace was doubtful. “Why would Saina know if we don’t?”
“Let’s call,” said Andrew.
“I want to call.”
“We’ll conference. If she picks up.”
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“I was just about to call you guys,” said Saina.
“We have a family dispute to resolve.”
Grace kicked him and waved her cell phone in his face. “Wait, I’m being abused. What are you supposed to do when you’re in an abusive relationship?”
“Rehabilitate them with love.”
“Kill them with kindness?”
“Kill’s a little extreme. Maybe just maim.”
“Hold on.” Andrew dialed Grace’s number.
“Finally! Saina, this is important. Do you know Ama’s name?” She kicked against Barbra’s seat, dislodging the Diane Arbus photograph.
“Doesn’t Dad know it?”
“No.” Grace glared at her father, but his eyes were on the road. “All he knows is her last name even though he’s known her all his life.”
“You’ve known her all your life, too,” said Saina.
“Yeah, but I’ve known her for the shortest amount of time compared to everyone else, so you guys have been assholes for longer.”
“What made you think of it?” Saina asked.
“Andrew did. I don’t know.”
He felt silly, suddenly, for insisting on this piece of knowledge. Of course they’d be able to find her. “Dad! Do you know Ama’s daughter’s phone number? Kathy’s number?”
Charles, busy unfolding a map, shook his head.
“But then how do we call Ama if we need to? I didn’t say goodbye to her!” said Andrew.
“You mean we won’t see her again?” Grace thought back to their escape from Kathy’s house. It had been a hurried, uncomfortable exit, and she’d only given Ama a quick hug. They’d abandoned Ama as if she were a puppy, an off-season sweater, this woman who had changed their shitty diapers and bandaged their skinned knees and spooned porridge into their baby-bird mouths. She would never have done it if she’d known. Never. This was her father’s fault, and Barbra’s. Grace kicked Barbra’s seat again, but still her stepmother did nothing. Nothing. What did she ever do besides get her nails done and organize her closet and buy sunglasses? Babs had so many pairs of sunglasses. The only worthwhile thing she’d ever taught Grace was how to apply lipstick without looking in a mirror.
“Hold on, I’m checking Facebook,” said Saina over the phone. “Where are you guys stopping next?”
“Remember Uncle Nash? We’re going to stay with him in New Orleans.”
“That guy? He always had such a crush on Mom. Oh wait, here, Kathy’s on Facebook!”
Andrew reached over and touched his little sister’s leg. “See, we found her. It’s okay.”
Suddenly, finding Ama didn’t matter as much to Grace. “Hold up, Uncle Nash had a crush on Mom? How did you know?” Worried, she looked at her father in the rearview mirror, and whispered, “Does Dad know?”
Saina laughed. “I don’t think it was that big of a deal. He just used to always compliment her and open doors for her and stuff.”
“I guess it makes sense,” said Grace. “She was so beautiful.”