“He’s thinking of the title, ‘Mommy, May I Cum?’ Not very original, in my opinion. I’m thinking a better title would be—”
She was still talking when I pressed the button to end the call. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t listen. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t anything at the moment. I just wanted to go back into seclusion and pretend the past two minutes hadn’t happened.
I’d done it to myself, calling her.
My phone vibrated in my hand as she called me back. I had known better than to respond to her messages. It was stupid of me to call, but the little girl inside me continued to hold onto a small sliver of hope that I wouldn’t have to mother my own mother, or be embarrassed to even walk with her down the street.
The reality was that Cyn Meadows would never change, and it was my fault for thinking things could be any different. She would always only be happy in the limelight, and if she failed at that, she would sink into a deep depression. Those were the two swings of her pendulum. Nothing was in between. Not even me.
“Your groceries are ready.”
I jumped at the voice. It was Pop Junior Junior standing in the door, two red dots on his cheeks as his big brown puppy dog eyes stared at me, just as they always did.
“Thank you so much.” Pushing myself from the seat, I was conscious of him watching my every move as I stuffed my long dark hair back under the wool cap and zipped the bulky parka to my chin.
The teen’s blush grew even redder as I passed by him. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, his voice breaking in places. “I’ll help you load the car.”
I considered telling him I’d just do it myself, but the snow was starting to fall harder and I really could use the help. I gave him a bright smile that caused his cheeks to almost glow in the dim light of the old store. “Thank you.”
Not even taking the time to check the bags, I paid for the groceries with cash, just like I always did. I didn’t want anyone on the mountain to know my full name, so avoided credit cards whenever possible. I wasn’t famous, but one Google search made people look at me different. They were either disgusted by my presence — after all, who wants their sweet offspring knowing a porn queen’s child? — or wanted to get to know me better. Those in the latter category always assumed I wanted their attention because of who my mother was. And most of them didn’t take no as an answer very well.
I typed out the email to Dr. Jackson as Mrs. Pop made change, the concerned look on her face growing even deeper. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay here, Miss Zoe?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Pop Junior Junior’s head whip in my direction, his eyebrows nearly at his hairline.
That sealed the deal. The teen was harmless, but I couldn’t imagine having to endure those puppy dog eyes for hours on end, let alone a day or two. Besides, I’d left my laptop at the cabin. If I was going to be snowbound anywhere, I wanted it to be with it firmly on my lap.
“Thank you so much for the offer and the concern,” I told her, pulling on my gloves. I hefted a bag on my hip as her son grabbed two more. “You all stay safe and warm too. See you next week.”
Her smile looked forced. “It might be longer than that before they’re able to dig you out up there.”
Seriously?
“So, two weeks then?”
She nodded, but didn’t look certain. “Probably so, sweetie. Depends on how much ice we get with the snow. You be safe. Have you ever driven in this kind of weather before?”
Um, no.
I didn’t tell her that. “I promise to be careful,” I said instead. “And the Jeep has four-wheel drive.”
Which would probably come in handy if I knew how to use it.
I wisely kept my mouth shut about that too. After my supplies were loaded and a few more “be carefuls” along with a big hug that melted my heart, I was on my way, the road still a black ribbon before me.
“See, I can drive just fine in the snow,” I said to the angel hanging from the rearview mirror. I’d only met Leslie’s Uncle Stanley once and hadn’t pictured the big, burly man to be an angel kind of guy, but it was a comfort to have this cute silver one dangling in front of me. And I especially loved the Thoreau inscription…
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.
But as the miles passed and the climb got steeper, my confidence in my direction began to wane. Where only a few minutes ago I could see the road, it was now getting whiter and whiter. I had the defrost on high and the windshield wipers on as fast as they would go, but the fog on the glass wouldn’t dissipate. Neither would the ice building up around the edges.
I navigated a hairpin curve with a gradient that seemed to go straight up into nothing but whiteness, my fingers cramping as I held the steering wheel so tight. By the time I was halfway up the mountain, my jaw ached from clenching my teeth, and my shoulders were in knots, the muscles in my neck feeling like they were going to snap at any moment. When it got to the point where I could barely see past the hood of the Jeep, I knew I was in serious trouble.
I should have listened to Mrs. Pop, but things looked okay fifteen minutes ago. How had the universe changed so quickly?
Taking a deep breath, I belted out a Carrie Underwood song. Well, kinda. My version was more along the lines of Jesus taking the steering wheel and driving me out of this shit. “Sorry,” I muttered to the angel. “Now isn’t the time to curse and say Jesus in the same sentence.”
The Jeep slid.
“I said I was sorry,” I shouted as I turned the wheel in the other direction. I might not have driven in the snow before, but I’d navigated Los Angeles traffic in the rain plenty of times and turning into the slide was instinctual.
“Okay, I’ve got this,” I said to the angel, finding the sound of a voice — even my own voice — a comfort. Heart still hammering inside my ribcage, I pressed the gas, and the tires skidded before catching, and I inched up the mountain again. I blew out the breath I’d been holding, but my jaw went straight back into the gritting position as the back tires slipped left, sending me into a shallow ditch.
It was still officially daylight, but the world was as dim as late evening, which was odd considering that I was surrounded by white. “Keep it together, Super Z,” I told myself and turned on the inside light to look over the gears.
When I was little, I’d play in the back rooms of studios in which my mother “worked” and got really good at using my imagination to entertain myself. I’d pretend that I was one of the Disney princesses, but my favorite made-up character was Super Z. As this superhero, I’d fight off the bad guys, restore order to a tumultuous world. My superpower was the ability to transport to any destination I wished. Oh, how I wished I had that superpower now.