The social worker made no move to take them, remaining perched on the edge of the bed. In that position, Joey couldn’t help but notice that Deborah’s body was shaped like a potato. Ruby, who always had strong opinions about other women’s bodies, would have said she was fat. But when Deborah had hugged her two nights ago after the arrest, the woman had felt so soft, so safe, her rolls and squishiness warm and comforting. She was a pillow in human form, the exact opposite of Ruby.
“I would like to read them,” Deborah said. “It might help me know you better, so I can support you the best I can. But it has to be okay with you, Joelle.”
“Whatever. I don’t care.”
The diaries were now in the back seat.
A strawberry-shaped air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror of Deborah’s Honda Accord. It was fuzzy like an oversize scratch ’n’ sniff sticker, and though it didn’t smell anything like strawberries, it did make the car smell nice. Ruby’s car always smelled like smoke.
“You doing okay, Joelle?” Deborah glanced over, the sunlight reflecting off her smooth, poreless dark skin. “I’ll need to stop for gas soon, if you need to go to the bathroom.”
If Deborah meant okay as in not currently injured and not physically ill, then sure, Joey was okay. She stared straight ahead, aware of Deborah’s black curls bobbing to the mixtape in the cassette deck. The social worker seemed too old for Young MC, but she knew all the words to “Bust a Move.” She’s dressed in yellow, she says hello …
Deborah glanced over again, still waiting for an answer. Finally Joey shrugged. She knew adults hated when kids did that, but not Deborah, who seemed to understand that sometimes there were no words. Sometimes the answer was a shrug.
“When will they let me see my mom?” Joey looked out the passenger-side window, where she could see her reflection. She appeared translucent, like a ghost （I wish I was a ghost）。
It took Deborah a few seconds to answer. “I wish I knew, honey. But I bet your aunt and uncle are excited to see you.”
The social worker said it so kindly that even though she knew the opposite to be true, Joey couldn’t bring herself to disagree. She’d only been to Maple Sound once before, a few years earlier. The visit had been a disaster. It was the day she met her grandmother （lola） for the first time.
It was also the day she realized that her bad mother also had a bad mother.
* * *
At the gas station, Joey waited in the car while the social worker went inside to pay. They were an hour into the two-hour drive up to Maple Sound, and it was going by at warp speed. With every kilometer, her heart grew heavier. It felt like this car ride was the dividing line between the before and the after. Once she arrived at her aunt and uncle’s house, she would cross into the after, and there would be no going back.
Deborah plopped back into the driver’s seat and handed Joey a plastic bag. Inside were several packs of Skittles.
“I know your aunt has three boys, but that candy is yours, Joelle, and you don’t have to share it with anyone.” Deborah’s tone was serious as she started the car. “Whenever you’re feeling lonely, have a couple of Skittles. Think of them as me giving you a hug. By the time you’ve finished the candy, I’ll be back for a visit. And I’ll bring you some more.”
Joey stared at the bag. An adult had just given her a present, and it wasn’t even her birthday. True, it was just Skittles, but it was the best gift she’d ever received. Because it was in exchange for … absolutely nothing.
“Thank you.” She willed herself not to cry.
An hour later, they arrived in Maple Sound. The entire family was outside on the porch when they pulled up. The two-story house was at the top of a hill, and while it had pretty views of Lake Huron, it was much smaller and more isolated than Joey remembered.
“It’s really pretty here.” Deborah sounded surprised as she cut the engine. She rolled down the window. “Smell that? Fresh air. And is that a pond I see over there? It’s so cute. Listen … you can hear the frogs—”
At first Joey didn’t understand why Deborah stopped speaking so abruptly, but then she realized it was because of her. She was crying, dammit, and she didn’t even know she was doing it until she saw the look on Deborah’s face. She swiped at her cheeks, embarrassed to be caught feeling something—and furious at herself for allowing it to show.
Tita Flora appeared near the driver’s-side door with a big smile. She did not look how Joey remembered, either. Her hair was cut short and lightened to an unnatural shade of auburn. Her three boys—Jason, Tyson, and Carson—remained on the porch, wrestling with each other behind Tito Micky, who seemed oblivious to the chaotic energy of his sons. Her uncle had changed, too. He had almost no hair left on his head, and he was skinnier, the sinewy muscles in his arms and legs all but gone from years of inactivity. His belly, in contrast, protruded firmly over his saggy green basketball shorts. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, and he had a lighter in his hand.