In an Instant(18)

“I’m going for help,” my mom says.

Mo bites her bottom lip to stop the quiver as she fights to keep the tears in her eyes, and my mom pulls her into her arms, causing the dam to explode. Mo weeps against her shoulder, and it is strange for me to witness, to watch the way my mom holds her and strokes her hair. I cannot recall my mom ever holding me like that or being so tender. As far as I know, she’s never held Chloe or Aubrey that way, either, and a pang of jealousy strikes as I wonder, if it were me, if she would be as gentle.

My mom’s voice is low as she says, “You need to take care of Oz and Jack. Until I get back with help, you need to look out for them.” There’s warning in the words.

Mo pulls away and wipes the tears from her cheeks, and then she does something remarkable, something so incredibly Mo-like I miss her even more. “You need to wear the boots,” she says as she plops to the snow and wrenches off the UGGs, keeping her feet in the air so they won’t get wet.

“Mo . . .”

“There’s no argument. You need to get help, and Finn’s boots are going to get you there.” The words were chosen carefully, and my mom nods, then sits beside her so she can change boots. My UGGs fit my mom perfectly. For two years, we’ve worn the same size shoes.

Kyle’s head pops from the camper. “What’s going on out here?”

“As much fun as it’s been hanging out here in the cold,” my mom says bravely for Mo’s sake, “I think it’s time to call in the cavalry. I’m going to get help.”

Without hesitation, Kyle pulls himself out the door and says, “I’m coming with you.”

My mom nods, and that’s all the preamble there is before they begin to trek back in the direction the camper fell. Oz helps Mo onto the camper, then clambers up after her, and together they watch until my mom and Kyle fade away in the gauzy film of white. Only I notice that my mom did not say goodbye to Oz.





13

“Where are they going?” Oz asks.

“To get help,” Mo answers.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m hungry too,” Mo answers, and amazingly this plain shared understanding works, and Oz nods.

Aunt Karen, Uncle Bob, and Natalie stare from their huddle at the back of the camper when Mo and Oz return inside.

“Where’s Ann?” Uncle Bob says.

“She went for help.”

“Oh, thank God,” Aunt Karen says as Uncle Bob’s face grows concerned, his eyes drifting to the snow-packed window of the camper. He flexes his ankle with a wince, confirming for himself or the others the reason he’s not the one being a hero.

“The kid went with her?” he says, his voice tight with worry for my mom.

“Kyle,” Mo says as she lowers herself beside my dad, her lip sucked in as she works to hold it together. Oz returns to his corner and pulls Bingo onto his lap.

Uncle Bob continues to look at the snow while Aunt Karen watches Mo pull off my mom’s too-small combat boots to replace them with her own icy boots, her frozen fingers struggling to grip the stiff leather. Residual bitterness over my UGGs being given to Mo instead of Natalie lines her face.

Natalie’s expression is harder to read. There’s a slight wrinkle in her brow, and it’s hard to be certain, but if I’m not mistaken, beyond the outward expression of scorn that mirrors her mom’s is a shadow of respect, perhaps knowing that had my mom given my boots to her instead of Mo, Natalie would not have made the offer to give them back.

After Mo gets her boots zipped, she crawls toward the cab. My mom’s purse and Chloe’s purse are still where they landed, thrown against the driver’s seat with the playing cards and poker chips and Scrabble letters. Aunt Karen has retrieved her own purse, and it is tucked beside her.

Mo goes through my mom’s bag first—a few hundred dollars in cash, credit cards, sunglasses, makeup, a hairbrush, two dozen receipts, six pens, tampons, and a menu for our local Thai restaurant. Chloe’s bag proves more bountiful—in addition to all the nonuseful makeup and empty candy wrappers is a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, a pair of black tights, and a BIC lighter. Mo slyly pockets the tights and sets aside the book and the lighter along with the receipts and cash. She continues into the cab, swooning slightly when she sees the blood-soaked seats, and rummages through the console to find a few maps, my dad’s hat, and a carrot he had probably put there for the snowman he was going to build with Oz. The carrot goes in her pocket with the tights, and she carries the hat along with the kindling back into the trailer.

Uncle Bob’s face darkens when he sees the hat; his own head is bare, and my skin prickles with concern. The subtle shift in the dynamic with my mom and Kyle gone is unsettling. Uncle Bob, Aunt Karen, and Natalie now on one side. My dad, Mo, and Oz on the other. I look to where Aunt Karen’s purse was to see that she has pushed it farther beneath the seat to conceal it.

Mo unties my dad’s hood, and I watch Uncle Bob snap out of it like a switch. He shakes his head as if waking from a daze, then pushes to his feet. “Let me help,” he says. Keeping his ankle lifted, he hops to squat beside her and lifts my dad’s head so Mo can pull the hat over his hair.

“Thank you,” Mo says as she recinches the hood.

Uncle Bob rests his hand on my dad’s chest. “Hang in there, Jack.” Then he hobbles back to his family while Mo remains huddled beside mine.