In an Instant(51)

She’s lying, but only I know this because I know Mo so well. When Mo lies, the emphasis on certain words is too sharp. I don’t know. I found them near the steps.

Chloe picks up the gray one. It’s no bigger than her palm. It cries and cries. “Shhh,” she says, then to Mo, “It’s hungry?”

“You think?” Mo says innocently, still lying.

“Do you have milk?”

Mo nods.

“And an eyedropper?”

Mo jogs toward her house.

“You need to warm the milk,” Chloe instructs as Mo opens the door. “Not hot, just warm, like body temperature.”

Mrs. Kaminski is in the kitchen, waiting. She sits at the table with a cup of tea in front of her and a book. “Did it work?” she says.

“I think so,” Mo says. “She’s out there with them now.”

As the microwave warms the milk, Mo walks to the table and drops a kiss on top of her mom’s head. “Thanks.”

Mrs. Kaminski pats Mo’s hand. “Anything to help. I’m sorry to hear she’s struggling. Sorry it took so long. Finding newborn kittens isn’t easy. Most kennels put them down if they’re that young. I needed to drive to Oceanside.”

The microwave beeps. “Well, let’s hope it was worth it,” Mo says, grabbing the bowl of milk and the eyedropper and heading back to the yard.

Mo is brilliant, brilliant and beautiful, and I was very lucky to have had her as my best friend. Her greatest talent is knowing people, an amazing ability to suss out a person’s core like a hunting dog. While the rest of the world saw what they wanted to see when they looked at Chloe, Mo saw the truth, and then, more importantly, she concocted the perfect plan to save her.

Mo watches as Chloe drips milk into the gray kitten’s mouth. “Shhh, you’re okay. Shhh, that’s it. Good boy.” Chloe is in love.

When she finishes with the gray one, she takes out a tabby-colored runt, half the size of her brother but with the roar of a lion.

“Finn,” she says. “I’m going to call you Finn.”





61

When Chloe picks up the third kitten to feed her, I go to find my dad to see what’s keeping him and Vance. It’s been hours, and the drive from the Audubon only takes twenty minutes.

Are you kidding me?

I do not end up at Vance’s house, and I am not on my way to our house. We’re not even in Orange County. We are in Vance’s 4Runner a mile from my grandfather’s cabin. Vance is driving as my dad snores in the seat behind him.

I shudder as the truck cruises around the curve where the accident happened. Vance doesn’t notice, doesn’t even glance at the new guardrail or at the hillside that nudged us over the edge. Maybe it’s because he was in the back and did not see the deer or experience looking through the windshield as we tumbled over the edge. Strange how each perspective is so different, eleven entirely separate points of view.

The new guardrail is sturdier than before, constructed entirely of steel with no wood to rot over time. If the Miller Mobile were to encounter a deer today, we would be saved. But of course, there is no Miller Mobile anymore or any me or any Oz or any friendship between the Millers and the Golds. Mo would never be entrusted on a ski trip with us again, and Kyle probably never takes this shortcut anymore. Today there is no snow on the road or in the air, the sky blue and the sun shining.

“Mr. Miller,” Vance says when they turn the last bend and the cabin comes into view.

My dad grunts.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

Vance only looks half as bad as he did. A shower, a shave, and fresh clothes helped. The only change for the worse is the slight jaundice of his skin and the shaking of his deformed hands on the steering wheel.

My dad rubs his eyes as he sits up and ignores Vance’s question.

“Where’s her car?” Vance asks as he pulls his truck into the driveway.

“Ann drove her, then went home,” my dad lies.

Vance nods and, with a hard swallow, bravely steps from his truck.

“She knows I’m coming?” he says as he helps my dad from the back seat.

My dad nods, and Vance starts toward the door.

“Hold up,” my dad says, stopping him. “Give me the keys; I left my pills in the truck.”

Vance hands my dad his keys and continues on, and my dad clicks the truck open, pretends to grab something from the back seat, then clicks the locks closed again and tucks the keys in his pocket.

“Where is she?” Vance says when they step inside the empty cabin.

“Welcome to your new home,” my dad answers.

The cabin is eerily unchanged from the evening we left for pancakes at the Grizzly Manor. Our skis and the coolers are still in the entry, the grocery bags with our food for the weekend still on the counter.

Vance looks at him, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Chloe’s not here?”

“I’m going to sleep,” my dad says. “There should be some cereal in the kitchen. There’s no milk, but you’ll live.”

“What the fuck? You told me . . .”

My dad turns, only exhaustion on his face. “I told you, Chloe needs to see you. And she does, but she can’t see you the way you are right now. Chloe has a soft spot for pathetic, so before I can let her see you, I need to turn you back into the arrogant punk you used to be so Chloe can realize what an asshole you are and be done with you.”