Where'd You Go, Bernadette(76)

“That’s why I wanted the receipt from the gift shop,” I said really slowly, because maybe then he’d understand. “To prove that she bought warm clothes. They sell them there. I saw them. Parkas and boots and hats. They also sell granola bars—”

“Granola bars!” That was it for Dad. “Granola bars? That’s what this is based on?” The skin on Dad’s neck was translucent and a big vein trembled. “Parkas and granola bars? Have you been outside yet?”

“No—” I stammered.

He stood up. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“I want you to feel the temperature.”

“No!” I said as emphatically as I could. “I know what cold feels like.”

“Not this kind of cold.” He grabbed the captain’s report.

“That’s mine,” I yelled. “That’s private property!”

“If you’re so interested in facts, come with me.” He grabbed me by the hood and dragged me out the door. I was grunting, “Let me go!” and he was grunting, “You’re coming with me!” We elbowed each other up the steep and narrow staircase one level, then two levels, and we were clawing and cussing so fiercely it took us both a second to register that we had become the focus of attention. We were in the lounge. The Japanese people sat at origami-paper-covered tables, just staring at us.

“You here for origami?” said the Japanese translator with mixed emotion, because on the one hand it looked like nobody had shown up for their workshop, but on the other hand, who would want to teach origami to the two of us?

“No, thanks,” Dad said, letting go of me.

I sprinted across the lounge and accidentally brushed against one of the chairs, which I had forgotten was bolted down, so instead of it tumbling out of the way, it nailed me in my ribs and I ricocheted into one of the tables, plus the boat started pitching.

Dad was on me. “Where do you think—”

“I’m not going outside with you!” We were a wrestling, scratching, slapping bundle of origami paper and brand-new Patagonia, tumbling toward the exit. I stuck my foot against the doorjamb so Dad couldn’t push me any farther.

“What was Mom’s big crime, anyway?” I screamed. “That she had an assistant in India doing errands for her? What’s Samantha 2? It’s just something so people can sit around and have a robot do all their shit for them. You spent ten years of your life and billions of dollars inventing something so people don’t have to live their own lives. Mom found a way of doing it for seventy-five cents an hour, and you tried to have her committed to a mental hospital!”

“That’s what you think?” he said.

“You were a real rock star, Dad, walking down the aisle of the Microsoft Connector.”

“I didn’t write that!”

“Your girlfriend did!” I said. “We all know the truth. Mom ran away because you fell in love with your admin.”

“We’re going outside.” All Dad’s working-out obviously had some effect, because he picked me up with one arm as if I were made of balsa wood, and with the other yanked open the door.

Right before it shut, I caught a glimpse of the poor Japanese people. Nobody had moved. Some hands were frozen in midair, in the middle of doing a fold. It looked like a wax museum diorama of an origami presentation.

I hadn’t been outside yet the whole trip. Instantly my ears stung and my nose became a burning-cold stone at the end of my face. The wind blew so hard it froze the inside of my eyes. The tops of my cheeks felt like they might crack.

“We’re not even in Antarctica yet!” Dad howled through the wind. “Do you feel how cold it is? Do you?”

I opened my mouth, and the saliva on the inside froze, like an ice cave. When I swallowed, which took all my effort, it tasted like death.

“How did Bernadette keep alive for five weeks in this? Look around! Feel the air! We’re not even in Antarctica yet!”

I pulled my hands inside my cuffs and made fists with my numb fingers.

Dad shook the report at me. “The only truth here is that Mom was safely onboard January fifth at six p.m. and then she started drinking. The waters were too rough to anchor. And that was it. You’re looking for facts? Feel this. This wind, this cold, these are the facts.”

Dad was right. He’s smarter than me, and he was right. I would never find Mom.

“Give me that,” I said, and swiped at the report.

“I won’t let you do this, Bee! It’s not good for you, constantly searching for something that isn’t there!” Dad shook the report at me, and I tried to grab it, but my joints were too stiff and my hands caught on my sleeves and then it was too late and every last piece of paper got sucked high into the heavens.

“No! It’s all I have!” With each word, my icy breath knifed the inside of my lungs.

“It’s not all you have,” Dad said. “You have me, Bee.”

“I hate you!”

I ran to our room and swallowed two more white pills, not because I was seasick, but because I knew they would knock me out, and I just slept. I woke up once and I wasn’t tired anymore. I looked out the window. The sea was choppy and black and so was the sky. A lone seabird hung in the air. Something bobbed in the water. It was a huge chunk of ice, our first harbinger of the horrible land ahead. I took two more pills and fell back asleep.