Julia's Daughters

I stop halfway to the car, turn around, and hold my hand up to him the way he does to me sometimes. The gesture has always annoyed me. It’s as if when we get into a disagreement, he suddenly wants to treat me like he’s my father. “I can’t do this right now, Ben.”

I turn back to the car and see that Haley’s slid over in the backseat. She’s leaning against the door. I keep my eye on her as I walk quickly toward her. She looks like she’s about to bolt. I point at her and our gazes lock. She looks down. Caught. Busted. The little witch was going to get out of the car.

“I’ll call you tonight, Ben,” I say, afraid to take my eyes off my captive in the backseat of my Toyota. “Izzy!” I holler again. There’s a tightness in my chest, a sense of panic. I feel like I can’t breathe. Like if I don’t get out of here now . . . I don’t know what will happen.

When I reach the driver side, I yank open my door and lean in. “Going somewhere?” I ask my daughter, sounding pretty un-motherlike.

She throws herself back on the seat, her cell phone clutched in her hand.

“I told you. I’ll call nine-one-one,” I threaten.

“You wouldn’t do it.” Haley says it so softly that I’m not absolutely sure I heard her say it. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Try me,” I say just as quietly.

She raises her phone and begins to text. I stand up and look toward the house. It’s been at least five minutes. It’s probably been ten. Where’s Izzy? I’m tempted to go into the house for her, but I’m afraid Haley will run and I doubt Ben would know to go after her.

He’s still standing in the driveway, right where I left him. He still has a chance to say he’ll come with us. Now that I’m taking Izzy with me, I think he just might do it. Izzy’s always been his favorite. Please, Ben. Come with us. Run away with us. Run away for us.

I look at him, then back at Haley when her phone dings again. “Who are you texting?” I ask her, then glance at the house again.

She doesn’t answer.

I look at Ben again. Please, I pray. Not to God. I’m not sure I even believe in God anymore. So not to Him, but to . . . the powers of the universe maybe. Please come with us. Or please, Izzy. Get your ass in the car.

Haley is texting like crazy.

“Who are you texting?” I repeat. She’s in the middle of the backseat, clutching her phone like it’s a lifeline, which for teens, I suppose it is.

Her phone dings again.

I don’t know what gets into me. I reach into the back of my car and snatch the iPhone right out of her hand.

“Give me that,” Haley screeches. When she can’t reach it, she moves toward the door.

I slam my door shut and hit the lock button as my seventeen-year-old daughter hurls herself against the car door. I hit the child lock button on my door’s console.

Haley tries to open the door several times. “Let me out! Let me out!” The door handle makes a sound every time she releases it. She’s shrieking at me like a caged animal. “Give me my phone!”

I clutch it in my hand and look down at it. A text pops up.

B their in 5

At the same moment, the handle of the front passenger door rattles. Then there’s a knock on the window. “Mom?”

I look up.

It’s Izzy. She’s standing at the passenger side door, loaded down with bags. She’s got so many, I don’t know how she made it down the driveway on her own. And she’s got one of the pillows from her bed.

Whenever we took a road trip when our girls were younger, they all used to bring their own pillows. We haven’t gone on a road trip together in years. We just got too busy once Haley hit high school.

“Mom?” Izzy’s panicking now too. Her voice is muffled, but I can hear it in her high-pitched tone.

What am I doing to my children? What am I doing in this car, about to set off across the country? We’re so damaged. All of us. This is insanity.

But I can’t stop myself now. It’s as if I’m moving forward and nothing can alter my path.

“I’m ready,” Izzy hollers, banging on the door with her knee. “Let me in.”

I start the car, but I’m hesitant to unlock the doors. Then I realize that as long as the child locks are engaged, Haley can’t get out the back door. I lower the passenger-side front window a little and duck down so that I can see Izzy’s flushed face. I’m still holding Haley’s phone. I look down at the phone in my hand. The message is from Todd. Her ex. Todd is the one who doesn’t know the difference between there and their. He’s coming for her. He was coming here to take her away from me.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with her phone, but I can’t give it back to her. She really was going to run.

I lean over again and look at Izzy through the open crack in the window. “Listen carefully. Walk to the back of the car. I’m going to unlock the doors. When you hear it click, open the hatch, put your bags in, and close it. Close it fast.”

“What the hell, Mom?” Haley hollers. “You think I’m going to climb over the freakin’ seat?”

I ignore her. Because I think she just might. I would have, when I was her age, had I been in the position she’s in right now. I once got out of the car when my stepfather stopped at a red light. I didn’t go home for three days, staying with different friends so he wouldn’t catch up to me.

Izzy walks to the back of the car.

“Julia? What are you doing?” Ben calls.

I turn to look through the backseat to the hatch. When I see Izzy standing there, I unlock the doors.

Haley’s slumped against the back door. Her arms are crossed over her chest. Her eyes are filled with tears. She won’t look at me.

“It’s going to be all right, Haley,” I say quietly.

She doesn’t respond.

Izzy drops things into the back: two zip duffel bags, a laundry bag, a shopping bag, a canvas bag. I can’t imagine what she’s bringing. I can’t imagine how she got it all together in ten minutes. She slams the hatch and runs around to the passenger side.

“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Izzy opens the front door and throws her purple school backpack onto the floor. She’s still hugging her pillow to her chest and she’s got her favorite cup in her hand. A Tervis cup with her name on it; Caitlin gave it to her for Christmas.

As Izzy drops into the passenger seat and slams the door, a can of cat food falls out of her sweatshirt pocket and rolls onto the floor. I have no idea why she’s got cat food in her sweatshirt, but I’m glad she thought to bring the sweatshirt. She’s still wearing her school uniform.

Izzy glances into the backseat. “What’s going on with her?” she asks, pushing back in her seat and fastening her seat belt.

I glance in the rearview mirror. I still have Haley’s iPhone in my hand. “Put your seat belt on,” I tell Haley.

She doesn’t answer, but she does as I say.

I put my own seat belt on and look up at the house one last time. Ben’s still standing there and he still looks pissed, but he looks sad, too.

But I can’t be responsible for everyone’s sadness.

I shift the car into gear and make a U-turn.

As I wait to pull out onto the main street, outside of our neighborhood, Haley’s phone dings in my hand.

“Give me my phone.” Haley’s voice is low and threatening.

I look down at the screen.

Wear r u?

Todd again.

There’s a break in traffic. I go.

“At least let me text him back,” Haley snaps from the backseat.

I put down the window and hurl her cell phone out. It makes a satisfying sound as it hits the pavement and I imagine someone running over it as I put up my window.

“Radio on or off?” I ask no one in particular.