Page 5 of Wild Life

Fat raindrops punched the car, turning everything through the windows into smudgy splotches. Rain the day before Thanksgiving in Seattle was normal. It would be nice to live somewhere warm. Maybe near a beach.I would eat mangoes all day and then swim until bedtime. That was where I wanted to live when I grew up—free to play and be happy for the rest of my life.

Without removing his focus from the slippery road, Dad reached into the little cubby between the seats and pulled out a stack of white napkins leftover from our secret fast-food trips for French fries on weekends when Mom was at Pilates class. It was his way of “seeing about dinner” for the only kid in the house.

Mom snatched a rectangle of white paper from him like she had the juice from mine. She had a problem with usinggentle handsto take things from other people.

“It’s ruined, Frank.” She rubbed at the speckled fabric, but the stain stayed. “Is it too much to ask to look nice for once when we visit my parents?”

“You always look nice, dear.” Dad lifted her sticky hand and kissed the back of it.

“And youalwayssay that.” Mom rolled her eyes. I was surprised hers never got stuck like she said mine would whenever I did the same thing.

Turning his head toward her, he smiled. “I always mean it.”

As a heart surgeon, he was a serious person, but when it came to my mom, he was as soft as mashed potatoes. She could get whatever she wanted out of him. Most of my punishments came from Mom bugging Dad todo something about his daughter. If it were up to him, he’d ignore anything I did wrong. And it wasn’t because he adored me. It was the opposite—he never paid much attention to me. I was either annoying Mom too much or boring Dad. So, I kept to myself as much as an only child could, pretending my stuffed animals were real animals and caring for them like their doctor. Bit the bat was my favorite patient, but I never let the other stuffies know that.

“I don’t know why you bother to get so dressed up for Thanksgiving anyway. It’s just going to be us at your parents’ house,” Dad said.

“AndSherri!” Whenever Mom mentioned Aunt Sherri, ther’s in her name sounded too hard. Like she was grinding her teeth to get the rest of the name out.

“Pamela, your sister doesn’t care about what we wear.”

Mom glared at the side of Dad’s face like he was the one drinking a juice pouch. “I don’t care what Sherri cares or doesn’t care about.”

It was a lie. Mom was always worried about Aunt Sherri’s opinion, which confused me because my aunt was usually quiet.

The two sisters were like night and day. Mom’s nose was usually between the pages of society magazines and blogs, while Aunt Sherri’s was behind a microscope. She was a scientist…biochemistry-istor whatever it’s called. I didn’t have much of a relationship with her because she scared me. She didn’t like to be touched, so she never hugged me like I thought an aunt would hug her niece. I didn’t think she liked kids at all. She seemed like she would rather be anywhere else than with her family.

I was never comfortable around her, so I kind of understood Mom’s feelings.

The car jerked slightly on the road, and the seat belt cut into my belly, which was as puffy as a balloon, as we swung to the right. Dad quickly turned the wheel, and the car moved straight again.

“I really need to pee. Now!”

Mom twisted around. “No. You should have used the restroom before we left home.”

“I did!” I squeezed my legs together and hoped that it would be enough to stop from bursting. Now probably wasn’t a good time to let her know about the other two empty pouches that I’d hidden between my seat and the door.

“Oh God, Maris. Please tell me you didn’t bring that hideous rat.” Her eye scrunched at the corner as she stared at my chest.

“It’s abat!” She had finally noticed Bit snuggled under my arm. I never went anywhere without him. He made me feel less lonely, even when my parents were around. It was kind of funny that Aunt Sherri was the one who had given him to me as a Christmas gift last year. Mom’s face had frozen when I’d opened the gift, and that had made Bit my new favorite toy. After that, he never left my side.

Of all the animals in the world, I loved bats and how much they loved each other. They were smart enough to hunt alone at night, but the coolest thing about them was how they slept. Hundreds of bats cuddled together, so warm and safe. Eachbelongedto the colony.

It was very different from how things were in my family. I didn’t belong and it made me sad. When I was younger, I cried to get the attention I needed. As I grew up, I quickly learned that it was better for me to create my own world where I belonged, with my stuffies. With them, I could pretend that they needed me and that I could give them the love that I wished Mom and Dad, and even Aunt Sherri, would give me.

“Frank, help me out here. She’s eight years old and still walking around with a stuffed animal like a baby.”

My lips turned down. Mom could be so mean sometimes. And the brown bag in her lap was way uglier than Bit.

“So what? You walk around with your purse all day. Can we pull over, please?” Mom was concerned with everything but the most important issue: my pee. If they didn’t pull over soon, I was really going to act like a baby and wet myself.

Dad laughed while Mom’s face twisted like she’d smelled something bad. “No, we have twenty-five minutes left before we reach the lake house, and you can hold your bladder until then. And this,” she lifted the bag, displaying the gold LV on the front, “is a designer bag. One day, you’ll be thanking me for leaving it to you when I die.”

I let out a huge breath. It was always the same thing: her purses wereinvestments, and I was going to be so rich from the collection she was leaving behind for me.

I didn’t care aboutthings.I cared about being loved. I was jealous of the girls in my class. They had dates at the nail salon with their moms and got to go to the school daddy-daughter dances on the arms of their dads. Mom went to the salon to get away from me, and Dad worked all the time.

I closed my eyes and wished for something I knew would never come true. I wished I could move far away and live with the bats on a tropical island and never see my parents again.

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