Page 62 of The Backtrack
The power was out. And a hurricane was coming. And Sam was exhausted from nailing boards to the windows and then, well, getting nailed herself.
“You can stay,” Pearl said. “This is still my house. I haven’t sold it yet. So I make the rules.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Bonnie said.
There was something bizarre about her mom calling Grandma Pearl “Mama,” like she was a little girl again. The sentiment made Bonnie seem more vulnerable than Sam had imagined possible, like she still needed her mother. Bonnie had left Tybee when she was in her thirties, but now the skin on her hands had crinkles and there were deep laugh lines around her mouth.
Who had given her those? She’d clearly been living a good life without them in it.
“I don’t plan to stay long,” Bonnie added.
“Some things don’t change, then,” Sam said. But she couldn’t help notice Bonnie wince at the words.
“AmIsupposed to leave or...?” Jessie’s voice startled all three of them.
“Jesus, Jessie, you nearly made me pee myself.” Pearl clutched a hand to her chest.
“Well, I’m not the one who made things awkward by getting into a family squabble. You just don’t do that in front of guests.” Jessie crossed her arms and pointedly looked at Pearl.
Eventually, Pearl said, “Jessie is right. This is a hurricane party, and we’re not about to have a bad time. Can we agree to have whatever conversations need to be had in the morning?”
Bonnie clasped her hands in front of her, and Jessie took another swig of her White Claw.
But Sam wasn’t in the mood to be one big happy family. This whole day was, apparently, cursed. First, with the uncertainty around Damon, and now her mom unexpectedly showing up like an air pocket midflight. She wasn’t about to sit in the living room and pretend that Bonnie’s being here was okay—it absolutely wasn’t. But like Pearl said, this was her house and her hurricane party, and if they wanted to act like everything was normal, that was on them. Sam didn’t have to play along, though.
“You ladies have fun.” Sam grabbed a bag of open pretzels off the counter and another White Claw. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sure you are,” Pearl knowingly said. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” Bonnie said, and Sam shot daggers her way.
As she headed down the hall, Pearl asked, “Jess, did you bring Scrabble?”
“Winner gets an extra White Claw,” Jessie said.
“Then you better prepare to be—” Pearl searched for the right word “—annihilated. That’s eleven letters, in case you were wondering.”
“Challengeacknowledged,” Jessie said. “That’s twelve letters, and theWis worth four points.”
Sam wondered if Bonnie would follow her—after all, her mom seemed insistent on talking—but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Sam stopped at the hall closet to grab another flashlight. She flipped it on, walked to her room and closed the door behind her. She picked up her phone and sent a text to Damon.
Sam:
Hey, just want to make sure you’re ok?
Loud gusts of wind blew outside the window, and she had the urge to open it and feel the intense rush of air and rain whipping around the room.
When she was in middle school, she’d once opened the front door in the middle of a hurricane and the thing had nearly torn off the hinges. She’d profusely apologized as Pearl dragged her back inside and managed to slam the door shut. But secretly, there’d been a thrill to nearly being taken along with the storm. Sam had hardly been able to catch her breath as the wind slammed into her. There was a kind of release to not having any control.
The lack of control she had in her situation with Damon was altogether different, however. And now Bonnie was here, throwing yet another hook into the sea of Sam’s messy life. She didn’t want to give Bonnie a minute of her time, but she couldn’t run—there was the hurricane, for one, and she wasn’t about to leave Pearl alone with someone like Bonnie. Who knew what her mom was after; maybe she thought she could cash in on Pearl’s house, or grab jewelry she hadn’t stolen the first time around. Her mom couldn’t be trusted, and Sam knew that much. She’d have to keep a close eye on Bonnie.
Sam glanced at her phone, but there was no text back from Damon. If this were high school, Sam would bring her CD player under the covers and tune out the apprehension about Damon, and the voices of her mom and grandma until morning came. But this wasn’t high school, and her CD player, as it turned out, was more than what it used to be.
If ever there was a moment when Sam needed an evacuation slide, it was now. But there was no emergency exit. She was trapped in the house with Bonnie and the memories of all that pain.
She knew what would make her feel better. What had always brought her an escape when she had to deal with Bonnie. And on impulse, she reached for it.
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