And he was gone.

I reread my texts. It was all true, but it was ancient history. Why couldn’t I move past it? The thought of a relationship made me nervous, not excited—trapped, not hopeful—but something was happening. A door had cracked open, and new revelations were coming uncomfortably fast. But I had work to do, if I was going to make it through this trip without shutting the door, going home, and breathing the old stale air of sameness.

But now that I had fresh air in my lungs, I didn’t think I could go back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NO NAME-CALLING

Despite its newly upcycled insides, the camper’s bones and joints were old. Uneven pavement or a break in the asphalt brought on a bouncing wheeze like the whole thing was made of rusty springs. If the camper’s tires crossed the fog line and ran up against the edge of the highway, I’d hold my breath, fearing we’d tumble, top heavy, into the ditch.

I pictured the dozens of accidents I’d seen over the years, unbalanced trucks toppled and in the median, RVs lying sideways like fat, beached harbor seals, unable to roll back upright. Holly always drove faster than I did; she did everything like she was on a deadline.

I ventured a look in the front cab. Summer sat cross-legged with her wrists on her knees in a meditation pose: back straight, chin lifted, eyes closed. Holly stared through the windshield and said, “Uh-huh. Okay.” I realized she was on the phone when I saw her earbuds.

“Darling,” she said in her Nice Holly voice. “There’s no cramping this time, right?” She paused.

I could see in the reflection of the rearview mirror that Holly looked fearful. Her expression, the tone of her voice made me hold my breath. I listened hard.

“What did the doctor say?” I wished I could hear Rosie’s report. “We’re making good time, sweetie. We’ll be home soon.” Holly touched her face, wiped her eyes.

I almost touched Holly’s shoulder to offer a squeeze of reassurance. She’d scoff, brush me off, so I kept my comfort to myself. Besides, what did I know about the knife-edge Rosie and Holly lived on? I’d had an accidental conception with the easiest of pregnancies and deliveries. Holly would be sure to remind me of that, as if that was another blessing I didn’t deserve. That my pregnancy was accidental, which somehow negated my love for my daughter, which ignited, once again, my indignation. However it was that my daughter came into my life, nothing had made me happier.

My phone buzzed, and as if my daughter knew I was having a mothering moment, she texted.

MADDIE: I’ve got a handle on the internship, Mom. But the babysitting! I’m supposed to make dinner for the kids. I don’t know what to make. Also, I accidentally fed Lyddie milk chocolate, and she’s had diarrhea all morning. I’m terrible at this job

I texted some ideas for an easy meal. I comforted her about her mistake and sent her an internet link with a list of foods with hidden milk in them. While I problem solved for Maddie, I was totally engaged with being her mother. But then she texted:

MADDIE: OK. Later mom. I love you

And she was gone, and I was once again alone with my thoughts, stuck in a camper in the middle of who knew where. There was no quid pro quo from kids. No How’s the trip going? Or, Are you having a good time? That’s not how the parenting contract went. For every ten times parents supported their child, their child might think to respond once in kind. Typically I didn’t notice such things, but for some reason, listening to Holly talk to Rosie, watching the self-sure Summer in the passenger seat of this rolling rust kettle, I was feeling lonely. I realized this feeling was going to be my life, and my shoulders sagged.

My mind wandered to the moms of Maddie’s friend circle. More often than not, they spoke with extreme irritation about their husbands.

There was Genevieve Post and her husband, Jim. After Jimbo forgot to bring the seven-layer bars that Genevieve had individually packaged and priced herself to the swim team bake sale, she said, “Well, what do you expect? Men are one chromosome away from a cricket.” It was clear from that woman’s expression she was not kidding.

And Melissa Trenton’s exasperation was real when her husband’s marketing position had been phased out, and he was on the job market for the third time. “Listen, if I could phase him out, I would phase him the ef out so fast and replace him with a drone. At least the drone moves if you push a button. It would be so satisfying to have something, anything, at my command.”

As many times as I was conflicted about being a single parent, just as often I was relieved. When things went wrong when you were single, you had no one to blame but yourself—which cut the accusations in half because no one was looking at you disapprovingly. You were alone in blaming yourself for all the errors you made.

I remembered the shaman’s words, wondered if there was any wisdom to be had there, and began googling down a speedy e–rabbit hole. And, after an hour of increasingly tense browsing, I reviewed my history.

Are shamans real

Spirit animals and you

Animals that saved people’s lives

Six surprising animal and cancer facts

Health effects of letting your dog sleep in your bed

Nine things happy healthy people have in their bedrooms

The best summer sex toys

Why does everyone hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

I closed my eyes, let my disorder take over, and when I woke we were in Utah.

Outside the dusty camper windows lay a wide-open landscape. Cliffs in shades of pink and orange were punctuated by scruffy brush and layered stone. The geography looked like a colossal birthday cake that had been left in the searing sun to bake, dry, and petrify. An occasional off-kilter wooden shack dotted the vista just like in the westerns made here decades before.

Sometime between my googling, reading, and sleeping, Summer had taken over the driving, and Holly had curled up in the passenger seat. I could hear her congested inhale, still sleeping soundly despite the cramped space. I scooted between the two seats and spoke softly to Summer.

“Are we close?”

Summer blew a kiss over her shoulder. “Good morning, Princess Sleepy.”

“I think I might be Sleepy the dwarf.”

“I think his name is Sluggish. There’s some kombucha in my bag. Take a sip.”

Her sweet greeting and offer had me feeling cared for. I squeezed Summer’s shoulder and said, “I’m glad you’re with us.”

Summer hugged my hand between her cheek and shoulder. “I know you are. Can’t say the same for your soul mate over there.”

“My soul mate?” I laughed.

Summer widened her eyes for emphasis. “You two may make each other insane, but there’s no denying your connection. You are two peas in a pod.”

“I don’t think that expression means what you think it means.”

“Oh, I know what it means, all right.”

“How long has Holly been asleep?”

“See how much you care? You two are the best kind of women.” She swallowed, and the tip of her nose went red.

“Summer?”

She waved me off. “She’s been sleeping for a while. You’ll both be fresh for our reunion with Peanut. Holly called the sanctuary. He’s there and waiting for us.”

“She’s so practical. So prepared. I should have done that.”

“You’ve got a lot going on. You’re keeping track of your best friend, your daughter, and healing from the past. Also, this man you are texting.” She caught my eye in the rearview mirror and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “What’s that all about?”

“Is this part of your magical aura reading?” Her insight did seem magical.

“No, sweetie. I snooped your phone when you were sleeping. It should be password protected, hon. I can show you how to do it. We can pick a number even you won’t forget.”

“Hey!” But I didn’t really care. What did I have to hide? “I can remember my passwords. I don’t have it protected because I have nothing to hide.”

“That’s what everyone thinks, but when our privacy goes haywire and the fascists come to get us, you’ll wish you had a password on your phone.”

I squinted through the dirty windshield into the dry but colorful vista and said, “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Take it from me. When that video of me and that Italian porn star surfaced at Coachella, I realized how fragile our privacy is. You have to get all your photos off the cloud.” She air quoted “the cloud” as if it wasn’t a real thing.

“You had a sex video on your phone?”

“No, someone filmed it from a hole in a hotel room in Vegas.”

“So it wasn’t stored in the cloud from your phone?”

“No. Why does that matter? Sam, you need to straighten some things out with your inner deer.”

“What are we talking about?”