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The thought of driving Mom’s shitty SUV beyond the town limits sends a bead of sweat racing down my spine, but I won’t let Jeanie talk me out of it. “It works fine.”
“For grocery runs maybe, but you can’t drive it across the country! The whole electrical system shorts out at least once a week, and the damn thing leaks more fluid than a Dollar Store diaper. It’s only a matter of time before it heaves its last breath and leaves you stranded by the side of the road.”
“You’re the one who drilled into me how important this trip was to Mom. It took me long enough, but I finally get it.”
She lets out a primal shriek before turning toward Grandma. If not for her broken leg, she’d undoubtedly stomp her foot like a three-year-old in the throes of a temper tantrum. “G-Lo, tell her she can’t go!”
Grandma presses her pot leaf key chain into my hand, then folds my fingers around the huge wad of keys and squeezes. “You can take my car.”
“W-What?” Jeanie sputters, her mouth hanging open like a giant flytrap. “Compared to your car, the Explorer looks new! How that fossil even starts, let alone drives, boggles my mind.”
“Don’t hate on the Betty.” Grandma pats Jeanie’s unbandaged hand, guiding her toward the sofa. “She may be old, but she runs like a dream.”
“And smells like a nightmare!” Jeanie’s death glare isn’t nearly as scary with her eyelids drooping.
“Smelled like fries and ancient tacos to me.” I swallow my laugh.
Grandma shakes her bony finger at me, but there’s no heat in her expression. “Those tacos were from yesterday.”
“Do you even hear yourselves?” Jeanie says, the fight fading from her voice. “Joking about Zoey driving your ancient death trap across the country? That’s . . . you’ve both lost your minds!”
“Come on, Jeanie.” Grandma grabs her elbow and helps her sit. “The sun’s coming up, and your pain meds are probably wearing off. I have a spliff of Sour Diesel with your name on it. A few puffs of that, and you won’t even remember you have a sister.”
For every shirt I stuff into my backpack, Jeanie pulls out two.
“Stop packing.” Her voice cracks, warning me how close she is to losing it.
“Why?” I close my eyes, reminding myself I’m doing this for Mom. We wouldn’t even be having this argument if Jeanie hadn’t told me about the diary. But now that I know, I can’t unknow.
“Because maybe you’re right.” She fidgets with her crutches. “Maybe we should spread Mom’s ashes under the big tree. She loved that tree.”
Ignoring her, I go back to packing. “That’s the Percocet talking.”
“Maybe . . . but damn it, Zo. I can’t let you drive across the country by yourself!”
“I don’t need your permission. I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.”
“Well, this is the dumbest decision you’ve ever made. Mom would never forgive me if anything happened to you out there.”
With a sideways glance at my sister, I go back to shoving clothes into my bag. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.” She lets out a frustrated growl, then snatches the bag out of my hands and drops it to the floor. Balancing on her good leg with both crutches tucked under one arm, she reminds me of a beat-up old Raggedy Ann doll. “You may be an adult on paper, but you’re not exactly street smart.”
I scoop my bag from the floor and place it on the bed, out of her reach. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be spending a lot of time on the streets.”
“As your older sister, I . . . I forbid it!”
“Nice try.” I laugh. “I’m still going.”
Jeanie juts out her chin. “If Mom was still alive, she’d never let you go.”
“Mom begged us to do this. Remember?” I say the words through gritted teeth and cram my favorite jeans into my already-stuffed bag, stretching the seams as far as they’ll go. “Yesterday, you ordered me to go, now you want me to skip the whole thing? Make up your mind. I’m getting whiplash.”
Red blotches stain her cheeks, and she presses her lips together until they pale from the strain. “Because yesterday I was going with you. We’re supposed to be doing this together. That’s what she wanted.”
Memories of Mom planning one last trip to the beach for the three of us before she died hit me like a gut punch. “She wanted a lot of things.”
Jeanie’s fingers tremble as she picks at the Band-Aid on the back of her hand. “Zoey, please. Be reasonable.”
