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"Tully needs—"
"I think I can figure out what my daughter needs. " Her mother seemed to be trying to stand straight, but it wasn't working. She was kind of wobbly and her eyes looked funny. She twirled a strand of long, wavy hair around her finger.
Gran moved toward them. "Raising a child is a big responsibility, Dorothy. Maybe if you moved in here for a while and got to know Tully you'd be ready . . . " She paused, then frowned and said quietly, "You're drunk. "
Mommy giggled and winked at Tully.
Tully winked back. Drunk wasn't so bad. Her grandpa used to drink lots before he got sick. Even Gran sometimes had a glass of wine.
"Iss my birthday, Mother, or have you forgotten?"
"Your birthday?" Tully shot to her feet. "Wait here," she said, then ran to her room. Her heart was racing as she dug through her vanity drawer, scattering her stuff everywhere, looking for the macaroni and bead necklace she'd made her mom at Bible school last year. Gran had frowned when she saw it, told her not to get her hopes up, but Tully hadn't been able to do that. Her hopes had been up for years. Shoving it in her pocket, she rushed back out, just in time to hear her mommy say,
"I'm not drunk, Mother, dear. I'm with my kid again for the first time in three years. Love is the ultimate high. "
"Six years. She was four the last time you dropped her off here. "
"That long ago?" Mommy said, looking confused.
"Move back home, Dorothy. I can help you. "
"Like you did last time? No, thanks. "
Last time? Mommy had come back before?
Gran sighed, then stiffened. "How long are you going to hold all that against me?"
"It's hardly the kind of thing that has an expiration date, is it? Come on, Tallulah. " Her mom lurched toward the door.
Tully frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Her mommy hadn't hugged her or kissed her or asked how she was. And everyone knew you were supposed to pack a suitcase to leave. She pointed at her bedroom door. "My stuff—"
"You don't need that materialistic shit, Tallulah. "
"Huh?" Tully didn't understand.
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Gran pulled her into a hug that smelled sweetly familiar, of talcum powder and hair spray. These were the only arms that had ever hugged Tully, this was the only person who'd ever made her feel safe, and suddenly she was afraid. "Gran?" she said pulling back. "What's happening?"
"You're coming with me," Mommy said, reaching out to the doorframe to steady herself.
Her grandmother clutched her by the shoulders, gave her a little shake. "You know our phone number and address, right? You call us if you get scared or something goes wrong. " She was crying; seeing her strong, quiet grandmother cry scared and confused Tully. What was going on? What had she done wrong already?
"I'm sorry, Gran, I—"
Mommy swooped over and grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her hard. "Don't ever say you're sorry. It makes you look pathetic. Come on. " She took Tully's hand and pulled her toward the door.
Tully stumbled along behind her mother, out of the house and down the steps and across the street to a rusted VW bus that had plastic flower decals all over it and a giant yellow peace symbol painted on the side.
The door opened; thick gray smoke rolled out. Through the haze she saw three people in the van. A black man with a huge afro and a red headband was in the driver's seat. In the back was a woman in a fringed vest and striped pants, with a brown kerchief over her blond hair; beside her sat a man in bell-bottoms and a ratty T-shirt. Brown shag carpeting covered the van floor; a few pipes lay scattered about, mixed up with empty beer bottles, food wrappers, and eight-track tapes.
"This is my kid, Tallulah," Mom said.
Tully didn't say anything, but she hated to be called Tallulah. She'd tell her mommy that later, when they were alone.
"Far out," someone said.
"She looks just like you, Dot. It blows my mind. "
