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I set my notebook on the shelf behind the large couch that made up the back half of the space. Rainbow had ripped out most of the interior and turned it more into a little house on wheels. It was surprisingly comfortable compared to the vans I’d traveled in with her during my childhood.
At least this part of my mother had evolved.
Things were still mismatched in her flea market style. Macrame wall hangings warmed up the cold steel surfaces. She’d covered the walls in tapestries and reclaimed wood from various beaches she’d been to over the years. I kept track of her whereabouts through her social media.
She’d cashed in on the van-life aesthetic that had populated TikTok and Instagram. It kept her mostly on the road and in gas money. She could ship out her crafts and yarn from nearly any town in her travels.
But the fiber arts community converged on Bear Mountain every year just before the influx of autumnal traffic. This part of of New York was beyond gorgeous, and the hiking trails were made for late summer and fall.
The Rainbow Mobile shook and the bungee cords my mother had strapped across her bookcase held back the rattling books and trinkets from falling over. I held onto the sides of the Airstream as I made my way up to the front.
I dropped into the seat next to her, and the yowling cat sing-a-long came to an end.
“Hey, baby. I thought you were working.”
“I’ll work when we stop. A little too bumpy.”
“Yeah, there was a few summer storms. Some of the roads are covered in debris from flooding.” She tucked her foot up against her butt, resting her knee against the door as she navigated the turning lane to get across the bridge.
“You know if you ever got in an accident, you’d be paralyzed, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax.” She bounced in her seat that definitely hadn’t been original to the Airstream. It was like a freaking 70s recliner and a trucker seat had a baby. “You’re way too tense, sweetheart. Look at all of this. Trees and tiny little houses jammed into the mountain as far as the eye can see.”
“Those tiny houses are probably a million dollars minimum.”
She shrugged. “The suits come up from the city to experience all this. Most of them don’t appreciate it. Those kinds of places should be for people who would love the view.”
“Not all of them ignore the view.”
“I’ve been with tons of these suits. It’s just status to have a waterfront house. They don’t enjoy them.”
“But you did.”
“Damn right. They may have been stopgaps instead of the love of my life kinda guys and that’s okay. Each of them gave me a little something.”
Usually money.
Or tears.
Sometimes both, but mostly tears.
I glanced out my window as we approached the bridge. The mountains loomed with the late summer green dotted with the first hints of fall. The Hudson River widened under us snaking its way into the valley. “You always got your heart broken.”
“It’s better to offer your heart than to keep it locked away, baby.”
I folded my arms over my middle and turned toward her. “Didn’t work out for you so well.”
“I’m happy with my lot in life. I have my freedom and I’ve had amazing men in my life. A few women too.”
My eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”
She shrugged and gave me a wide smile. “Women know what women like. And then sometimes all you need is yourself.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That’s true.”
“Besides, you know all about that.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I covered my face. “We will never speak of that again, thanks.” Having my mother find my glass dildo was about as horrific as it could get.
