him. Eventually, the
social worker found Liza, their new Foster Mom.
On the day he dropped them off at Liza’s, he said he’d never forget them. Lorraine said the same and she wasn’t lying. Dad,
smelling of the great outdoors and cabin sleeping, would never fade. He’d always been a memory. But her mother, with her disheveled
blond hair, was already slipping by. When Lorraine tried to recall her face, it seemed to disappear from view.
When her father drove away and left them there, Lorraine knew she would remember it forever — white smoke trailing out the
back, his left arm stretched out the window, temporarily fluttering, and the car rolling across the driveway, rolling out
of sight.
Lorraine and Kathleen watch an entire day pass in front of their house. By four o’clock, people startcoming home from work. They walk quickly down the sidewalk, stepping over Kathleen’s bare, outstretched legs, their eyes averted.
Lorraine is slumped against the mailbox, one hand covering her face. Kathleen scans the street, hands on her hips. She catches
sight of a truck rounding the corner. It is a white pickup. Lorraine sits up, her heart beating fast.
“Has she come with Dad?” Kathleen says, walking into the road. “Is that her in the truck with Dad?”
In the afternoon sunshine, their father’s truck comes floating by, slowing down in front of their house, then speeding up
again. Lorraine sits rooted to the sidewalk. The white pickup swims in front of Lorraine’s eyes, but she can see right away
there is no one in the passenger seat. Kathleen jumps up and down, behind the car, waving her arms, “Stop! Stop! We’re right
here!” He hits the brakes. Lorraine sees it in slow motion, his head lurching forward then swiveling around, his eyes through
the glass, shocked and alarmed.
Kathleen stands awkwardly in the road, hand raised in an adult gesture. Their father stares through the windshield at them,
uncomprehending. “Well, well,” he says, when he steps out of the truck. He smiles but his face is guarded. “So you’ve come
back to see the old place.”
Kathleen doesn’t move. She is searching the truck with her eyes.
“House is falling apart, isn’t it? We got out just in time.”
A car, pulling out of a driveway, swerves carefully around them.
“It’s a joke,” her father says, his voice low. “Kathleen, I’m joking.”
She nods her head, still looking past him. “We’re out of money,” she blurts out. “Couldn’t even buy an ice-cream cone.”
Lorraine stares at their feet on the sidewalk.
“It’s Mom’s birthday, you know?” Kathleen laughs nervously. “It’s so hard waiting. She won’t drink at all today. I just want
her to hurry up and come.”
Their father looks at her, then out across the street, at the two-story house. He takes Kathleen’s hand. Together, they walk
over to where Lorraine is sitting. Lorraine’s never seen him so dressed up, a tweed jacket and gray slacks. His face, sunburnt
and dry, is dark in the sunlight. When he crouches down and brings his hand to Lorraine’s face, she can see the lines of dirt
in his palm, grainy and deep. “How are things with Liza?” he asks her.
“They’re fine.”
“Liza cooks good food,” Kathleen says. She lifts her pinkie to her mouth, chews a bit of skin, then nods. “She doesn’t know
we’re here.”
“We should call home then. Let her know you’resafe.” A string of cars grumbles past. He looks over at them. “Must be almost a year now since I’ve seen you two. You’re all
grown up.” He scuffs his shoes against the curb, looks at his watch, then sits down. “I don’t get out to the city much any
more. If I get some time off work, I take the ferry across. I drive by the old place, just to make sure it’s still standing
up.”
“Tell us you can’t stay away,” Kathleen says. Her voice sounds distant and mocking. She plucks a handful of grass from the
social worker found Liza, their new Foster Mom.
On the day he dropped them off at Liza’s, he said he’d never forget them. Lorraine said the same and she wasn’t lying. Dad,
smelling of the great outdoors and cabin sleeping, would never fade. He’d always been a memory. But her mother, with her disheveled
blond hair, was already slipping by. When Lorraine tried to recall her face, it seemed to disappear from view.
When her father drove away and left them there, Lorraine knew she would remember it forever — white smoke trailing out the
back, his left arm stretched out the window, temporarily fluttering, and the car rolling across the driveway, rolling out
of sight.
Lorraine and Kathleen watch an entire day pass in front of their house. By four o’clock, people startcoming home from work. They walk quickly down the sidewalk, stepping over Kathleen’s bare, outstretched legs, their eyes averted.
Lorraine is slumped against the mailbox, one hand covering her face. Kathleen scans the street, hands on her hips. She catches
sight of a truck rounding the corner. It is a white pickup. Lorraine sits up, her heart beating fast.
“Has she come with Dad?” Kathleen says, walking into the road. “Is that her in the truck with Dad?”
In the afternoon sunshine, their father’s truck comes floating by, slowing down in front of their house, then speeding up
again. Lorraine sits rooted to the sidewalk. The white pickup swims in front of Lorraine’s eyes, but she can see right away
there is no one in the passenger seat. Kathleen jumps up and down, behind the car, waving her arms, “Stop! Stop! We’re right
here!” He hits the brakes. Lorraine sees it in slow motion, his head lurching forward then swiveling around, his eyes through
the glass, shocked and alarmed.
Kathleen stands awkwardly in the road, hand raised in an adult gesture. Their father stares through the windshield at them,
uncomprehending. “Well, well,” he says, when he steps out of the truck. He smiles but his face is guarded. “So you’ve come
back to see the old place.”
Kathleen doesn’t move. She is searching the truck with her eyes.
“House is falling apart, isn’t it? We got out just in time.”
A car, pulling out of a driveway, swerves carefully around them.
“It’s a joke,” her father says, his voice low. “Kathleen, I’m joking.”
She nods her head, still looking past him. “We’re out of money,” she blurts out. “Couldn’t even buy an ice-cream cone.”
Lorraine stares at their feet on the sidewalk.
“It’s Mom’s birthday, you know?” Kathleen laughs nervously. “It’s so hard waiting. She won’t drink at all today. I just want
her to hurry up and come.”
Their father looks at her, then out across the street, at the two-story house. He takes Kathleen’s hand. Together, they walk
over to where Lorraine is sitting. Lorraine’s never seen him so dressed up, a tweed jacket and gray slacks. His face, sunburnt
and dry, is dark in the sunlight. When he crouches down and brings his hand to Lorraine’s face, she can see the lines of dirt
in his palm, grainy and deep. “How are things with Liza?” he asks her.
“They’re fine.”
“Liza cooks good food,” Kathleen says. She lifts her pinkie to her mouth, chews a bit of skin, then nods. “She doesn’t know
we’re here.”
“We should call home then. Let her know you’resafe.” A string of cars grumbles past. He looks over at them. “Must be almost a year now since I’ve seen you two. You’re all
grown up.” He scuffs his shoes against the curb, looks at his watch, then sits down. “I don’t get out to the city much any
more. If I get some time off work, I take the ferry across. I drive by the old place, just to make sure it’s still standing
up.”
“Tell us you can’t stay away,” Kathleen says. Her voice sounds distant and mocking. She plucks a handful of grass from the
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