I let my head rest on the car window and watch the mountains spring into view. I almost miss my new stepfather—he had seemed interesting, unlike the others. Six marriages this year. Six mother-daughter trips to nowhere.
Mom veers off the road. She kills the engine, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, and checks her mirrors to make sure we’re alone.
“Wait here while I bury him,” she says as she pops the trunk. Her eyes are as focused as when we used to hide from my real dad, but these days they are bright with happiness.