As Willow dreamed of getting to Manhattan, Willow saw her mother everywhere. In every willow tree she drove by. Every juice box she jammed her straw into. Every word she circled in her book of word searches. Every spoonful of ice cream, which were now few and far between. She missed her so desperately in all of those places. And whenever she felt that pang of missing her mother, she would imagine her mother in a loose-fitting floral-printed dress dancing around her apartment. She would imagine her stirring a big bowl of spaghetti as she bopped her head back and forth to “Little Red Corvette.” She would imagine her scribbling in her black notebook with her knees tucked into her chest in a pile of colored pencils. She pictured her doing all the things she used to watch her mom doing.
But as time pressed forward, those full images of her mother started disintegrating in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t remember exactly how she crossed her legs when she sat on the floor. Or what shade of red her lipstick was. Or whether her hair fell to the right or left. Or what her favorite track on the Rumors album was.
Willow had woven together an intricate image of her mother, and now the small pieces of thread were starting to fray. The whole image was falling apart. The whole vision of what it might look like for Willow to insert herself into that image again. And as it all grew fuzzier, Willow began to panic. And from time to time, the hope in her heart would flicker.
But with each drip of doubt, the need to fill in those gaps intensified. Because the only way to have her real mother in her mind again would be to actually feel her. Ring her doorbell, see her face, and then feel her. Willow wanted to feel her. And she wanted to feel her now.
Willow didn’t know it, but she got this fiery determination from her father. When Rex and Willow Thorpe wanted something, their blood ran thick with it. Their minds and bodies were taken over.
But Willow and Asher still didn’t have enough money in their piggy banks or from their weekly allowance or failed bake sales. But she wanted her mother and she wanted her now. Now. Now. Now. She wanted to see her mother now. She felt entitled to it. And it had been long enough. And the first thing she thought of was the top drawer of Dad’s office. The drawer of Dad’s office with the ones and the fives he would pull out after Sunday allowance. Surely there would be enough cash in there to make up the difference.
But Rex was always popping in and out of his office. It would be impossible for Willow to sneak in there with 100 percent certainty that her father wouldn’t see. So she would recruit her brother. Asher would ask Rex to play a game of catch. And while they were outside, Willow would sneak into that drawer.
But when Willow shared the plan with Asher, he twisted his face right up.
“No way, Willow. I’m not stealing!”
“Well, you won’t be stealing, technically. You’ll just be playing catch or something,” Willow explained hopefully.
“I don’t like it. I weally just don’t and I’m not gunna do it.” Asher folded his arms. He even tried puffing his chest out a little bit.
That accidental w that usually warmed Willow’s heart had no effect on her.
“Asher, you’re doing it.”
“No way, Jose.” Asher closed his eyes and whipped his head back and forth, blond hair half a turn behind.
“Yes way.”
She grabbed Asher’s arm while she did it. Asher immediately stopped twisting and looked right into his sister’s eyes. He was trying to see what was happening behind them. What foreign things were swirling around in her body. What made her eyes go so wide like that. What caused all those sores on her arms. What had forced her to grab his arm so hard.
But he saw nothing. Just her big, brown, serious eyes.
“Ow, Willow,” Asher said, rolling over a lump in his throat. “Why did you gwab me? Why awe you acting like this?”
Full tears were now streaming down his cheeks. They were so full that Asher didn’t even have to blink for them to fall over his eyelashes and down onto his chin.
“Why can’t you just love Dad? Why can’t you be happy hewe? Please, Willow. Please just twy.”
Tears. More tears. More big, heavy, wobbling tears. All the way down his cheeks.
“I need you to twy. Please. Dad twies. I see him doing it and you don’t even notice. You just keep on hating him but please just love him. Please, Willow.”
Willow didn’t know what was coming out of Asher’s mouth. And it could not be said for certain that Asher understood the profundity of the things he was saying either. But they were said. And now Willow’s heart hurt too.
As Asher sat with his legs crossed on the floor with his wet eyes in his palms, pleading desperately with his sister, Willow realized for the first time that everyone in Dad’s house was in pain. Real pain.
But in that moment, Willow thought her pain was the greatest. And she knew a way to end that pain and nothing would stop her.
She scared her classmates. Kept secrets from her father. And today she manipulated her brother.
And with far less coaxing than Willow imagined would be required, Asher, doing what little brothers always do, eventually conceded to his sister. And, just as Willow had planned it, Rex thought he was enjoying the simple pleasure of playing ball with his son while his daughter stole forty-six dollars in cash from the top drawer of his office.
* * *
On Thursday evening after school, Willow didn’t even consider how much she sounded like her father when she tossed a black JanSport backpack at Asher and said, “Put everything you need for Mom’s in here.” It didn’t occur to Willow that, just like there was no amount of things Willow could have stuffed into those two boxes that would make her feel at home at Dad’s house, perhaps a backpack stuffed with a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, a Green Lantern action figure and a blankie wouldn’t be enough for Asher to feel safe on his journey to Mom. Or comfortable once he stepped through her door. But Willow helped her brother arrange things in his backpack anyway.
Willow tucked in Asher under his superhero-themed blanket. She kissed him on the softest part of his cheek and rubbed his silky blond hair.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Willow said to her brother, whose eyes were closing.
And then Willow tucked a pair of purple leggings and another black T-shirt with a silver horseshoe on it into the bottom of her bag. She propped her word search book on top of the pile of clothes, and twirled the cords of her purple headphones around her new CD player. She closed the two snaps and tugged on the strings and put all of the cash she and Asher collected into the front pocket.
She looked down at her backpack and felt so ready. So ready to see Mom again. So ready for music and laughing and cooking and singing and hugs and kisses and love. So ready for everything to feel good again.
She thought all about it as she got into bed. But she couldn’t sleep.
When Willow’s alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., she was wide-awake and staring at her backpack. Her mind had been swirling with logistics all night.
Walk to bus station. Buy ticket. Board bus. Get off at correct stop. Hail taxi. Give driver address. Ring doorbell. See Mom. Hug Mom. Sink into Mom.
Walk to bus station. Buy ticket. Board bus. Get off at correct stop. Hail taxi. Give driver address. Ring doorbell. See Mom. Hug Mom. Sink into Mom.
Walk to bus station. Buy ticket. Board bus. Get off at correct stop. Hail taxi. Give driver address. Ring doorbell. See Mom. Hug Mom. Sink into Mom.
She played out her plan over and over again in her mind. Every ounce of Willow’s being was ready to move, ready to go, ready to burst. She could hardly keep the corners of her mouth from turning up toward her eyes even though they were scrunched closed.
Before her alarm could even make a second beep, Willow was out of bed. She tiptoed into her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were large and determined. Her shoulders looked strong. There was finally some pink in her cheeks. She looked ready. She looked different.
With every action she moved through that Friday morning, she cataloged every step, every movement, every breath as she considered that this could be the last time doing all these things at Dad’s. The last time turning off that alarm. The last time looking in that mirror. The last time walking by the morning, and afternoon, and evening checklist on her wall. The last time walking quietly down the hallway on the way to wake her brother up. Because in less than twelve hours, she would be at 299 East 82nd Street with her hand around a cream soda and her head against Mom’s shoulder.
Willow gently pressed into Asher’s room and tapped his shoulder with increasing force until her brother rolled over and opened his big, blue eyes.
“It’s time, Asher. Come on, wake up. Before Dad does.”
Asher rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He was still gripping his tattered blue blankie between his pinkie finger and palm.
Willow wondered if her brother had the same dreams about waking up in Mom’s bed in matching pajamas. She wondered if he was also thinking about what flavor ice cream the three of them would share tonight. Whether he believed that Willow would get him to 299 East 82nd Street. Whether he believed Mom would be there at all.
But Willow had enough belief and determination for the both of them. And after only a few minutes, Asher and Willow were standing downstairs by the back door with their backpacks strapped on. They stared at each other for a moment. They stared at each other and locked eyes as so many things flowed between them. Trust and apprehension. Fear and loyalty. Hope and love.
And then, before either of them could change their minds, Willow grabbed Asher’s hand and burst through the door.
Asher turned around and gave a full hand, five fingers outstretched, wave to Dad’s house as Willow dragged him along through the presunrise darkness. The walk to the bus station felt long as each of them watched one foot and then the other press into the ground. With each step, it got a little lighter outside. And with each step another few drops of dew evaporated into the spring air. And with each step, their pulses slowed.
Love had prepared their hearts for the journey, but now inertia had taken over their legs.