"Something's really, really wrong with Mom," Jesse said, and he took a deep audible breath.
Steve glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "What happened?"
"There's a lot she doesn't remember, Dad," Barbara said, her chest feeling heavy as the image of her mother standing in the living room with that terrified look in her eye flashed through her mind.
"Yeah, like she doesn't even know who we are," Sara piped up, "she doesn't even know what an iPad is."
"Jesus," their dad said under his breath. His jaw jutted forward and then back. His thinking face.
"I don't think she wants us anymore." Jesse's voice was low, but they all heard him.
"Of course your mother wants you," Steve said, his eyes flicking up to his rearview mirror. "She loves all of you more than you could ever know. Your mom's had a shock and her memories have been compromised, but they'll come back. We need to be patient, take things slow." He smiled tightly. But Barbara could see the uncertainty in her dad's profile, his brows stabbing together. He doesn't know, she thought. No one knows. It's not just amnesia like Erica said.
The last time I was here, I was your age.
She could hear her mom's words in that strange high voice of hers, snaking through her mind like fingers of smoke, a warning.
Traffic was building in the opposite direction from where they were going. It was only five in the evening, yet dark enough for headlights.
"Tera's ordering up some pizza," their father said, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the somber mood that had enveloped all of them.
"I don't want any pizza," Jesse grumbled. "Is Laird going to be there?"
"You know he will be." Their father's tone turned taut with familiar tension that came with Jesse's rejection of his girlfriend and her four-year-old son. Barbara turned around in her seat to assess Jesse. He was making a fish face, sucking in his cheeks so his lips jutted out.
"What?" He said, catching Barbara watching him.
"You need to stop being so mean to them, Jess. Tera and Laird are really nice. Tera goes out of her way to be kind to you."
Jesse rolled his eyes. "Laird is annoying. He asks way too many questions. He's always getting into my things, asking me dumb stuff, like why do I wear dresses if I'm a boy."
"Most boys don't wear dresses," Steve said. "Laird's just trying to understand, it's nothing personal."
"Whatever," Jesse hissed.
Barbara shot their father a look. He didn't need to put it that way. The comment colored Jesse's choice of style in a negative light. Their father pretended to understand the different forms of expressing gender identity, but Barbara knew he didn't. His disappointment showed through in the frown he got whenever his eyes landed on Jesse. Or the way he made a big deal out of Laird. Tera's son was a gender traditional boy, in all the ways Barbara's father and her grandparents could relate to. Laird loved machines, big trucks and skateboards. Laird liked climbing up on anything that he might topple off of and sprain an ankle or break an arm. In essence, Laird was the son their father had always wanted and never had until now, making Jesse jealous. Barbara watched the gate slide open to their circular driveway with two garages and a carefully landscaped front yard. The back yard to her father's house was not much bigger than the front. The majority of the lot was taken up by the modern coastal home, a source of mild financial strain for him. “Steve bit off more than he could chew,” Dora had once said of the place. It was two stories of austere white stucco squares and windows, a hulking opulent structure with an eye toward the ocean. All of the rooms were tall, open and spacious. The kitchen boasted gleaming, modern white porcelain countertops and blue stonewashed floors that expanded into the dining room and living room. A floating staircase led up to the five bedrooms, all carpeted in off white Berber. Each bedroom had its own bathroom. The house had every convenience, even a little black and white tiled bathing nook for the dog near the laundry room.
Tera had a rottweiler, a powerful, muscular specimen with gleaming black fur, named Sheena. Sheena ate organic raw meat with bits of veggies added to it, ordered from an online pet store. Laird and Sheena were the same age, and the dog kept a protective eye on her young charge, which made Jesse a bit skittish around her. But while Sheena kept an eye on Laird, Barbara kept an eye on Sheena. Barbara had to make sure that Jesse felt safe because, most of the time, their father was oblivious when it came to his new little family and the family he already had, and some of the awkward dynamics that went on.
Barbara never really quite got used to this glamorous house they lived in for three days every other week. It was too big and modern, everything hard, cold and sleek. It didn't matter that her bedroom had floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows, offering a view of the white sand beach and expanse of ocean only a walk away. It didn't matter that she had her own luxury bathroom and 32-inch flat screen sitting on the shelf before her bed with subscriptions to everything under the sun. Or that Tera cooked fantastic organic vegan meals sprinkled with raw food dishes. There was something about the place that felt sterile and a bit boring to Barbara, never mind that, other than walking to the beach, there was nothing much to do in her dad's neighborhood off West Channel Road in Santa Monica. It wasn't the fun part of the town, more the I'm-going-to-keep-to-myself-because-I'm-too-wealthy-to-mingle part of town. Every other weekend for three days was about as much as Barbara could take of the place. Besides, it wasn't like they were spending loads of
