This is all my fault, Mommy says. She’s driving. I’m in the back alone. I don’t know how I didn’t see this before, Mommy says. Ursula, Daddo says. I don’t know I have the energy for this right now. Russ, I’m realizing something. I’m realizing it right now. Think. Other Mommy. Other Daddy. Don’t you see? I made this happen somehow. It’s like... it’s like there’s an invisible pocket or something and everything you do goes into it and then it forces other stuff back out. What are you talking about? I’m talking about comeuppance, Russ. I’m talking about just dues. You don’t deserve this any more than we do, Daddo says. This isn’t your fault. Are you crazy? Yeah, I might be, Mommy says. I just might be. We’ve been on the highway for a long time. There aren’t many other cars. The sun is almost down. It’s almost dark out. But I’m serious, Mommy says. Forever I’ve treated relationships like they’re meaningless. I don’t need to tell you this. Daddo looks back at me like he doesn’t want me to hear this. But things are different now I think. So he doesn’t say anything to me about covering my ears. You know, Mommy says. You of all people know, Russ. I mean... I’ve been so terrible. And because of that, now we have to deal with this. All of this. From this fucking monster to this fucking secret. We haven’t done anything wrong. How can you say that? Sure we have. I’ve taken everything for granted and you’ve enabled it. Come on, Daddo says. I was the other man once, remember? That’s just it, Mommy says. That’s it exactly. Both of us, we figured out ways to ke ep acting terribly, by using these little phrases like “I was the other man once, remember?” And then we just nod and say hey, yeah, you were, and so I guess you deserve to be other-manned too. O, come on, Daddo says. No. Think, Russ. What do we have that I haven’t appreciated for years? I’m serious. We’ve had family. We’ve had food. We’ve had a house. And now it’s all torn apart and haunted because I can’t remember the last time I said thank you to anybody for anything, for the things we had. Instead I was out... looking for other stuff to have. Other people. Other homes. Other beds. This is all my fault. You thanked your mother for helping us. Did I? Yeah.
I see a woman walking along the trees far off the highway. I see dark hair on her shoulders. I’m a terrible mother, Mommy says. And I’m a terrible wife. Do not try to tell me I’m not. When’s the last time I appreciated what we have? Right now it feels like what we had, Russ, and it’s really scaring me. It’s really, really scaring me right now. All right, Daddo says. But you’re also driving us home. So maybe let’s talk about this when we get there. Ah! Mommy says. When we get there. All will be better once we just get back to our house and home. I think I hear something move in the trunk behind me. I look to Mommy and Daddo, but they don’t look back. They’re talking loud. Loud like the lake. People go through stuff, Daddo says. This is life. This is how it works. I don’t think so, Mommy says. I don’t think what we’ve been experiencing is life. Nope. No way. This is just deserts, man. This is retribution. I sent some bad stuff out and some bad stuff came back. Okay, Daddo says. But Bela? You think this is retribution for Bela? No, Mommy says. Bela is an innocent in this. No matter what batshit plan Lois Anthony had. Bela is an innocent. And we’re just dumb enough to have listened to her. Desperate, Daddo says. We’re desperate. There’s a big difference. I hear it again. A sound in the trunk behind my seat. I lean forward because it’s pushing against my back. I see something push against the seat. A fingertip, I think. From the trunk. I don’t know, Mommy says. I’m not into this crap that Lois pushes but... I don’t know, man. Maybe there’s something to the energy you put out and the energy you get back. You’ve been a great mother, Daddo says. Don’t even say what you’re saying. Have I? Have I told you how many times I just wanted to drop her off at a friend’s house and never come back? How about the time you found me drunk at Mark’s place and I was supposed to be watching Bela but I asked Mark’s fuckin’ n ephew Brad to watch her? That kid was eleven, man. Do you have any idea how many times I wished I didn’t have to watch our kid, how many times I wished I was out at the bar, how many times I wanted to be doing anything other than parenting? Daddo looks back at me and he sees I’m looking at the seat and so he looks at the seat but he doesn’t see it because it doesn’t happen while he looks. Bela doesn’t need to hear this, Daddo says. Why not? Mommy says. Thought this was all about sullying our golden child’s innocence, right? My God, what have we done? Desperate, Daddo says again.
The sun is down and every car looks black. Like it’s covered in dark hair. Something pushes from behind my seat. Hey, I say. Doesn’t matter, Mommy says to Daddo. Her voice is loud like it gets when she really means what she’s saying. Totally doesn’t matter. You think every family in every house would react the same exact way we have? No. There are people out there who would’ve known what to do. And if they didn’t know, they would’ve figured it out. But us? O, Russ. We haven’t got a clue. We’re trying. This isn’t like missing a mortgage payment, for crying out loud. It’s about me, Mommy says. Why do you think there’s “Other Mommy”? Think, man. It’s because this Mommy is shit. It’s because this Mommy took everything for granted and cared more about herself than she did her kid and her husband and you know what? Don’t say it, Daddo says. It’s true, Mommy says. She laughs in a mean way. Something kicks against my seat and I turn and try to pull the seat forward a little bit. I can smell her. And the worst part, Mommy says, is that despite everything I’m saying right now? I’m not sure I feel any different. I’m not even sure if I’ve learned my lesson. I pull the seat a little farther out. Hello? I say. You’re under duress, Daddo says. We all are. Literally nothing we’re saying or doing counts right now. None of it matters and none of it is a reflection on the real us. This is traumatic, Ursula, what we’re going through. And nobody, I mean nobody would ke ep it together with the shit we’ve seen. Some would, Mommy says. Some would. Did you say something, Bela? Daddo asks. I don’t answer. Ah man, Mommy says. If I had to do it all over again... what would I do? Not now, Daddo says. We need to get home. Just get us home safely, or I can drive and that’s all we need to think about right now. Mommy laughs meanly again. That’s so you, Mommy says. So fucking you. O, come on, Daddo says. Even now, even now, you have to see the bright side of things. Do you have any idea how much pressure that’s put on me? To do what?
To be dark. Okay, now you’re just talking crazy. O, really? And meanwhile, while I was parenting our kid, you were becoming Bela’s best friend. And that’s bad? No. But also yes. Balance. You are light. So who’s dark? See? Our exit is coming up. I’m tellin’ you, Mommy says. There’s something here. An answer to all this. And I’m just not seeing it. Nobody deserves what we’ve been going through. Maybe some people do, Mommy says. I look into the little bit of space where I pulled the seat out. So now we go home, Mommy says. Here. Our exit. Now we’re close. And then what? I bring my face closer to the open space. I can’t see anything in the trunk. Just dark. No smell. We work and we live and we love and we carry on because that’s what strong people do, Daddo says. We’re not strong, Mommy says. We always have been. Mommy makes a turn and we’re close to our house now because I recognize the Dream Cream on the corner. I love you both, Mommy says. And I’m sorry I haven’t thanked the world for anything in a long time. She turns again and I push the backseat back to where it’s supposed to be. We’re on our street. There’s our house. Mommy pulls into the driveway. Grandma’s car is here. What? Mommy says, seeing Grandma’s car. I texted her, Daddo says. Thought we could use a friend when we got here. I open the door right away and then Mommy and Daddo get out of the car and Grandma gets out of her car, too. She walks over to me. Hi, Bela, she says. Are you really my grandma, Grandma Ruth? She doesn’t look to Mommy and Daddo when she says, Absolutely. Then the four of us are in the driveway, facing the house. Just one little family on one little street. Facing the house.
And everything that happens inside.