Page 95 of A Better World

“No,” Linda said. “Hip’s in girlfriend land. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. And your dad, he shows his feelings differently. He wants to succeed for all our sakes. He doesn’t have room to think about much else.”

“I know all that,” Josie said, tears falling down her cheeks to her lips. “But isn’t that the same as not liking me?”

“They like you. They love you. They’re just being mediocre relatives right now. I probably shouldn’t judge. I’ve had my selfish phases… I wasn’t mad at you the other night. I was scared,” she said.

“Why?”

“I need you,” Linda said at last. “It’s not fair to tell you that. I’m supposed to tell you that I care about you and I’m trying to reach you because I want to save you or something. That’s what a normal parent would say. My mom and dad used to tell me they needed me, and Ihated it, because it meant I had to take care of them. I never got to be a kid, or a person, really. I was a crutch. They never considered me. So, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to take care of me, but I do need you. I’ve always felt we understood each other. It makes everything okay, when someone understands you. Hip’s busy and you had your finger on something when you said your dad gets away with things. It hit a nerve, I guess.

“It’s wrong I’m telling you this. I know I shouldn’t. I’m sorry already, but I don’t think he’s ever understood me. Feelings aren’t his thing. He’s good in other ways… People aren’t perfect. We have these notions they’re supposed to be perfect, but they’re not. I got scared because since we moved here, I keep losing you. I can’t find you. I don’t know where you’ve gone. I come to your room every night thinking you’ll be there and I won’t be alone anymore. I can’t stand these phonies and I’m pretending. I’m forcing myself so you can live in a better world, and I get home and all I want is to be with all of you. But Hip’s someplace else. He’s bought in. He’s becoming one of them. And your dad’s so haunted by the possibility of failure he can’t see straight. He’s this genius and it’s never worked for him until now. No one ever saw it except the people here. And then there’s you. And I go to you. It’s so scary when you look at me like you can’t stand me.”

She’d been searching for the right words for a very long time. These felt like the opposite of that. Too adult. Too selfish.

Josie unbuckled. Scooted over. “Oh, Mom,” she said. Linda held her tight, like she’d done a long time ago, when her daughter had still been small.

Linda suggested that they turn back around. She didn’t care that much about the snow globe, anyway. But neither wanted to return so soon to PV. They drove on, smelling the dump before they saw it. It wasn’t rotting organic material, like she’d expected. It was chemical: ammonia and burnt protein.

They’d both worn old clothes—jeans and boots with rubber soles. Helping each other, they walked across the modest and very oddgarbage pile. About a half a kilometer around, its mound was only about six meters high. The whole thing was caked in green sludge.

“I feel like an astronaut,” Linda said, trudging through muck that suctioned her feet.

“Whatisthis?” Josie asked. She’d stuffed her hair into a ponytail, and her voice both echoed and dampened through the rubbery gas mask.

“Omnium disposal. But it’s supposed to be separated from the other trash so there’s no contamination. This isnotseparated.”

“That snow globe’s all sad. It’s like: ‘What did I do wrong?’?” Josie said in her old, jokey way. “?‘Why did that mean girl throw me into a toxic waste site?’?” Her mood had picked up since their talk, and as they walked, they stood close. Linda’d missed that closeness, their old banter. She felt lovesick at its return.

“It’s inanimate,” Linda said, game and cheerful. “It’s like: ‘I’m glad I’m not sentient or I’d be worried about the future of my existence.’?”

“It’s like: ‘What is snow, anyway? And why is my representational snow just synthetic?’?” Josie said.

They both looked across the landscape, green goop and garbage. It would be hard to find a small snow globe here.

“I really am sorry, Mom,” Josie said. “It was a spoiled brat thing to do.”

“I’m done caring about it,” Linda answered.

The place was empty and surrounded by emptiness. There wasn’t any organic material here—PV and PVE both composted that more locally. So, birds didn’t swoop to feed. Rats didn’t scavenge. Through the gaps in her mask, it smelled like burning tires and ammonia. It smelled wrong. She thought of those kids, those disease indices, wondered how much contamination was too much.

“Coming here was a mistake. Let’s go,” Linda said. “We can take showers at my clinic.”

Josie ignored her and strode for the center of the pile, where it looked like the most recent truck had deposited its load. This was mostly Omnium material, but also junk like old chairs and bikes and Christmas-present rejects. Household items and bleach, too. So, chlorine. Right here, alongside Omnium and GREEN.

“Stop!” Linda’s panicked voice was raised so Josie could hear it through her mask.

“I’m finding that snow globe,” Josie called back.

“It’s not worth it.”

Josie kept going, traversing the muck. The generally-recognized-as-safe green slurry, chemical-scented muck.

“Screw it, Josie. There’s only one thing here that I want and it’s you.”

They drove to the clinic, used the office bathroom, which had a shower. Linda put all their clothing, including their boots, into Omnium shrink bags like it was a biohazard. Maybe it was. They wore hospital gowns and sat at the staff kitchen table. Both were hungry, but there wasn’t any food.

“We could go to the Quik-Bite, but I think they only take credit,” Linda said.

“How much credit do you have?” Josie asked.

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