Page 85 of A Better World

Josie was in bed, covers pulled up. Her face looked puffy from too much sleep. Maybe too much crying. “I’m tired ofthings,” she said.

“So, you got rid of it all? When?”

“Yesterday,” Josie said in a put-on nasal voice. But when Josie really was sick, her pupils got glazed. Today, they were brown and sharp. Cutting, even.

“It must be at the PV Extension landfill by now,” Linda said.

Josie answered with silence. Early on in motherhood, Linda had interpreted silences like these as challenges to her authority. Now, she knew better. Josie was looking out the window, where the trees wore baptismal white dresses.

“My snow globe?” Linda asked.

Josie blinked, stayed watching the softly breezing trees. Her voice sounded far away, like something angry had taken residence inside her. “I told you. I can’t be bought.”

Tears welled in Linda’s eyes. “I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t understand this at all.”

Josie turned her attention from the swaying, snow-ribboned branches. “I’m just so tired, Mom.”

Linda sat down on the bed beside her. You get used to certain things. You take them for granted. Josie was her happy bug. Josiebounced. She saw now that she’d been in denial. Because clearly, Josie didn’t always bounce.

“Tired of what? There’s so much shit to be tired of.”

Josie didn’t answer. She looked older, more adult, just like Hip. This town had aged them both.

“I’ll start,” Linda said. “I’m tired of trying to figure out how people want me to act and falling short. I’m tired of no one saying what they mean.”

Josie sighed out, looked at Linda. “You know, he’s not as good at math, but he gets the tutor. I’m actually having problems with history, but you don’t even ask.”

“Do you want a history tutor?”

“What’s the point?”

“BetterWorld University? Getting out of here and never coming back?”

“Don’t you understand? I don’t fit! I try. I want to. But I don’t belong.” Josie’s eyes squeezed tight. She was tolerating a pain inside her, trying not to cry out. “You don’tseeme.”

“I do,” Linda said. “That’s not fair. I’m up here every night, lately, trying to get you to talk.”

“No. You treat me like less. You treat me like you treat yourself.” The room was so empty their voices echoed.

“I’m calling bee ess,” Linda said. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I have to be good at everything and I can’t be a problem and Hip can do whatever the hell he wants. You have to be good at everything and you can’t be a problem and Dad can do whatever the hell he wants.”

The words stung, peeling at a hidden truth.

A car horn honked. Linda didn’t know she was mad until she stomped to the window, flung it open. The boys were in the car, eager for their big night out. “Calm yourselves! Give us a second!”

She turned to Josie. “So, are you coming, because you’re obviously not sick.”

Josie glared.

“Fine. It’s too late for you to get dressed, anyway,” she said, even as she was overcome by the urge to stay home, too. To blow off this stupid goddamned party. To sort this out with Josie, even if the sorting involved yelling.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Linda asked, realizing only after she’d spoken that she’d given Josie no space to answer. Russell honked again. Face hot, body shaking with senseless fury, she raised her voice: “You’ve been moping around for months. All I’ve done is try to help, and now you want me to believe it’s my fault? I’m at a loss here, Josie. And my snow globe. Everything I ever came from is dead and gone, and that was all I had left and you knew it.”

Josie’s expression hardened with something larger than anger. Linda was struck by it, her knees weak from the intensity of it, her heart carved out and plopped to the indigo-dyed rug on the floor.

“Fuck you,” Josie said, rage tears sliding down her cheeks.

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