Drives Like a Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

daughter, and she used to tell everyone that she would be a historian someday, too. In spite of their arguments, they'd been close through Jessica's high school years. But college in Ann Arbor was too nearby. Lydia would drop in for unannounced visits and call every day, often in the evening when Jessica had work or was on her way out with friends. Her mother would complain about Cy or money, subjects frequently entangled, and ask a thousand questions about Jessica's life. Unable to resist, almost wincing as she spoke, Jessica would answer. Lydia had a way of getting her to spill the details.
    Her mother's presence had become especially overwhelming when Jessica lived back home after college, hoping to save a little money. Lydia seemed to be everywhere, and the more Jessica tried to get away—working longer hours at Clean Water Action, taking a second job at a bookstore just to stay out of the house—the more her mother pushed to be included. She wanted Jessica's friends to talk to her too, and at times she invited them to dinner without saying she'd done so. They'd appear at the front door, and Jessica would fume—feeling, increasingly, that she had no choice but to remove herself physically from her mother's sphere. Now she worked at an organic grocery in Eugene, Oregon, stocking shelves, scanning herbal extracts, weighing bok choy, bulk grains, and broccoli. Perhaps she and Lydia were too much alike—a problem, Jessica had to admit as she switched off the bathroom light, that she had gone clear across the country to avoid.
    Downstairs in the kitchen she turned over Lydia's note and considered what to write in reply. It was just like her mother to turn on the melodrama at a time like this.
    Davy came into the room, with that same distracted, bleary-eyed expression he'd worn since yesterday. "What are you writing?" He looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse.
    "Oh, nothing," Jessica said. "But try to tell me Mom's note isn't a plea for attention."
    "Come on, Jess. This isn't easy for her. Just because we're all pissed at Dad doesn't mean we should take it out on Mom."
    Jessica was about to say, "I'm not pissed at Dad," then stopped herself. She knew there was more to the note than Davy was willing to admit. Often enough when Lydia grew frustrated with Jessica she'd say, "I've reached the end of my rope," then get into the car and drive off, just long enough for the kids to worry. After a while the phone would ring. "Where are you?" they'd ask. "Does it matter?" Lydia would say. Then Ivan and Davy would talk Jessica into apologizing, and the kids would follow the old ritual of coaxing their mother home. "Back when I am" was another version of "I've reached the end of my rope." The message was equally clear:
I've gone for a drive, if you care. Your father may be getting married today but who knows where I might be or when, if ever, I might return.
    Jessica crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. Better not to respond, she decided.
    Sometime after she and Davy left the house and drove in silence to Royal Oak to pick up Ellen's parents, Jessica had a shiver of guilt for being angry with her mother.

    "So they take us for a couple of invalids, can't drive ourselves," Casper barked when they arrived. He answered the door in a blue dress shirt and pink boxer shorts. "Listen to this, M.J.," he called toward the back of their spacious condo. "Ellen sent these nice young people to be our chauffeurs." He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a certain elegance despite his big glasses and pale skinny legs. "My wife complains about my eyesight. Don't listen to her. I'm telling you, I see fine." He gestured toward Jessica. "You, for example. You are very beautiful."
    M.J. came into the foyer in a lacy black dress. Long, pearly beads hung around her neck. "He's right about that," she said in a slight accent that Jessica hadn't been able to place the night before. "You are great-looking children." Since she stood no