A Song for the Road by Kathleen Basi (classic literature books txt) 📕

out about it at school! They were terrified. These are your nieces! Did you even think how this might affect your family? Of course not. You just went off half-cocked on a trip across the country, no planning—”

“Hang on,” Miriam interrupted, focusing on the part that would not cause her to lose her temper. “Why would the kids have heard about it at school?”

It might have been the first time Miriam had ever silenced her sister. When Jo spoke again, her voice was much lower. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“It went viral.”

Dicey and Miriam exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Then Dicey leaned over her phone, navigating furiously. “She’s right, Miriam. Holy crap.”

The connection hissed in silence while the word looped in Miriam’s head, viral viral viral viral, like the teacup ride at Disney World. If you didn’t hold onto the wheel, it got completely out of control, centrifugal force plastering you to the wall, powerless over your own body.

“This is exactly why you should be calling off the whole trip,” Jo said, and the edge was back. “If you’d thought about it for half a minute instead of going off half-cocked, you’d never have left home.”

Miriam locked her jaw to keep from responding.

“I-it’s kind of cool, actually,” Dicey ventured into the silence. “Most of the comments are really sweet. Most of them.”

“I’m not looking at comments.”

“But—”

“Not happening, Dicey.”

“Okay,” Dicey said meekly.

“Well, that’s the first thing you’ve said that makes any sense,” Jo said.

Since she’d said almost nothing, that wasn’t saying much. Jo had a way of making Miriam want to run out and do exactly the thing she was told not to do. Jo was the only person in the world who could get that reaction out of her. “Not helpful,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Look.” Jo’s voice softened again. “I know it’s been hard, but this won’t change anything. Just come home. Please. Before anything worse happens.”

Miriam rubbed her forehead, examining her motivations. “No,” she said. “I’m going on. Because it’s what they would have wanted.”

“Mira—”

“Will you please talk to Mom for me?” Miriam asked.

“You need to talk to her yourself.”

“You’re probably right, but—”

“Of course I’m right.”

Miriam counted to three to settle her irritation. “Please, Jo. I’ll call her in a day or two. I promise.”

Jo was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “Fine,” she said. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Fine.”

“Good night then.”

“Bye, Jo.”

Dicey exhaled when the music returned. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Miriam sighed.

“Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Miriam sighed. “Viral, huh. Talia would have loved that. Imagine the stories she could have told her kids about it.”

Dicey dimpled. “Like my mom kicking my dad out of the house wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and black socks, with a slice of anchovy pizza in his hand.”

Miriam chuckled.

“You really don’t want to look at the comments?”

“Nope. What I’d like you to do is tell me about your scrapbooking.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. That’s the point.” Miriam reached over and tapped Dicey’s phone. “Do you do a lot of it?”

“This is my first time. But my mom made each of us a homemade baby book.”

Miriam’s mother hadn’t done anything like that for her. But then, she hadn’t done it for Jo or Brad either. It wasn’t her way. But that didn’t stop Jo from being fiercely protective of Mom. What critical piece of empathy was missing in Miriam? Because Jo was right. It hadn’t even occurred to Miriam to let Mom know what happened in Cincinnati.

She shook her head clear. She was trying to focus on Dicey, not herself. “Are you close to your mom?” she asked.

“Well … let’s just say I had a pretty intense childhood. You don’t have a choice but to get close.”

“Intense in what way?”

“Health stuff.”

“She know about the baby?”

“Yeah.”

Miriam hesitated. “I don’t want to stick my nose in, but … what’s up with the baby’s father?”

“Not in the picture, not gonna be.”

“Okay.”

Dicey fiddled with her blue bracelet. Miriam wondered about the significance of that piece of jewelry. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to judge, okay, church lady?”

Miriam blinked. “Um … okay …”

“I had a work-study job at school, working for a professor in astrophysics, and I was stupid.”

Miriam nodded once; she got the picture. “Um …” Brilliant, Miriam. “How does one … get involved with a professor?”

Dicey snorted. “How does anyone ‘get involved’ with anyone?” She put air quotes around the euphemism. “A little too much alcohol, a little too much ego.”

“I’m assuming he was married?”

“Naturally.” Dicey made a face. “It never occurred to me I could get pregnant. I shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant.”

“Everybody thinks that until it happens.”

Dicey gave her a dirty look. “Anyway, by the time I realized, I was way far along, and he was out at Green Bank for a stint. He didn’t answer my calls for weeks. All I had was a cell number.”

“And he was in the no-cell-signal zone.” Miriam nodded. “So you had to go there to talk to him. I take it he wasn’t interested?”

“The asshole wrote me a check and told me to ‘take care of it.’” Dicey blew out a breath. “I’ll use it to start her college fund. And there you have it. My whole sordid history.”

“I’m sorry.” How would Dicey support herself and her baby? “Will your brothers help you? Like, with taking care of her?”

“Oh, sure. They’ve got kids already. She’ll have cousins by the dozens.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah … she’s gonna need all the help she can get.”

Miriam frowned. It couldn’t be easy to be a single parent, but Dicey’s comment seemed to imply something more.

But Dicey redirected before she could formulate a question. “Anyway, what about you? That was your sister, right?”

Miriam nodded. “Jo’s nine years older than me, and Brad’s seven years older. Nobody’s ever said it, but I think I was probably an ‘oops’ baby. Dad passed away and Mom moved to Albuquerque a couple years ago.”

“You see them often?”

Miriam shrugged. “Holidays.” She felt