It’s Mother’s turn, then mine. She puts down six cards and says, “I’m going from New Orleans to Miami,” then lays down six red train cars, placing each on their allotted space.

  “That’s not fair!” Henry complains. “I need that route!”

  Mother continues to place the red plastic train cars on the board.

  “Hey! Listen to me, you fucking witch!” Henry says, then gets up and goes to Vernon.

  Mother stops, looks at Henry, and smiles. “Come now. I just brought you so many beautiful plants for your birthday. Surely a witch wouldn’t buy you things so special, would she?”

  Finch meows while she removes Mother’s red trains from the board and replaces them with Henry’s black ones.

  “Shut up, witch!” Henry says from behind Vernon, who has his gold cross out now and is holding it in front of his chest like he’s in a movie.

  Right then, Mother stands up slowly and backs her way to the tube in the corner—lets herself in and sits on her chair, closing the door behind her and pressing the green button inside the capsule. We meet eyes for a moment before the System drops her down to basement level, where her bedroom is.

  Tears pour from my eyes, and I can’t keep them in. I turn my head so the others won’t see me. I act like I’m cold and use the hood of my hoodie to hide my face.

  “Are you good?” Henry asks.

  I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say. I’m staring at an empty tube where my mother has been confined for six years when she’s not sent out to be a rock star who screams about freedom into a microphone. She is a walking contradiction. Until now I thought that meant she was a liar, but now I see that the tubes are safer. She walked right in. Closed her own door. Lowered her own capsule. Escaped. Us.

  She escaped us. On her last night home.

  I don’t know her at all. It’s so disturbing I can’t even make up a lie for my little brother as I hide inside my hoodie. I hear them cleaning up the game. Someone opens a cabinet door. Someone else gathers empty beer bottles. Henry stares at the back of my head, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m devastated,” I say, slightly wry.

  “We can play again tomorrow,” Henry says. “Maybe you’ll win that time!”

  When I can finally turn around and act not-devastated, I aim toward the hall to head down to Mother’s bedroom but Vernon gestures for me to sit down and hands me a fancy cut-crystal glass with an inch of brown liquid in it.

  “Cognac,” he says. “Calms the nerves.”

  Clorox Test

  I land back on my bedroom floor next to the record player, headphones on my ears. My nerves are calm. The last song on the A side of Safe House is “Clorox Test.”

  “Clorox Test” has a subtitle. A song about unstable chemical compounds.

  It’s a punk rock ballad, and Mother’s voice is strong but wavering—a mix between Patti Smith and Sinead O’Connor.

  I have never felt more special / his spotlight is divine / every minute together / his heart and soul are mine. / He talks about our future / how old we’re going to get / he asks me if I want some tea / he asks me if I’m wet.

  Soulmates never part, you know.

  Soulmates are the best.

  See if you’re a soulmate now.

  Take the Clorox Test.

  Let me take away your power / and take back all my love / give me more I demand it / I need help / I can’t stand it / I get all of you now / stop acting so nice / I’ve told all my friends / you’re colder than ice.

  Soulmates never part you know.

  Soulmates are the best.

  See if you’re a soulmate now.

  Take the Clorox Test.

  When you test the door and it’s open / when you test the door and it’s closed / when you test the door you might notice / your friends are all opposed / to this creep who took you over / where’s your brain? what do you think? who are you now? / If you even blink, he will say that you are the problem.

  You are the problem.

  You are the problem.

  You are the problem.

  He will warn you all the while—punctuated by a shove.

  He will tell you that it’s all your fault for being difficult to love.

  You are interiorly bleach. Nothing left of you now. May as well just bleed / make the world white / make the fog rise / bleach it all to clean and clean and clean and clean and clean and clean and clean…the music fades out. It’s haunting.

  I don’t know if it’s accurate, but the more I listen to this song, the more it’s not about bleach at all. I think Mother was being sarcastic when she wrote that title. Unstable compounds! I can’t wait to meet her.

  ACT I, SCENE 5

  EXT. DRIVEWAY—EARLY MORNING, NEXT DAY

  JANE, HENRY, VERNON, MARTA, and MILORAD are all around MINA as she says goodbye. The Placenta tour bus has been loaded with her bags and is about to head out.

  Mina hugs Henry and Jane and whispers something to each of them. She hugs Marta.

  MINA

  (to Henry) I will miss you so much! (moves to Jane) And you, love. Oh. I hate leaving you two. So MUCH!

  Mina cries. Jane and Henry do not.

  MINA (CONT’D)

  And goodbye, dear Marta. And Milorad, our garden warrior.

  Mina hugs Marta and then tries Milorad, but Milorad rubs her arm awkwardly instead of a hug. Mina looks at Vernon, and Vernon leans in for a hug but gives a cold European double-kiss and says…

  VERNON

  Ciao.

  Vernon walks inside to the study, where he pours himself a drink. Jane, Henry, and Marta stay to wave Mina off. Milorad stands a few feet away, with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky.

  JANE (waving)

  Goodbye, Mother! Play it loud!

  MINA (through bus window)

  I’ll send you postcards!

  Henry waves, but looks to the sky, the same as Milo.

  The bus pulls away from the curb, and Henry and Milorad head to the garden. Jane goes inside and finds Vernon in the study, downing liquor from a cut-crystal glass.

  The BAND arrives in the study from the kitchen, dressed in foam postcard costumes.

  Song: “Postcards”

  Composer notes: Very fast, intermittent yelling—think “If I Were a…I’d” by Fishbone.

  JANE

  SEND ME A POSTCARD FROM

  MONTANA

  INDIANA

  LOUISI-FUCKIN-ANA

  FROM ALASKA

  NEBRASKA

  MINNESOTA

  NORTH DAKOTA…

  SEND ME A POSTCARD FROM

  SONOMA

  TACOMA

  OKLA-FUCKIN-HOMA

  FROM AUSTIN

  AND BOSTON

  FROM MONTEREY

  TO SAN JOSE

  WHERE EVERYTHING IS

  A-OKAY

  SEND ME A POSTCARD.

  MAMA, SEND ME A POSTCARD—

  BUT THEN COME HOME

  TO MARTA’S MASHED POTATOES

  MILORAD’S FRESH TOMATOES

  AND ME.

  AND ME.

  AND ME ME ME ME ME.

  Lady’s Maid

  “I’d like to try some more suitors,” I say to Vernon, who is sipping a second drink before ten in the morning—likely celebrating Mother’s departure.

  “Peyton wasn’t even close to your league,” Vernon says. “I need some time to interview.”

  “I’ll soon grow out of the clothing you got me on my sixteenth,” I add.

  He looks up from his phone, where Finch is barely responding to his texts. Two words here. Three words there.

  “I can’t wear them around here,” I say. “I need suitors to wear them.”

  “Of course,” he says. “I’ll get on it.”

  “It can’t just be them coming here either. No boy wants to just sit around with a girl’s father,” I say. “No offense.”

  “Mmm. Of course,” he hums.

  “I’ll need Gemma to help.”

  “Yes, yes,” he says, typing.

  I kiss him on his head. “Thanks!” Then I go to my room where Safe House is still on the turntable. I get into bed with the record sleeve and the lyrics. I read the songs as if they are a novel. The whole thing feels like it’s missing the most important chapter. Something about it makes me want to cry a wholesome, teenage river.

  Postcards

  Postmarked October 22, 2024

  A Photograph of Sunset Over Las Vegas

  Dear Henry and Jane,

  I can’t believe I’m on tour again. After all that time at home, I admit I got used to seeing you every day, even though I’m not allowed to touch you. I hope you’re doing well with school! Henry, try not to worry about math. It will either become clear or it won’t—and in the end, algebra isn’t all that important. Jane, I hope you are reading a good book. I just read Every Day by David Levithan and it was really great. I will be in Nevada for three days and then off to Portland and Seattle. I miss you both very much. Love, Mom

  Postmarked October 23, 2024

  A Black-And-White Photograph of a Forties Starlet in an Old-Style Bikini and Cat Glasses

  Dear Jane and Henry,

  Last night’s opening show was wild! We sold out the arena, which is small but that’s still a big deal. I want you guys to meet Anvil, our opening act. Marta and the lead singer, Davy, have been an item for a long time. I’m not sure if you know that about Marta. Anyway, Davy is a great guy and Anvil lyrics are all about how your generation is going to have to clean up the mess we all made. Their drummer is the fastest I’ve ever heard. Even faster than Mackie Jayson from Bad Brains! Anyway, I miss you. The woman on the front of this postcard is Davy from Anvil’s grandmother. More soon. Love you, Mom

  Postmarked October 25, 2024

  A Classic Vegas Postcard of the Main Strip of Casinos

  DEAR JANE AND HENRY!

  I CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE THIS TOWN. I MISS YOU BOTH SO MUCH! LET’S ARRANGE A PHONE CALL SOON, YES? YOU CAN TELL ME ABOUT YOUR STUDIES AND I CAN TELL YOU WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE WOKEN UP FOUR TIMES PER NIGHT BY DRUNK PEOPLE KNOCKING ON YOUR HOTEL DOOR.

  Henry—tell me where you decided to plant your birthday bulbs! Jane, your father tells me you’ve decided to try some more suitors. Be safe and remember you don’t have to settle. I love you both! Mom

  LESSON THREE: HOW TO END A SHITTY DATE

  Various dates throughout November

  Suitor #22: Jefferey from My Old School

  Jefferey from my old school has grown quite a bit. He’s almost six feet tall and his face is no longer cherry red and flaky. He arrives in a car loaned to him by his father. He is wearing a pair of khakis and a long-sleeved polo shirt. When I see this from where I’m spying in front of Henry’s bedroom window, a growl forms in my throat.

  Gemma says, “He’s awfully handsome.”

  “If you think so,” I say.

  “For a boy, he walks with grace,” she says.

  “Who needs grace?”

  Gemma looks at me funny. Then she tells me to stand up straight. We go back to my room, and she powders my nose and fixes a few strands of my hair. I decide to change my outfit. I wear black turtleneck and black tights and a camouflage miniskirt with a pair of knee-high shiny black boots.

  “You should probably wear that chain necklace you have,” Gemma says.

  When I leave my room, I thank her, and she says, “I love dressing you. It’s one of my favorite jobs around here.”

  “Makes me feel like a weird Victorian asshole,” I say.

  “Well, I like it so there’s no need to feel weird. You look great! Let’s go meet this graceful suitor, yes?”

  I head down the stairs, Gemma follows ten paces behind me.

  Vernon loves Jefferey. Their conversation becomes so boring I would rather do anything else but listen to it. Summer jobs. Golf handicaps. Mutual country club acquaintances. When Vernon says, “And a snappy dresser!” I can’t hold in my laugh.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say, noting the only difference between them is the color of their polo shirts.

  There is uncomfortable silence.

  “We’re going to be late to the movie if we don’t leave now,” Jefferey says.

  “Of course,” I say.

  I nod to Gemma, and she grins and raises her eyebrows. Vernon shakes Jefferey’s hand.

  We get to the theater and Jefferey drops me off at the doors and goes to park. I watch him as he pulls into a parking space and then backs out and repeats that several times before he is perfectly centered.

  I walk to the concession stand. I pick up a box of Swedish Fish and wait for Jefferey. When he comes in, his cheeks are back to the color of eighth grade and he’s wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

  “Grab me a large popcorn!” he says as he rushes through the lobby. “Extra butter. And a large drink! Oh! And some Milk Duds! I gotta pee. Don’t forget to buy tickets!”

  I start walking toward the exit before he’s even fully in the bathroom. Two sets of doors later, I’m in the cold evening air, walking down the country road that eventually leads to the small municipal airport. Mother flies in and out of there all the time. When I was little, before Mother was locked into the System, Milorad used to take me with him to pick her up. The bathroom has a fascinating motion-activated sink that washes and dries your hands all in the same place.

  Postmarked October 26, 2024

  Picture of Portland, Oregon

  Dear Jane and Henry,

  Portland is such a great city. I can’t wait to bring you here one day so you can see how cool it is. Best grits I ever ate. We sold out two shows. The crowds are really lovely—they knitted us hats! Matching hats! Like—on the second night, we wore the matching hats. I really love the songs on this album and I’m grateful I get to sing them every night. I hope to talk to you on Halloween. I wonder what you’re dressing up as this year. I will be doing our Seattle Halloween show dressed as a foam triceratops. Enjoy the view from the patio for me. All the leaves must be turning now. Love you, Mom

  Suitor #23: Robert from the Country Club

  Gemma dresses me in a very preppy-punk ensemble—a plaid skirt, schoolgirl style; black tights; and ankle-high slip-on fat-soled boots. Button-down white shirt, not tucked in.

  “I think we should tuck it in,” I say.

  “I think it would ruin the whole look. Just add this,” she says, and hands me a sort-of necktie.

  “Feels a bit too schoolgirl for me,” I say.

  She looks me up and down. “Hmm.”

  We hear a car arrive. Gemma goes to Henry’s window and then comes back to my room. “Take off the shirt. We’ll trade it for this.” She hands me an oversized faded black sweater.

  “My favorite,” I say.

  “Good to be comfortable, right?”

  She looks at my makeup—I went for eyeliner times three, with curlicues at the corners—nods and tucks my hair behind my right ear.

  Then we head down the steps to meet Robert.

  I thought I’d like him when he arrived in black jeans and a soft gray sweater. He wears a pair of Doc Martens shoes, and his jeans are rolled up just a little so I can see his soft gray socks, slouching down over his ankles. Vernon asks him all sorts of Vernon questions—how his schooling is going, what his golf handicap is these days, where he’s thinking about going to college. All the time Vernon asks him things, Robert seems shy and he smiles at me as if he knows Vernon is a knob.

  Then he speaks.

  “What’s that?” he asks as he points to the tube in the corner of the study.

  Vernon says, “Marta built a hell of a fire tonight, didn’t she? Almost can’t feel the cold.”

  Robert looks at me and I shrug. He asks, “I’m sorry. You didn’t hear me. What’s that big tube?” He points.

  Vernon dismisses us and Robert drives me, in his own car, to a small jazz concert he bought tickets for. I feel like a beat poet. I’m glad I’m wearing my favorite sweater.

  He bought the tickets. Let me stress that.

  A big step up from Jefferey.

  It’s in a club in Lancaster city—like, a bar. No one asks for ID or anything like that. I assume since it’s a gig, maybe they aren’t serving alcohol. We get the table just to the right of the stage, front row. It’s waiting for us with a Reserved sign on it.

  Robert holds my chair out, I sit. He sits, looks at me, and smiles.

  Robert is not a good-looking young man. He is, if I picked one word, unembellished. I am very glad he paid.

  “I heard about how at your house there’s some kind of big iron lung or something,” he says.

  “Oh yeah? Who told you that?”

  Robert looks shy. “Like—it’s just a thing people know, I guess.”

  “Oh.” This is news to me. However, I’ve been stuck in my house for the past five years. Everything is news to me. “What’s an iron lung?”

  “A thing that helps people breathe, I think. They don’t really use them anymore. I mean, I think. I don’t know.”

  “So why would we have one in our house?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you only come on this date to look around my house?”

  “No!” he says. “I really like you.”

  “You’ve never met me.”

  “I know your dad.”

  “Yeah.”