“I guess I’m really going this time,” said Zoe, feeling a little overwhelmed and lost; so much was happening so fast.
“Yeah, kiddo,” said her father. “And this time I really mean the fifty-year thing.”
“It’s a deal,” she said.
Valentine limped to the platform and hugged her. “I’m glad we really, finally met,” he said.
“Me, too,” said Zoe. “Will I see you again, in the tree fort?”
Valentine shrugged. “I don’t know. Where we’re going, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get there.” He brightened a little. “Anyway, you don’t need me there anymore. You can take care of yourself.”
She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll always need you.”
Zoe’s father took a coin from his pocket and dropped it into Zoe’s hand. “You know how I told you that some spirits cling to things from life? I liked to pretend that I was above all that, but the truth is, I wasn’t,” he said. “The club where your mother and I met had these drink tokens they sometimes gave to regulars. I had this one with me when I died. Give it to her for me, will you?”
Zoe turned the coin over in her hand. It was penny brown, but as large as a quarter. On one side was a ragged anarchy A in a circle. On the other side were a skull with crossed beer bottles and the words Fuck You Very Much. Zoe grinned, remembering the same words on her mother’s jacket years ago.
“I’ll give it to her first thing when I get back,” she said, slipping the coin into her pocket.
“Time to go, dear,” said Mrs. Somerville.
“But wait,” said Zoe. “What happens to all those people who helped Hecate?”
Valentine, Caroline, and her father all looked at one another. “I have no idea,” her father said. “Some of them probably didn’t want to help her. We all did things we didn’t want to do here. The ones who did side with her, maybe they’ll have to answer for it somewhere, sometime. I don’t know. My guess is they’ll stay right here hiding in the city forever, afraid to move on.” He looked around at the growing crowd. “But it’s not my job to worry about it and it’s not yours. . so fuck them all.”
Caroline gave Zoe a small wave. “You have a good trip home, and a long and lovely life when you get there.”
“Thank you,” Zoe said. She called to her father, “When I come back old and wrinkled, you’ll recognize me because I’ll be the old lady in the Germs T-shirt.”
The bus doors hissed closed and the engine ground to life. Zoe sat up front and slid across the seat to the window. She waved to Valentine and her father as the bus pulled away. It moved slowly through the dense crowd of smiling faces. She turned for a last look at the beach just as they were passing the abandoned amusement park. It looked kind of cool in the sun, she thought. Absynthe would love the place, she thought. Maybe Julie and Laura, too. What was she going to tell them about all this? If she told the truth, they’d think she really was crazy or, worse, showing off by pretending to be crazy. It was a strange kind of problem, she thought. Then the light faded from the windows and the interior lights on the bus dimmed. Suddenly everything was very soft and dark and quiet. For a second it felt like falling, but she wasn’t scared at all.
Twelve
She awoke just as the bus was pulling up outside the liquor store down the street from her apartment house. It was dark out and she saw the night clerk step outside to stare at the bus that had pulled up where there was no bus stop.
“Last stop. Everybody out,” called the driver. The back door opened and Zoe stepped down onto the street. The door closed and bus rumbled away in a cloud of smoke, turned the corner, and disappeared.
Zoe headed for her building halfway up the block. Everything felt weird here. The air. . the acrid street smells and lights assaulted her. Buildings stood straight up and cars hissed by, honking and belching music. Everything was more real, but less so at the same time. She thought of Caroline having to get used to the sun again. She felt like coming home was going to be something like that.
The elevator wasn’t working, so she had to walk up the four flights to the apartment. Standing by her door, she realized she’d lost her keys. And her father’s razor. Except for the clothes she had on, she’d lost pretty much everything she had. There was nothing else to do. She knocked on the door.
It opened halfway on its chain and part of her mother’s face appeared in the crack. Her mother’s eye, the one she could see, was red and rimmed with dark circles, like she hadn’t slept in days. “Zoe?” her mother said. The door closed for a second, then burst open again. Her mother stood there for a moment. Zoe didn’t move, not sure what to expect. Then her mother flung her arms around her, hugging her so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“I knew you were all right. I knew you were going to be all right,” she said.
“It’s good to see you, too, Mom. Can I come in? I’m pretty tired,” Zoe said.
Her mother stepped aside so Zoe could enter the apartment. The living room looked as odd to her as the street outside had looked. Nothing had changed, except for the overflowing ashtrays on every flat surface and the smell of stale smoke. Zoe felt so different, so utterly and irrevocably changed, that it seemed to her that everything else should have changed, too. She shook off the feeling and turned to her mother.
“Hi,” she said feebly. “I’m glad I’m home.”
Her mother still stood by the front door, almost as if she was afraid to approach. Her hands were balled up in front of her mouth, and she regarded Zoe with wide, wet eyes.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“It’s all right,” said Zoe. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks.” Then she added, “But it was a rough couple of days.”
“Couple of days? It’s been a week,” said her mother. “Tomorrow would have been eight days.” She dropped her hands to her sides, but she was still tense and didn’t seem able to move from the door.
Zoe sat down on the edge of the couch. “It didn’t seem that long. Just a day or two, at most.”
“Well, it was that long!” yelled her mother, breaking down into red-faced sobs. She tried to speak, but she had trouble breathing. “I thought you were dead.”
Zoe got up from the couch and went to her. Her mother took a step back.
She held out a hand and after a minute her mother took it, as if she wasn’t sure that what was happening was real. “I’m sorry,” Zoe whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Her mother’s sobbing let up a bit and she stroked Zoe’s head.
“You’re filthy,” said her mother. “You look like you’ve been dragged behind a truck.”
Zoe laughed a little. “Just about.”
“Where have you been for a week?”
“Far away,” said Zoe. “Farther away than I ever meant to go.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can we do this sitting down?” Zoe asked. “I’ve been running for days. I’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“Running? Are you in trouble? Did someone do this to you?”
“Do I look that bad?” Zoe asked. She turned and caught her reflection in the hall mirror. It took her a moment to recognize the young woman looking back at her. This young woman had wild, dirt-caked hair. Her face and arms were covered with cuts and bruises. She still wore Emmett’s baggy clothes over her own. They were torn and the front of her shirt and pants were splattered with blood and Hecate’s ashes.
“Let’s sit down,” Zoe said. She took her mother’s hand and they sat on the couch.
“I know you want to know where I’ve been, what happened to me, but I’m afraid to tell you.”
Her mother let out a short, harsh laugh and took her hand back. “Just say it. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“It’s not that kind of trouble. And all the blood is mine, so you don’t have to worry that I murdered anyone,” Zoe said. “I’m just afraid that if I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me. I haven’t been real good with the truth lately.”