Everything Changes

never be alone.”
    Pete comes over and crouches down to join us. “I have trains too,” he says. “Lots of them. And tracks and a bridge and a service depot.”
    “Do they have batteries?” Henry says.
    “Some.”
    Henry nods and sticks out his hand. “Can I have my picture back?”
    I hand him the picture, and the way he folds it like a talisman, with loving precision along its creases, before depositing it back in his pocket brings a lump to my throat.
    “Fine,” Delia says. “Just give me another thousand dollars and we’ll call it even.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?” Matt says.
    “I gave you two hundred yesterday,” I say.
    “And that bought you one more day,” Delia retorts. “I’ve had the kid for over a week. I’ve had to feed him and clothe him, not to mention all the work I missed.”
    “Your deal was with Norm,” I tell her. “Not us.”
    “Listen,” Dave says. “Both parties had better come to an understanding immediately, because I need her ass on that stage in two minutes or my business starts to be affected, and you do not want to start affecting my business. Do you get me?”
    “Fuck this,” Matt says to me. “Let’s get him out of here.”
    “She’s entitled to something for her trouble,” Dave says, planting himself in front of the door.
    “Okay, fine,” I say, pulling out my wallet and going through my bills. “I’ve got one hundred and eighty-three dollars on me. Matt, what do you have?”
    Matt flashes me a look that says
Be real.
    “That’s not acceptable,” Dave says. Apparently, he’s taken over the negotiations for Delia.
    “I’m not a charity,” Delia says. “I’m a businesswoman.”
    “You get paid to show your tits,” Matt says hotly.
    “Fuck you, you little punk!”
    A shouting match erupts between Matt, Delia, and Dave, but I’m watching Henry, who has backed up to the wall, frightened by all the yelling. He stares at me for a few seconds, eyes wide with fear, and then, with no warning, he suddenly runs at me and jumps into my arms, burrowing his face into my shoulder as if he’s done it a million times before. And as I wrap my arms around him for the first time, stroking his back as his curly hair tickles the underside of my jaw, there’s something viscerally familiar about it, like a memory of the future. The argument dies down as Matt and Delia turn to stare at us, and suddenly the room is preternaturally silent.
    “Please,” I say, looking straight at Delia. “Let us take him home.”
    Delia looks at me for a long moment, then shakes her head and grabs the cash out of my fist. “Fine,” she says, and then surprises me by leaning over to plant a kiss on the back of Henry’s head. “Take good care of him.” I turn to Dave, and after a tense few seconds, he yields his position and we exit the dressing room. Matt and Pete flank me like blockers as I walk through the club carrying Henry, who doesn’t lift his head from my shoulder, holding my neck in a death grip until we make it to the parking lot.

    We’re passing Egg Harbor, about a half hour out of Atlantic City. I’m sitting in the back with Henry, who’s fallen asleep in the booster seat, his head against my shoulder, when I suddenly lean forward and hit Matt’s shoulder.
    “Stop the car!”
    “What?”
    “Just pull over,” I say. “Now!”
    “What the fuck?” he says, pulling onto the shoulder.
    “Shh!” Pete says to him, indicating Henry’s sleeping form. “No curse words.”
    “Sorry.”
    I step into the chilly night, staring intently into the woods off the shoulder. I climb the grassy slope, moving diagonally forward, toward a large radio tower. This is the place, I’m certain. I haven’t been back this way since, but I remember that tower rising up over the trees like a dragon against the night sky as they carried me away from the wreck. I move urgently through the trees, looking for broken branches or mangled auto parts, anything to pinpoint the exact location, but in the darkness there’s nothing to be found. Then, in a small clearing, I come upon a tree trunk stripped of its bark at the bottom, the pearl flesh of the tree showing through like an exposed wound. I search the ground around the tree, but there’s nothing there, the woods having expelled or swallowed up any last remnants of the wreckage. I sit down with my back against the tree and look out at the surrounding woods. There’s a rustle to my left, and a rabbit ventures