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The afternoon light had started to drop.
The bulk pack of toilet paper was light but unwieldy. With both arms around it she couldn't see much in front of her. She'd said she would go ahead and load the car—Zia had just found something and stopped, crouching over a patch of ground cover at the edge of the lot, and Yael had crouched down beside her to look, and Victor was standing next to them.
Wanda walked alone toward the far row.
There was a particular brightness to a parking lot in spring. The asphalt that had looked dull all winter caught the afternoon light and went nearly white. She was threading between cars, almost to their own, when she felt eyes on her from around the bulk of the bag. The sedan next to theirs was a dark gray, engine off, window half down. A man in the driver's seat, sprawled and loose, was watching her.
Their eyes met. He didn't look away.
She looked away first. She had to. She could feel his gaze on her back as she hit the unlock on the key fob, set the bag down at her feet, and reached for the trunk—
"Hey. Hold on."
She turned. He'd gotten out of the car. Thirties, maybe forties, wearing a face like he'd already decided to be angry. She couldn't think of a single reason she should be the target of it, and she looked at him with that confusion plain on her face.
"You hit my door."
Wanda took one breath, parsing what he'd said. "I didn't." Her voice came out harder than usual.
"You did. I was watching."
She didn't give ground. "I haven't opened my door yet. I just touched it." She was almost surprised by how flat it came out.
"That's a funny way to put it," he said, moving toward her. One step, then another. "You hit it."
She didn't want this to turn into something. Zia was here. It was the first warm day of spring and they'd just come out to run errands. "I'm sorry," Wanda said. "But I didn't hit it."
"You're still saying that." His voice had gone loud. "I saw it happen. There's a mark." He grabbed her wrist, hard. "You're paying for it."
He was drawing breath to say something else when footsteps hit the asphalt behind her. His eyes moved to something behind her. The grip on her wrist eased, just slightly.
Zia had moved a rock in the ground cover and uncovered a mass of pill bugs underneath.
She was studying them with complete seriousness. Whether pill bugs hibernated was a question neither Yael nor Victor had been able to answer—neither of them actually knew. Zia seemed dissatisfied with this, but when one of the bugs curled into a ball she appeared to find it sufficient, and finally started walking.
Wanda had already gone ahead. Big bag in her arms, toward the far row.
Victor had both hands full of bags when he started walking with Zia, and that was when he noticed something happening at the other end of the lot. Wanda was standing, a man was standing, and they were too close together. Wanda's body looked wrong—held too still. Then the man's voice rose, and even from here Victor could make out the edge of it.
Yael set her bags down without looking at them. Her eyes stayed on Wanda and the man. Then she looked at Victor. One second, maybe two.
"Zia."
That was all. She was already moving in long strides before he'd finished nodding, and he'd put his hand on Zia's shoulder before he'd fully decided to.
"Mom, where's she going?" Zia started after Yael.
"Just a minute," Victor said. He put his bags down and picked Zia up before she could break into a run.
Wanda felt Yael arrive before she heard her. She felt it in the way the man's gaze moved off her face and onto something behind her.
Yael stepped in front of her. Between her and the man, one step forward so that Wanda was behind her.
"Is there a problem?" Low voice, flat. But Wanda could hear something underneath it—faint, and not quite neutral.
The man's expression shifted slightly. "None of your business."
"It is."
"How is it your business."
Yael took one breath.
"She's my wife."
The hand Wanda had pressed to Yael's back tightened, just a little.
Victor held Zia and watched.
"Victor." Zia's finger found an old acne scar on his cheek and pressed it. She still landed on both syllables like they were two separate words, and probably always would. "What's this?"
"Evidence of poor life choices," he said. He was only half there.
Zia looked unimpressed. Then she turned and looked toward her mothers.
The man said something. Yael didn't move. He said something else. Yael still didn't move.
Eventually the man looked away. There was a sound low in his throat, something like a dismissal, and he got back in his car. The door closed. The engine turned over. The gray sedan pulled out and was gone.
The lot went quiet.
Yael turned to Wanda. "You okay?"
Wanda tried to say something and couldn't. She nodded. She'd pressed her other hand over the wrist he'd grabbed, without realizing she'd done it. Yael's eyes dropped to it for a moment. Then her fingertips touched the wrist, lightly, just once. After that she turned and went to collect her bags from the ground.
Victor set Zia down and she went straight to Wanda's side. A small hand closed around Wanda's cuff. She didn't look up. She just stood there.
"Mama, go home." Zia said.
Wanda stood there. The small hand around her cuff didn't let go.
Even bitter fruit turns sweet once it ripens. Maybe.
The afternoon light lay long across the parking lot.
Wanda's hand found the top of Zia's head before she'd thought to move. Then she took her hand and held it.