Witchcraft
She checked the road quickly before looking down at the Witch again. “DOG DOO!”
When we arrived back at the Wagon after meeting the horse named Mule, I collapsed in bed and would have been asleep right away if Mom would settle. Instead, she circled and dug through the blankets like she was the one preparing for a nap. I watched through one half-closed eye as she moved on from the blankets and peeled back the chewed-up corner of the mattress.
I gave up on my nap. “What are you looking for?”
“My laptop charger. It takes a long time to charge off of the van’s battery, so I want to plug it in before we hit the… Ah hah!” She held up the spaghetti-straw in triumph. She belly flopped onto the bed and reached into the cockpit to plug it into the spare slot under the Witch’s feeding straw. “I bet there’s enough time for it to be fully charged by the time we get to our next spot. I don’t know why I don’t do this more often.”
She was too proud of herself and I was too tired to remind her why. I rested my head back between my paws and let the Wagon rock me to sleep.
I woke up some time later to Mom hissing about trucks, or maybe it was ducks. When I opened my eyes, Mom was glaring at the Witch in her lap. Like a driver on TV who doesn’t have to watch the road, she checked the front window quickly for trucks or ducks and looked back down at her lap for even longer.
“Dog doo!” She pulled the plug in and out of the charging hole, and twisted it around.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Dog doo! Dog doo! Dog doo!” She leaned down so that only her eyeballs peeked over the front windowsill and rummaged in the cubby next to her feet. Her paw came back holding a different plug. She kept movie-driving with her eyes off the road and paws off the driving wheel while she stuck the Witch’s leash into the plug, and the plug into the charging hole. She checked the road quickly before looking down at the Witch again. “DOG DOO!”
“What?” I asked again.
“I blew the fuse again.”
“Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re handling whatever it is just fine.”
“No, I mean the van blew a fuse. Remember our very first adventure when I plugged too many things into the charger and we had to spend all day at that shady auto shop while a mechanic figured out what was wrong?”
“Was that the day with all the ticks?” I asked. “Because we didn’t stay in the Wagon that night, remember? You went into Walmart and bought every flavor of dog shampoo so we could break the world record for Worst Bath Ever.”
“Yeah, that time! It was $180 for the diagnostic and $2 for the stupid fuse,” she said, as if I wouldn’t believe her without a number to measure the problems by.
“And two hunerd for a lousy Motel 6 room!” I repeated to show that I remembered her grumbling. I didn’t know what that meant, but sometimes it’s more supportive to remember your partner’s problems than to understand them.
“Exactly! Well I did it again. I shouldn’t have tried to charge my phone and laptop at the same time. It blew the fuse and now I can’t charge anything. Even my phone.”
“Yaaay!” I cheered. “Ding dong, the Witch is dead!”
“You don’t get it. If I can’t charge my phone, that means no trail maps, no driving directions, no photos, no music, no audiobooks.”
“… The mean old Witch, the wicked Witch,” I kept singing. “Ding dong, the wicked Witch is dead!”
“… I don’t even know what day it is without my phone. If I don’t get this sorted out, it means a 14-hour drive back to San Francisco with nothing but my thoughts to listen to.” She shuddered.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen this movie and there’s a shortcut,” I said. “You just click your heels together three times and—”
“We’re almost at the trailhead and I have enough backup battery for one charge,” Mom continued, ignoring my advice. “So I guess we’ll turn off the phone and do tomorrow’s hike the old-fashioned way. I’ll figure the rest out afterward.”
“Suit yourself,” I yawned. I laid my head back on the blankies and went back to my nap.
That night Mom stared deep into her soup, digging shapes with the spoon and swiping beans around the bowl like Candy Crush. No matter how hard she wished, though, her soup had no answers for what was happening in the world or what the trail ahead had in store. She swallowed her last spoonful of disappointment and we stared at each other until it was too dark to see by. Finally, Mom plugged the Witch into her emergency juice box and tucked her under the pillow. She plugged her swiping finger behind my ear where it scratched pleasantly as it swiped phantom candies until Mom fell asleep.
