“I remember our mother pulling off the highway into dark towns, buying biscuits at the drive-through with small bills in a rubber band, pulled from under the driver’s seat. Kayla slept and I ate three biscuits, hers and mine and our mother’s, too. Our mother, who cried silently behind the steering wheel from Dallas to Plano to Sherman to McAlester. I practiced reading highway signs. Our mother helped me sound them out, until she didn’t.”