Ch.14—Tadpole’s News a.k.a. The Last Straw
“Christina, come get changed for dinner,” my mother called, her voice surprisingly bright and cheerful. Miraculously enough, Mrs. Hyde had not made another appearance since the wedding. Perhaps there was a connection?
I picked up my towel off the dock and my Nancy Drew book before heading upstairs. Once in my bedroom, I pulled on shorts, a clean tank top and slipped into sandals. A quick run of the comp through my hair and I was presentable. I gave Daddy’s picture a kiss and found my place at the dinner table. It was strange—it almost felt normal as everyone chitchatted and filled their plates. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend it was the way it had always been and should have been.
I’d felt this way many times in the past two weeks since my mother and John returned from their honeymoon. It would take me by surprise, like when I woke up and I’d lie there trying to get of bed. The comforting sounds of morning would drift up—the cheerful perk of the coffee pot, the hum of conversation, occasional laughter. The last sound had been missing for a long time. When I really thought about it, most of those sounds had been missing because it took two people, together, to make them while my mother and I had been like islands.
Or the feeling would catch me in the evening as we sat on the couch, watching a movie and digging our hands into the popcorn bowl. It was in the sense of anticipation just before John would come home from work. My mother would be preparing dinner, humming or singing and making sure everything was just right. It felt good…it felt like old times. But then I would feel guilty. How could I dare to find happiness with an impostor in the house? The sense of comfort would disappear and the hole where Daddy had been would wide open again.
I poked at my food, torn between this new life and the old. John cleared his throat, making me look up to catch his eyes twinkling as he winked and smiled at me. I smiled back without even thinking about it. You couldn’t help smiling at someone who was so cheerful. How did he do it? “Well, girls, the county fair is in town. What do you say? It’ll be my treat,” he asked as he leaned back in his chair.
My mother grinned at me. Who could resist a fair, especially when we hadn’t gone in over two years? We made quick work of the clean-up in the kitchen, Mom grabbed sweatshirts, and we loaded into John’s truck.
Fifteen minutes later, we were bumping down the dusty drive to the parking area. I loved every part of the fair—the lights of the midway, the dust kicking up around your feet, getting acquainted with all kinds of animals, and of course, the food! There were oodles of food that had my mouth watering as I set foot on the grounds. I played the games and picked all of my favorite rides. There were a few moments of disgusting mushiness; John went on the Ferris wheel with my mother and they kissed. Then he won her a teddy bear and she acted like a little kid, jumping up and down before throwing her arms around his neck. We shared a piece of the scrumptious sweetness of fried dough and listened to country music in the arena. Overall, it was a great night, the best I’d had in this new family of mine.
I fell asleep on the way home and barely stumbled to my bedroom. I had just flopped down when Tad called me on his walkie-talkie. “Christina…Christina! Come in! I’ve got a 911!” His voice was frantic.
I shot straight up and grabbed my walkie-talkie. “What is it?” I called in response to our code for an emergency.
“Meet me in my driveway,” he said breathlessly. I ran downstairs, called out that I was going to Tad’s and hurried out the door before I could hear any arguments. When I reached his driveway, Tadpole was pacing back and forth, his hair mussed and his hat missing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, out of breath and holding the stitch in my side. The look in his eyes made me want to go back home. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t good. He slumped down on the grown and held his head, elbows on his knees. I sat down next to him and rubbed his back. “Come on, Tad. It can’t be that bad. Tell me…please.”
He looked up at me and there were tears in his eyes, proving me wrong because I had never seen Tad cry except when my daddy died. “I just found out tonight…at dinner. We’re moving…out of state.”
I shook my head in disbelief as my heart sank to my toes. “When?” I asked brokenly.
His own voice cracked in answer. “September. It’s because of Dad’s work. Christy, I don’t want to go!”
This was it—the last straw. The part of me that had started to heal, to become whole again after all of this time, it just snapped. I turned and ran into the darkness with no clue of where I would go or if I would come back. The painful echoes of Tad, shouting my name, followed me into the night.
Ch. 15—Running Away a.k.a. Finding My Way Home
The night was a cool one for summer, the woods silent as my feet pounded down the trail. It was a path that I knew by heart, even if I could barely see it in the dark. I kept wiping the tears from my eyes as I choked and gasped my way through. I stopped when I hit the railroad tracks and stood still, panting for breath. How could this be happening? How could Tadpole go? He was my everything, what kept me gong. He’d been my best friend and sidekick since first grade. I could do this without home!
As I stood alone in the darkness, my thoughts a scattered jigsaw puzzle, I could hear the distant sound of a train whistle. It called to me through the night until it felt like I couldn’t move. I could hear the freight train inching closer. The headlight lit a trail ahead of it and my heart grew loud in my ears. Time seemed to slow and in that moment I thought about staying exactly where I was. Maybe…if I stayed I could be with Daddy. Maybe all of this awful, awkward, uncomfortable stuff could be over. Maybe…I could be truly happy.
The whistle sounded and the tracks vibrated under my feet. The light blinded me and a voice spoke clearly in my mind, a voice I could never forget, a voice filled with bottomless love for me. “Christina, I love you. Remember when I made you promise to take care of yourself. Keep the promise. “With wobbly legs, I listened to my father’s voice and half-walked, half-crawled off of the tracks into the tall weeds. I could
feel the rush of the wind on my face with the train’s passing. My daddy had spoken to me…he had saved me. And if he spoke to me once, he could do it again. That was something to hold onto. That was something worth sticking around for the long haul.
I don’t know how long I sat there when the thunder rumbled in the night. Lightning lit up the sky. The rain began to pelt down in a sheet around me. I stood up and ran into the woods, off the trail, away from home. I wasn’t ready to go back there yet. I’d probably wandered about a half hour when I found a fallen tree leaning against a large rock. It created a little nook where I could curl up and stay dry. My body shook from the damp chill and crying. I let out two years worth of tears until I fell asleep.
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