Anywhere But Here

by Jenny Gardiner

  Chapter 22

  A glance at the map this morning reveals we’re far closer to Niagara Falls than I’d realized. Which means today’s the day, I guess.

  I’m not sure I’m ready for our trip to be over quite yet. We’re having too much fun. But I guess like the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And this trip in particular might come to a ghastly end. Or an invigorating one. Certainly there will be an exclamation point at the end of it, and for me, that’s progress. My life has had very little exciting punctuation involved with it so far. A comma here, a dash there. Maybe a question mark or two. But that’s about it.

  Although probably the biggest question mark of all is why the hell did I stay with that son of a bitch for so long?

  I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it. It is what it is. I bought into it, is all I know. But now I’ve checked out of it. Escaped the cult. I’m making up my own mind now, thank you very much.

  Smoothie and I don’t talk much on the last leg of this drive. Every now and then Niagara leans forward and slurps his tongue across my ear, which makes me giggle. Smoothie is manning the car this morning. I’m trying to steel my nerves for my crazy plan. I still wonder if I’m being a complete idiot here, but it just seems like the damnedest thing I can think of to do to launch my new life (or end it, I suppose, if things go horribly awry). Maybe I’m thinking entirely irrationally. Sure I am. One does not rationally choose to jump into a raging waterfall.

  We cross into Canada with little fanfare. They don’t even say anything about the dog, amazingly. I guess as long as we’re not smuggling apples or terrorists it’s not a problem to enter the country. We follow the signs to the falls—being that this is the draw in this neck of the woods, signage is not in short abundance.

  It feels like it’s a hundred degrees out by the time we arrive at Queen Victoria Park on the Canadian side of the falls. A blanket of humidity has settled over everything and the weather fits my mood.

  We park the car, I hand Smoothie my keys to put in his pocket, and lock my purse in the trunk. Figure I’m not going to need that today. Might not ever again. We stroll through the park, Niagara on a leash, wandering along the tree-lined paths and admiring the explosion of color from the many flowerbeds. It’s as if all this natural splendor is trying to persuade me to stick around and enjoy it awhile longer. I can’t help but steal a glance at the falls, trying to put out of my mind what could happen today if I don’t live to tell about it, yet steeling myself for the inevitable.

  “Let’s go take a look, shall we?” Smoothie says, bowing like a Victorian gentleman and ushering me ahead of him with his hand. I think he wants to make me scared enough looking at it up close that I’ll chicken out.

  I feel as if I’m finally encountering a lifelong foe as I greet the enormous waterfall up close. The idea of the falls has taken on a life of its own in my head, and yet the reality of it is actually worse. Or bigger. Or better. I’m not exactly sure.

  “What d’you think?” Smoothie asks me.

  “It’s bigger than I thought it was.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Janie McGregor told me my freshman year of college when I got her into bed for the first time,” he jokes. “Never forget, Mary Kate, size does matter.” Smoothie is trying to laugh and kid about things, but just beneath the smiling veneer I see his eyes are creased with worry.

  “We’re talking waterfalls here, not your manhood.”

  “Oh, baby, talk to me about my manhood.” I hit him playfully, and he changes the subject. “You know, I think that plunge about defies the laws of nature,” Smoothie says.

  “And Canada.” I smile at him weakly.

  “I was reading that the water rushes over the falls at a rate of six million cubic feet per second.”

  “That’s a lot of water.”

  “Yep. A big gulp.”

  “You know back in the 1800’s the falls stopped falling all of a sudden when a sudden shift in winds caused massive ice jams, blocking the water flow. The silence from the absence of thundering water woke up the whole town. Everybody scurried to churches because they thought the end was near. After they were done being scared, some folks went out and danced near the edge.”

  “I’m thinking that would’ve been an inopportune time to jump in, then.”

  Smoothie nods his head. “Be a pretty hard fall. But either way it’d be a pretty hard fall.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I say. “Don’t remind me.”

  #

  I know to some it won’t make sense, this need I have to do this. But it’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t led a constipated life what it’s like when all of a sudden the pipes are running clear for the first time in forever. It’s been so long since I made an important decision on my own that I want to make some important and impulsive ones, ones that I can claim as my own, right or wrong, and test the waters, I guess literally and figuratively.

  It may sound crazy, but it’s where my head is right now. And I can’t seem to say no to my head at the moment. Maybe even if my heart is telling me differently.

  I know Smoothie can’t understand this. Hell, I don’t even know that I understand it. It’s more that I know it. For some stupid damned reason, I know it.

  And part of me reminds me of all the things that Richard would say to me. Where’s your goddamned brain, Mary Kate? What in tarnation kind of notion is that?

  I’ll tell you where my goddamned brain was. Clearly wedged so far up my ass I wasn’t able to think with it. And another thing: if I never hear the word tarnation again for the rest of my existence—which might not be for so long—I’ll be a happy and liberated woman.

  It suddenly dawns on me—this is the first I’ve even thought about Richard in days. Like he vaporized away, or that storm front—make that a veritable nor’easter—moved through and is off the coast of New England now, leaving behind balmy weather and no chance of thunderstorms.

  I begin to type Fuck Dick. Fuck dickety Dick. Fuckety dickety Dick. Fuckety Dickety. Fuckety Dickety Dock. The Dick Ran Up The Clock. The Dick betrayed, the wife ran away, fuckety dickety Dock.

  I’m free of Richard. Finally, mercifully free of Richard. At least I think I am. Who knows? He might be cooking up some grand scheme to get even with me. Or take me back, against my will. Or have me arrested for stealing his State Trooper-mobile. But it’s in my name too, I think. So it’s not just his.

  “You want to just chill here for a while, Mary Kate?” Smoothie’s decided he wants to park his butt on the perfectly manicured carpet of grass. Fair enough.

  We sit with the dog in silence in the grass for a couple of minutes. A fine mist hangs over the air, and the whoosh of the falls is an inevitable soundtrack to all activities here.

  “So this is it, then?” Smoothie asks.

  “I guess so,” I say, as I nervously drill a small hole into the soil between us with a stick. “Look, Smoothie. I, I—”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Mary Kate.”

  “No. But I want to. I need to thank you. For giving me the courage. The courage I didn’t have on my own.”

  “I didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have in you, baby. You were the brave one, remember? You’re the one who slowed down on the side of the road and decided to pick me up.”

  “That’s because you were so damned cute.” I grin.

  “I don’t think so. Otherwise you’d have picked up somebody long before I came along. I think your courage bubbled up to the surface just in time. Lucky me. Although I will warn you, if you survive this thing, I’d advise you not to pick up any more strangers after this. It was a fluke you were so lucky this time.” Smoothie’s lower lip quivers almost undiscernibly. But I see it still.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t make a habit of picking up handsome men on the side of the road. Not that
there will ever be an occasion to find another handsome one. Usually they’re pretty creepy.” He nods in agreement.

  “Look, Mary Kate. There’s something I’ve got to say to you.”

  He has that look in his eyes like when a doctor on a soap opera is about to disclose a terminal diagnosis to his patient. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say.

  “Please, Smoothie. Don’t try to dissuade me. I’m ready for this. I’m leaving it up to the fates. Sink or swim, they’ll decide.”

  He sighs and reaches his arms out and binds me to him forcefully and we tip over so we’re lying on the grass. My head is pressed against his chest, and we don’t say anything, I just lie there listening to his lungs inhale and exhale to the accompanying tempo of his heart, all competing with the thundering sounds of the falls behind us.

  “You sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you not to do this?” With my head on his chest, his voice vibrates against my ear in a soothing manner.

  I nod my head, my lower lip pushed out in a pout. “We’ve been through it all. I know you think this is stupid, but I don’t have a plan B in my life. I’ll soon be out of cash. I haven’t got an education; I’ll probably have this crazy vengeful man stalking me the rest of my life. I mean what do I have left?”

  I look up to see Smoothie’s face fall. I know he knows we’ve talked this into the ground. “I guess I’ve got nothing new to say on the matter. It is what it is.”

  “Precisely. It is what it is.”

  “Okay, then look, I’m doing it with you.”

  My eyes bug open at him. “What?”

  “I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m going too. Take it as it comes. Hope for the best. All good things must come to an end. All that crap.”

  My fingers begin to type: All good things must come to an end. All good things must come to an end. All good things must come to an end. Christ.

  “I can’t drag you along on this!”

  “You’re not dragging me. I’m going voluntarily.”

  “But you’re only going because I’m going. That’s not fair. It’s like I’m backhandedly responsible for you then. I can’t do that.”

  “I’m accountable for my own actions, Mary Kate, just like you are for yours. Fact is I’ve grown awful fond of you, and I hate to see you go it alone.”

  I blush. “Awww. I’m honored,” I say, then hold my hand out against his chest. “But really, no.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Smoothie puts his finger to my lips to shush me.

  “I have the final word on what I’m going to do, and I’m going.”

  But then I think about it for a minute and I realize what he’s up to. I lean back out of his reach a little, my arms extended to his waist.

  “Wait a minute. I get it,” I say. “You think that if you say you’re going along then I’ll change my mind because I won’t want to be responsible for you, right? A little reverse psychology?”

  Smoothie laughs once. “Not hardly. But that would’ve been a good idea if I’d have thought of it.”

  “Why the hell do you want to do this, then?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess if I look at it from your glass half-empty perspective, things don’t look much brighter for me, either. My wife’s gone—hell, hooked up with a chick instead of me. I’m out of work. For all intents and purposes I’ve dropped out of school. What’s to stop me?”

  “It’s a little different for you than for me. You’re imminently employable. You could kick your wife out of your place. No reason she should get to keep it. You haven’t missed much school. I’m sure you could make it up. And you’d have a million women pounding down your door to get at you. The world is your oyster.”

  “It’s yours too. You just don’t want to believe it.”

  “I hate oysters.”

  “Then the world is your lobster.”

  “Now lobsters, I like.”

  “Unlike fish sticks. And mashed potatoes.”

  I start to laugh. “Or pot roast.”

  “Pork chops.”

  “Stuffed chicken breasts.”

  “And definitely not the Ponderosa all-you-can-eat buffet. What day is it? Maybe you should’ve picked a last supper or something. One of those from tricky Dick’s mandatory all-time favorites list.”

  “You know, I couldn’t even tell you what day it is. Damn. In one week my life went from morbidly predictable to—”

  “Potentially morbid?”

  “Hush.” It’s my turn to put my finger to Smoothie’s lips. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be the rush of my life. The only rush in my life, ever. It’ll be cold and wet and fast, and when it’s over I’ll figure out what I’m gonna do with the rest of my life.”

  “Same goes for me. I’d don’t know about the cold part of that, but if you keep talking about wet and fast you’re only going to distract me. So come on. If we’re gonna do it, let’s get it over with.” Smoothie stands up, brushes grass off his jeans, and extends his hand out to me.

  “You comin’, Mizz Doooopreeee?”

  I look up at him now and think about that image of him with that straw in his mouth, his cowboy hat cocked sideways, looking so charming and confident. Charming whether we’re staying in a barn while pretending to be a married couple even though we were strangers, or jumping into icy Niagara Falls.

  I get up and fluff my spiky hair a little. As if I have to look nice for what I’m about to do. Smoothie ties Niagara to a nearby bench.

  “What’s gonna happen to him?” I ask.

  Smoothie shrugs. “Guess eventually if we don’t make it back, someone’ll notice he’s all alone.”

  I feel sort of bad about that. Here he thought he had a new home, and now, maybe he won’t. But at this point I’m just going to look at the bright side of things and trust that we’ll make it. I dust off my hands on my shorts and stretch out like a runner before a big race.

  “You got a game plan, then, ma’am?” Smoothie asks.

  “You bet,” I say. “Just stare at the lip of the falls.”

  Stare at the lip of the falls. Stare at the lip of the falls. Stare at the lip of the falls.

  “On the count of three, we’re gonna take off running. Got it, Mary Kate?”

  I inhale deeply, trying to suck in enough courage to follow through. Smoothie takes my hand and grips it tightly in his.

  “One.”

  I look at him and nod my head, then stare back at the falls.

  “Two.”

  “Last chance to change your mind, baby.”

  I shake my head vigorously, staring at the falls hard. But I shift my gaze to stare into Smoothie’s eyes, and notice again the color is the same evocative emerald color as the falls. Quickly I look back at the water’s edge.

  “Three.” I shout out and start to run. Smoothie isn’t expecting that but he’s holding on for dear life and catches up to me in a split second. I hear Niagara barking in the background, poor boy. I’m running and gasping for air and my sparkly flip flops are so not made for this sort of venture and my hefty boobs are jiggling in my sexy cami top and I must be quite a sight to behold. We’re nearing the wrought iron railing, the one I’m going to have to hoist myself over in the blink of any eye so that no one tries to stop me.

  I’m gasping for air—man, I haven’t run this fast in ages. I pull against Smoothie’s hand and then he gives a sharp tug, so hard I think my arm is going to be yanked right out of the socket. I stare at the lip of the falls for a lightning strike in time and then everything goes black.

  Chapter 23

  I see green. Seafoam green, swirling, whooshing, pulling me in, making me need it so badly I can’t veer away. And my head. It hurts so much, the throbbing is something akin to
the end of the world. Pain giving birth to pain, it’s that bad.

  Somewhere through the green I hear faint sounds. “Mary Kate. Mary Kate.”

  Something in my head tries to make words but nothing seems to come out.

  “Mary Kate. Baby.”

  I hear different voices now, some yelling, some not so loud. I feel hands on my face. Rough, warm hands pressing hard against my cheeks and my forehead and searching the topography of my entire head. My eyes flicker open and closed but all I see is that evocative green. And something that looks deceptively like a rainbow. Christ, a rainbow. Am I dead? I know when my friend Ginny’s kitty Molasses got hit by a car in third grade, her parents told her Molasses crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. Is this what I’m looking at—the Rainbow Bridge?

  “Mary Kate, honey.”

  Someone is shaking my shoulder. I try to talk but still no words will make their way from my head to my lips.

  My fingers are moving, I can feel their rhythmic pattern in that typewriter’s arpeggio I know so intimately. Lip of the falls. Lip of the falls. Lip of the falls.

  And then I feel warmth on my lips, soft and gentle, and it feels strange but it feels right.

  “Mary Kate, are you there?”

  Eyes flicker open and shut again and this time I understand the green I’m staring at. The beckoning warmth of Smoothie’s eyes.

  “Wha—”

  It’s all I can manage.

  He presses his fingers to my lips. “Shhh. Nothing. Don’t try to talk.”

  Fingers are exploring my hair and hands are skimming my face and again I feel lips on mine and I just let the sensations of touch wash over me, bathing in the feeling of it.

  I hear a voice say, “She’ll be fine,” and another say “thanks so much for your help.” And the other voices grow dimmer until I only hear the distant sound of children playing and the pounding of water. The pounding of water. Now it’s sinking in. Niagara Falls. It’s there and I’m here. But I don’t know what’s going on, and right now I don’t really care.