by KL Donn
I knock my thigh against his. “Calm down, George. We’re fucking with you. Our mom used to say that to us all the time. You sounded just like her for a moment. That’s all.” Todd and I shake our finger at him mockingly, and he smiles.
“We have to be at the terminal in an hour. I’d like to eat first. I’m starving,” Todd says, eyeballing a few restaurants as we slowly pass by them.
“Dude, I’m not sure who’s following us, so I’d rather eat on the plane. I don’t care if we order a pizza to be delivered or roll through a drive-thru somewhere, but I’m not sitting down in a restaurant after the shit-show I just went through.”
“Fine. George, what do you want? Pizza or drive-thru?” Todd waits expectantly at the light, ready to turn left or right with his response.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll eat at home,” he says, scrolling through his phone absently.
“Alright, Bro. Your choice. I’m good with whatever, as long as it’s quick.”
“Just get us to the airport. We’ll find something in the terminal,” I tell him.
He changes lanes and winds us into traffic to enter the highway.
I throw my bag in the private locker behind my seat and slouch down into the leather. I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically. I’m not sure how I ended up taking the Chicago Fire’s private jet to my court appearance in Orlando, but somehow I feel like it’s a ride I’m going to pay heavily for.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and speed-dial my mom. She’s on a self-imposed news ban since my arrest, not knowing who or what to believe. Normally, all she has to worry about is the media showing goals I made or who my latest supposed supermodel girlfriend is. This whole being arrested situation is causing unnecessary anxiety. So much so, she’s been lighting more candles for my soul and well-being than the Vatican lights at an Easter vigil.
“Mom, it’s Ian. How are you feeling today?”
“Darling, boy. Don’t worry about me. You know, I’m a survivor.”
“I know, Mom. You’re the Wonder Woman of your time.”
“Oh good, Lord. It went that bad, huh?”
“What? No. It wasn’t bad. Why do you think that?”
“I got the feeling that you were buttering me up with the Wonder Woman comment.”
“No. I meant it. You’re my hero. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Aww. All right. Now cut the bull crap. Give me the details, because I still won’t be able to watch the news or my shows until this all blows over.”
“Mom, stop. I’ll come over and show you how to DVR them so you can watch them without commercials.”
“Well hell. If I knew that was possible, I’d have been doing that all along. I hate commercials. Just a bunch of loonies lying about how great their products are.” She continues to talk about some commercial I haven’t seen when Todd comes in.
He takes his seat across from me and belches. I can smell the peanut oil and salt on his breath from his fries at Five Guys and scrunch my nose. Disgusting. “Who is that?” he mouths to me and points to my phone.
“Todd says he loves you, Mom,” I interrupt her to answer his question.
“Don’t lie to me, Ian Michael. I heard him burp. Let him know I’m still waiting for his manners to show up.”
Laughing, I slap him on the knee. “Ha. She heard you, and she says to tell you she’s still waiting for your manners.”
“Excuse me. Sorry, Mom,” he says loud enough for her to hear.
“That’s my boys. Manners show your character. Never forget that. Now, stop stalling and give me the details. What did the judge say?”
“She dropped the aggravated assault charge since he was committing a crime when I stepped in to help the woman get away from him.”
“Oh, thank God! I knew my prayer chain was working when I received them all back.”
“She chastised me for my temper though, and I have to complete fifteen hours of anger management classes and then another one hundred hours of community-based service.”
“Well, you get your temper honestly from your father. So how are anger management classes going to help?”
“I don’t know Mom, but I’ll complete them. I’ll do it all, right down to the last millisecond of the community service.”
“Yes, you will. You’ve always been a man of your word. Like I said earlier, I raised great men of high moral character.”
My stomach twists a little every time she says that to me. It’s her mantra, and I’ll never deny her of it.
The stewardess walks through and points to an invisible watch on her wrist reminding me of our take-off time.
“Mom, I have to go. We’re about to take off. We should be back in Chicago around 6:00 PM. I’ll text you when we land, and I promise to come over soon and show you how to DVR your shows.”
“All right, darling. You two be safe. You’re all I have left in this world.”
“I know. I love you. And Mom, don’t worry. This will all blow over quickly, and you’ll be back playing cards with Louise in no time.”
“I love you too. See you soon.”
I hold the phone out toward Todd and kick his foot. He looks up from his magazine confused, “I love you too, Ma,” he adds in, and reaches forward to press the red end button.
I rest my phone on my leg and lean back, closing my eyes. It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long three months.
Todd slams his magazine closed and tosses it haphazardly in the empty chair next to him. “I heard her mention Dad. Why does she always have to bring him up in conversation?” Todd asks, crossing and uncrossing his legs several times in frustration.
“It helps remind her that she’s in control now. Just let her say whatever she wants. She’s earned that right.”
George motions to me from his seat nearer to the front of the plane. He’s overtaken the table and has a massive amount of papers spread out around him. This can’t be good.
“Hey, I’m going to go sit with George and go over some Fire business. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Todd nods his head in acknowledgement and stretches his legs out in front of him.
2
Neenah
I look in the rearview mirror to check on Dane and, for the first time today, his big, dark eyes are staring back at me and not out the window. Those eyes, they’re just like this father’s—piercing, suspicious, and usually mad at me. As soon as he realizes we’re not going back to Minnesota...well, I don’t want to think about that right now. Or his dad for that matter. Ever again.
Dane shifts his gaze, taking in the bright lights and super-highways of the city as he does with everything in his life—in silence. He isn’t mute, but the constant abuse, both mental and physical, from his father has left him afraid to talk to adults. Dane keeps his own counsel for the most part, unless he’s talking about soccer. Thirty years on this planet, and I can’t make it two minutes without saying something, whether it’s aloud or mumbled under my breath. I don’t know how he’s gone these past few years barely muttering a few words a day.
He sighs heavily and rolls his head back against the seat, causing me to look at him in the mirror again. “We’re almost there, buddy. I promise.” He looks at me blankly but swivels his head quickly when we pass a Baskin Robbins. The recognizable sign and bright pink paint on the building grab his attention, and he starts pointing and whining. “Use your words, Dane. And no, not for dinner. Not again.”
My motherly guilt instantly rises up and seizes my chest. We’ve been eating junk food non-stop for two days now, and I think a bad habit is forming in his mind. He crosses his arms tighter against his chest and kicks the back of my seat.
I’m desperate for a smooth car ride. It’s been a long two days. “We need veggies and some protein, or we’ll never grow big and strong like Ian Legend.”
The mention of his hero brightens his eyes, but it still doesn’t stop him from pouting.
“I promise we’re almost out of this car,�
� I say. Just then, we pass a sign for Arlington Heights, and I point to it. “See? There, Dane. Four more miles. Just hang on, buddy. We’re almost home.”
Home. Or at least a new beginning even though it’s not technically our home. A fresh start. Somewhere no one knows our names. Or my sins.
The Google voice GPS directs me to Ginny Drive. I slow down looking for the house number, nineteen, finding it easily on a corner by the streetlight. I pull into the drive and park around back under the carport adjacent to the garage. Wow. Just wow. Maggie told me it was an old Victorian, but she never said it was a Painted Lady.
Dane and I grab our necessity bags and step up onto the long, wrap-around porch. I pull the key ring out of the envelope tucked into my back pocket and try the one marked back door. It slides in easily and turns, opening the door to an immaculate kitchen and den area. She said the entire house was furnished, and that we should make ourselves comfortable for the long haul. Ha! Comfortable would be an understatement. Living large is more like it. This is well above my pay grade.
I set my purse down on the table by the door, unwrapping Dane’s fingers from my skirt and holding his tiny hand in mine. We slowly make our way through the house, turning on lights and opening doors as we introduce ourselves to our new environment.
He clings to me in his nervousness, but my heart is the one pounding as I think of all the possibilities of living here: a better school for Dane with more resources, a clean home, a quiet home–one where he doesn’t have to hear filthy language and see things on television that no child should ever see because an asshole rules the remote.
We reach the stairs and take them one at a time, climbing higher into our new adventure. Most of the doors are open, giving us a slight glimpse into each room from the entryway. God love Maggie. She knows our life, and she gets it.
The first room we come to is the bathroom. It has a nautical theme with an anchor and rope hanging on the wall, and it has a huge splash tub. I know Dane is going to spend lots of time here. I smile at him when we see the tub, but he stares in silence and pulls on my arm to leave. The next door is closed and when I open it, folded towels and sheets are neatly organized into baskets. Bottles of shampoo and liquid hand soap are lined up like soldiers in a straight row. I feel like we’ve stepped into a Midwest Living magazine cover.
We round the corner, and while I’m admiring the big picture window at the end of the hallway, Dane runs into the closest bedroom. I chase after him and stop as soon as I cross the threshold. Oh, Maggie.
“Oh, Dane.” The words are simple enough, but it’s all I can manage over the lump in my throat. The room is decorated in a Chicago Fire soccer theme complete with a net hanging from one corner to another piled with soccer balls. When I look at Dane, he’s standing directly in front of a life-size fathead wall decal of Ian Legend, who’s in mid-kick to score a goal.
I swipe at the tears that fall down my cheeks. Maggie has outdone herself, all the way down to the sheets and bedspread. Even the carpet is Chicago Fire blue.
I watch Dane’s index finger reach out and touch Ian’s thigh. “Dane, do you like your new room?” Per his usual, he doesn’t make eye contact or say a word, but he does walk over to the bag of soccer balls and pulls one out, tucking it under his arm and walking back to me.
I take his hand, and we finish the grand tour.
The master suite is located to the side of the house at the end of the long hallway. The far corner has a turret, with an overflowing bookcase and a leather chaise lounge. I walk over and trail my fingers over the spines of a row of books and whisper to them, “I’ll be back for you later.”
My stomach growls loudly, and Dane pokes at my belly to stop its noisemaking. I hook his finger with my pinky and head back towards the stairs. “How about we order a pizza and unpack our stuff? How does that sound?” Dane follows closely behind, holding his new soccer ball tightly to his chest.
While waiting for the pizza, we bring everything in from the Jeep and dump it into the living area. Bags and boxes are scattered everywhere by the time the last load is brought in.
“Maggie, please forgive me for making a mess of your home. I promise I’ll clean it up and keep it that way. Thank you, my dear friend,” I whisper into the winds of karma and blow her a kiss, pushing all good vibes toward her and her new life in Spain.
I dig through my purse, finally finding the annoying buzzing that’s causing people to stare in the grocery store. It’s Maggie, and my spirits lift instantly as I slide the green arrow up. “Hey there.”
“Hey there, yourself. You sound frustrated. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is amazing. Thanks to you. You caught me in the grocery store, and the constant buzzing of my phone...well, let’s just say I guess no one ignores their phone around here.”
She belly laughs through the phone. “It’s Chicago. They practically have their phones glued to their ears or their Bluetooth in. So no, they don’t ignore their phones. Should I call back later?”
“No, besides later for you would be midnight, and that’s just ridiculous. I thought it was Julia calling me again. She calls thirty times a day. I swear, she’s incessant. I’m going to have to change my number.”
“She probably wants to see Dane now that the trial is over. Did you tell her or any of his family that you were moving away?”
“My attorney drafted a letter explaining our move, but it didn’t say where we were going. The letter asked them to give us time to adjust to our new life, and also stated that we’d be in touch when I felt the time was right to start bringing them back into our lives.” I hope that time never comes.
“Well, they obviously know now, and refuse to play by the rules. Julia is the one you need to watch out for,” she warns.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. When Julia barks about something, the whole family rallies around with their torches and pitchforks. She was the first face I saw when the judge set me free. The hatred in her eyes sent chills up my spine.”
“Let’s not dwell on the negative. It’s done and over. You beat the charges. And now I’m dying to ask—how’s the house?”
I sigh loudly and happily with a mile-wide smile on my face as I sort through the peaches. “The house? It’s...well...it’s amazing.”
“Yay! Were you surprised?”
“Surprised? That’s not the right word. Flabbergasted is more like it. And definitely speechless. It’s gorgeous and adorable. It’s a freakin’ Painted Lady for Christ’s sake. Every woman who had a dollhouse growing up wanted to live in one. You fooled me, downplaying it as ‘just a typical house’.”
“I wanted to surprise you. There’s been so little joy in your life since…well, forever,” she says, emphasizing ‘forever’ in her stern teacher voice.
“And what you did for Dane and his room. I cried like a baby. He’s latched onto one of the soccer balls, and now they’re best friends, like Tom Hanks and Wilson in Castaway.”
“Speaking of Dane, he’s one of the reasons I’m calling besides checking in on you. Inside the large desk drawer is a notebook. I made a list of all of the reputable resources that you’ll need for him like doctors, therapists, schools, and daycare centers. I also want you to think about signing him up for a sports team and maybe getting him a therapy dog. I really think those two things will help him adjust to his new surroundings.”
“You’re the dearest friend, thank you. I found the notebook a few nights ago after putting him to bed. I sat out in the backyard swinging in the monstrous Papasan chair hanging from the maple tree, going through it and crying a river over your help. I wanted to call you then and there to thank you but wasn’t sure if your number was still working. Dane’s actually at daycare now. Today is his second day already.”
“Oh good. Yes, my US number still works. I made sure to keep it. You can call me anytime; I don’t care about the hour,” she says somewhat distracted. I hear someone talking in the background.
“Are you adjustin
g well to Spain? I hear someone there with you. Have you already made friends?”
“You know the life of a teacher—summer trainings and all that boring talk about lack of educational funding. It’s not just a US issue. I’ve been in conferences all week. So yeah, I’ve met a few people. We’re waiting for the others to show up. We’re going out shortly to relax.”
“Don’t let me keep you. Have a great time, and make sure you’re open to finding someone special. One of those hot Spaniards would be good for you.”
“Pfft,” she scoffs in my ear. “Stop changing the subject. Neenah, I mean it. Sign him up for soccer and consider the dog. I’ve seen amazing results in children’s behavior with a therapy pet, and we already know Dane prefers dogs.”
“Okay, I’ll consider them both.”
We say goodbye and end the call, just as I finish getting the final items on my list. I round the corner to find the checkout lanes are all self-checkout. The lines are flowing back into the food aisles. Whoever thought this was a good idea never considered the inexperience of others with technology.
After ten minutes, I give up scrolling through Instagram for entertainment and turn to people-watching. At this time of day, it’s mostly elderly people making their purchases for fresh fruit and a few days of meal planning. A few mothers are in line with their small children begging for some of the candy that teases them at the checkout lane. My eyes span across the sea of impatient people to lock onto a tall, good-looking man at the far register. He’s bagging his groceries. In profile, his dark, curly hair looks familiar, but he never turns his face fully towards me. Do I know him?
“Holy shit,” I say out loud, bouncing up and down on my tippy toes to get a better look.
Everyone’s heads turn to look at the woman with the foul mouth.
The lady directly behind me laughs at my outburst. “You saw him too, huh?”
The heat of my embarrassment races up my chest and blooms on my face in a shade that would rival the freshest cranberries. I turn to face the woman. “I’m sorry for my colorful language, but is that Ian Legend?”
