A triangular fin cut through the water and then disappeared. Yukiko had missed it. An oil rig in the distance turned its lights on and glittered white, like a warm beacon out on the water.
“Which island is that?” asked Yukiko.
In the distance stretched the grayish green shape of one of the Channel Islands. After asking for the location of the restrooms, the second most commonly asked question from tourists was if the island was Hawaii. Elliot could never keep a straight face when they asked that, but he didn’t tease them for their ignorance.
“That’s Santa Maria Island. There are more islands up north toward Santa Barbara.”
“And out that way, I see an area of dark water,” she said. She sounded almost excited about it.
“Yeah, it’s a giant submerged rock. I’ve taken my board out there.”
“Oh,” she sounded disappointed.
“Do you want to go walk up the beach?” He supposed a walk on the beach wasn’t too bad for first date entertainment. They went down the concrete steps, took off their shoes and headed up the beach.
“When I was young,” said Yukiko, “there was a spot of dark water. I was swimming with some other young ones. Playing in the water, pretty far out. And then one of the children yelled that the dark spot below us was a dead whale. I hadn’t noticed it before, and it was right under me. I was terrified. Knowing that this huge dead thing was under me, decaying, and that the water touching it was also touching me. And then I thought of its huge mouth, and what would happen if I sank down into that mouth.”
“That’s messed up,” he said, unable to repress a smile, but she just looked out over the water.
“Probably,” she said. “It’s probably messed up. I mean, the whole ocean is filled with dead things, ocean things being born and mating and dying and decaying. I had just never thought of it before.”
“You’re an odd girl,” he said. He didn’t mean it as an insult, and her indifferent shrug told him that she hadn’t taken it as such.
“I think the thing that got to me was that one moment, I was safe and happy and having fun. And then the next moment, I saw this danger just beneath.” A minute later she asked, “Do you have family out of town?”
“My dad lives in San Diego.”
“You should go visit him. Things here, with the slaugh, with your cousin, it’s not safe.”
“If it’s not safe, then I’ll get Astrid and my mom and aunt out.”
“But what if Astrid was the center of it?”
“You mean with the slaugh? Then I’d stay and stick those things in metal boxes or do whatever I had to.”
“You’re like that, aren’t you?” she said. “You wouldn’t leave?”
“I guess.” He was uncomfortable. He wouldn’t leave, but that was just basic decency, nothing to be commended.
“Just think about it, okay? Things might get bad, and no one would blame you for getting out.”
“If it’s bad enough for people to leave, then all the more reason for me to stay.”
“I thought you’d say something like that,” said Yukiko and kissed his cheek.
Chapter 25
Astrid walked through the afternoon heat, carrying the box of kittens. She had taken her last twenty dollars from its hiding place in a book in her room and had grabbed her purse as soon as she and her mother arrived home. Of course, she had taken the box with the kittens with her. She couldn’t trust her mother with them, not now and not ever.
She stopped to rest at a park, set the kittens down on a picnic table and pulled the towel off of the top of the box. She got out her phone to text a few friends, asking if anyone could take the cats. Even if someone could only keep them a few weeks, she might be able to find an apartment that allowed cats in New York.
For today, the main concern was feeding the kittens. Little white Runt was listless and slept most of the time. The other two, the striped male and female were more active. The little female had very dark stripes just over her eyes, like eyebrows. Astrid decided to name her Frieda, after the artist Frieda Kahlo. And the boy would be Diego, after Diego Rivera. There, now she had named them. Now she was emotionally attached.
“Your mama was a hero,” she said as she pulled the towel back over the box to shade them and continued on.
She turned a corner and took the kittens inside the pet and feed store. An employee helped her find kitten formula mix and a plastic bottle with a specially shaped rubber nipple. Astrid also learned how to wipe the kitten’s rear ends with a washcloth to simulate their mother’s tongue. They wouldn’t urinate or defecate otherwise. It was disgusting, but Astrid would do it. Their mother had saved all four of them, and Astrid had made a promise. She would not allow kitten butts and poop to stop her.
After paying for everything, she filled the bottle with some powdered formula and got some water from the drinking fountain near the restrooms. She shook it and shoved it into the waistband of her pants. Right now, it was too cold, but her body heat and the hot summer air would warm it up soon enough.
On the way back home, she stopped at the park to feed the kittens. When she arrived home, her mother was talking on the phone in the kitchen. If Astrid got around the corner quickly, her mother wouldn’t see her.
Her mother left her alone the rest of the evening, and Astrid fed the kittens and wiped their bottoms again before lying down in bed. She didn’t want to sleep, but she wasn’t going to be able to stay awake forever. If the slaugh and its baby were gone and the salt wards held, then that was all she could reasonably hope for. She read until late, fed the kittens one last time, and eventually slept.
The next morning, she got a text from Elliot and one from a friend wishing her a happy eighteenth birthday. Before she even brushed her teeth or got dressed, she signed all of the student loan and grant paperwork and slipped it into the enclosed envelope. She would go to the pound, stop by Elliot’s trailer to get her paycheck, open a checking account at the bank, take the envelope to the post office and get it sent certified mail. Then she would go in to work for the evening shift. Maybe she could leave the kittens in the staff room or hide them behind the pretzel cart. She headed for the kitchen to grab something for breakfast.
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” her mother said and kissed her cheek. She tried not to flinch.
“Thanks.”
“I got you something. Wait here.”
Astrid got a glass of orange juice and made a quick peanut butter sandwich for lunch. A glance at the interior of the refrigerator showed that her mother had picked up a few things from the store. With that and the fact that she had bought a gift, it looked like she had been paid.
There were two packages for Astrid to unwrap. The first was a how-to book on figure drawing. The second was a coffee table art book with glossy photographs of various pieces of modern art.
“I thought you’d like it,” said her mother. “It’s kind of weird and ugly and no one gets it. It’s kind of like the stuff you draw, modern and everything.”
Astrid’s work would be classified more as surrealism, sometimes dark surrealism, but was not technically modern art, but she didn’t expect her mother to appreciate the distinction. And she wasn’t going to rise to her mother’s bait of calling her work ugly. A lot of it was ugly. That was sort of the point. She couldn’t draw a pretty angel to save her life. They always came out with wings feathered with knife blades or with twisted skeletal bodies. Sure, she had done some less dramatic stuff, but on the whole, her work was dark.
“There’s even an artist in there who uses her own blood,” said her mother.
“I think I’ll stick with paint and pencils, at least for now.”
“Yeah, who knows what they’ll teach you at that crazy school in New York. You’ll be smearing dog crap on a picture of the president in no time.”
Her mother smiled, and Astrid couldn’t help but smile back a little. Her mother was a mess, but today, she was trying.
“I can’t believe my baby is all grown up.”
“I guess,” Astrid said and finished packing an apple, a pack of cheese and crackers and a soda for her lunch.
“Oh, I looked up how much your room would rent for,” her mother said. “It would be close to five hundred a month. And I’ll let you know how much half of utilities will be. Probably close to $200. You got paid Friday, right?”
“I was hoping I could save some for New York,” Astrid said, but she knew this conversation was futile.
“Well I need to pay the mortgage and electric bill.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a check by the end of the week.”
She wasn’t going to fight. Besides, once she had Cinderella back, her mother might not allow her stay at all. If Elliot was willing to take Cinderella for a few months, that might work.
“But you got paid Friday,” said her mother.
“Yeah, but it’s not much. And you have the five hundred you took from me the other day. Speaking of which, you took the money in my desk and said you’d pay it back. You got paid Friday too, right?”
“I did, but I had bills.”
“You said you’d pay it back.”
“I paid it back right there!” Her mother pointed to the two books. “And those expensive pencils I got you last week.”
“Those were gifts. You can’t charge me for gifts.”
“I can’t believe you. I buy you these really nice things that are much better than anything I ever got, give you a pizza party, let you stay here, and all you can think of is getting money from me. I swear, you’re just like your father.”
Astrid was about to walk out of the room with her lunch, but she just couldn’t.
“You stole my money and now you’re refusing to pay it back. Keep the money if you want, but admit that you stole it.”
“You little witch,” her mother took a step toward her and Astrid bolted from the room, grabbed her purse and the kitten box and opened the front door.
On the doorstep sat an envelope with no return address and no postage. Well, it was her birthday after all. She set everything down and opened it to find a tiny blank sketch book, no bigger across than a credit card, and a letter.
Astrid,
I am so proud of you. Happy Birthday.
Love,
Grandpa
“Who sent you that?” asked her mother. Astrid jumped at how close her mother was. “Who is this grandpa person?” She grabbed the letter. “This is sick, Astrid. Is this one of your johns?”
“What?”
“I said, is this one of your johns?”
“No. No, of course not. I’m not a hooker.”
“Aren’t you? How many have you slept with?”
“Stop it.”
“I don’t see any regular boyfriends coming around. You must get around.”
“It’s not like that.”
“No? Then tell me, how many have you slept with. Was it under my roof?”
“None, okay? None.” She hadn’t ever slept with anyone, hadn’t dated, nothing.
Her mother looked surprised. Then her look grew knowing.
“Well, I guess I can understand that. No wonder you’re a virgin. Look at you. You’ve always had problems. Even when you were a baby, we took you to doctor after doctor, trying to figure out why you wouldn’t stop crying. Nothing was ever wrong with you, but you screamed like you were being poked with a hot iron. Then, we took you to a shrink when you were four to find out what was wrong with you. You were talking to yourself and drawing all this scary shit. You need to go get psychiatric help.”
“What I need is to get to the pound.”
“Don’t bother. I’m sure that filthy thing died. It was disgusting.”
“She was not. And I’m going to get her back.”
“If you do that, then don’t bother coming back.”
“Then give me my five hundred in rent money and I’ll go.”
“You little bitch. You ungrateful little bitch. I gave up my whole life for you, my marriage, everything. And this is how you turn out, a lying, ungrateful little bitch.”
Astrid grabbed the kitten box, the financial aid envelope and her purse, pushed open the screen and backed out.
“You know what?” her mother yelled. “You’re sick. You’re fucking sick. Don’t bother coming back. I don’t ever want to see you again!”
Astrid headed down the driveway, and spun around as the screen door banged shut. Her mother was following her.
“And another thing,” she shouted. “Don’t you call your aunt. I’m telling her what you did. You’re on your own from now on.”
“Fine,” said Astrid.
“You going to call this grandpa guy?” she held up the letter. “He’s the one who sent that money too, right? Who is this guy?”
“It’s my grandfather. Your father,” said Astrid.
Her mother looked at the letter again.
“Astrid, my father died a year after you were born.”
Chapter 26
“Shit, Astrid, there’s barely enough room for me,” Elliot said. Once again, Astrid sat at his little table, this time with a box of squirming kittens. She mixed up a bottle of kitten formula and fed them.
“It’s either here or the homeless shelter, and they don’t allow animals.”
“No, no. You can’t go to the shelter,” he said. He had stayed there, and though it wasn’t dangerous, it wasn’t a place he’d feel all right sending his young female cousin. He had wondered how long it would be until Astrid left or got kicked out of her mother’s house. It looked like she hadn’t been able to hold out until August after all.
“Thanks. It’s only for six weeks. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Just don’t clutter up the bathroom with all your girl stuff.”
“Deal, I just need to get my paycheck so I’ll have money to get Cinderella out of the pound. I have to be back by three for work.”
A cat and kittens, on top of Astrid staying in the trailer. The place was going to be crowded, but what could he do? It wasn’t like his mother would take them in either.
“I’ll go with you to the pound,” he said. “I’m off today.”
Astrid stroked the kittens and spoke softly to them while Elliot washed his breakfast dishes.
“So, what did you do to get kicked out?” he asked.
“She tried to get Cinderella killed, stole my college money and she’s crazy. And I got another package from our grandfather.”
“Yeah? What was it this time?”
“A really small blank sketch pad.”
“That’s a bit of a letdown. No grand inheritance upon your attainment of adulthood?”
“Sadly no. But my mom said that our grandfather died a year after I was born.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. My mother won’t talk about either him or our grandmother. But getting packages from a dead guy is kind of cool. Maybe he set something up with a lawyer to send you things each year after he died.”
“You watch too many weird TV shows. If he had enough to hire a lawyer, then where’s the inheritance for us? Aside from our mothers, we’re his only living relatives.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll get a telegram any minute now,” said Elliot.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” she said and looked out the window. “We could have cars and get apartments and shop at nice stores.”
“Forget about apartments, we could buy houses.”
“I guess we could. But not anything too big, because they’re too much work to clean.”
“We’d get maids.”
“Oh, yeah. A maid.”
She was still looking out the window, but he could tell her mind was elsewhere. Then, he heard her sniffle and she wiped her eyes.
He went to the bathroom and got a handful of toilet paper. “Here.” He handed it to her.
He hated it when she cried. She rarely did, but when it happened, it opened up something old and deep in him. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t help his mother, or his aunt. He could barely help himself, and he hated it.
“Don’t be sad about getting away from her,” he said. “She’s not healthy. There’s something wrong with her.”
Astrid shook her head. “It’s just, everything didn’t turn out how it was supposed to. I was supposed to go to New York.”
“And you will. You sent in the papers. Now they’ll give you money and you go. You can apply for a credit card and use that for whatever you need until you get on your feet.”
“I know. I just … I guess I just wanted her to be proud of me.”
Elliot sighed and looked out to see what Astrid was watching outside. A few surfers were out, and he wished he could join them. A man threw a Frisbee for a wet dog.
He didn’t know what to say. He refused to tell her that her mother was proud of her deep down. Even if it might be true, he didn’t want to give Astrid false hope. The farther she was from the craziness here, the better.
“And I have to wipe their butts,” she muttered. “It’s disgusting.”
“What?”
“The kittens. I need a washrag.”
After Elliot had sacrificed his rattiest washrag for the kittens, they took the bus to the animal shelter. Elliot held the box of kittens while Astrid rushed inside.
“There was a white cat dropped off yesterday,” she said to the woman inside. “She was in a fight and was hurt pretty badly. I’m here to claim her.”
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 72
