The Long Way Home

by McQuestion, Karen

  Marnie spilled out the tale to the group of women and found herself staring at eight sympathetic faces. The woman next to her reached over to give her a hug. Marnie had never been so grateful for the kindness of others.

  Rita raised her hand slightly. “How is it that Troy knew kids in her neighborhood?”

  “Oh, that.” Marnie wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. “Troy always went to visit her for three weeks in the summer. And then sometimes for long weekends during the school year. He hated going, but it was part of the agreement.” She didn’t mention that Brian often joined Troy midway through the summer visit and that both Troy and Brian returned in bad moods. Sometimes it would take weeks for them to get back to being themselves. She was never invited to Kimberly’s house. Even if she was, she couldn’t have gone because Brian and Troy always flew to Las Vegas. She’d had a traumatic incident on a plane trip during her high school years and hadn’t flown since.

  “Do you keep in touch with Troy?” Jazzy asked, leaning forward, a hand on each knee. She had the expression of someone determined to solve a problem.

  “I try,” Marnie said. “When I text he answers with one or two words. And when I call, it’s never a good time. He always seems like he’s in a big hurry and he wants to get off the phone. The last time he sounded like he was mad almost. I finally told him he should call me when he’s ready.” She paused. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. All I know is that I miss him.”

  “That’s terrible,” a woman said. “You poor thing.” All the women agreed that Marnie had been wronged, which validated her pain. The only other time she’d mentioned the situation with Troy, it was at a family gathering, and her sister had said, “Well, what do you expect? She’s his mother. You’re really nothing to him.” The words were a dagger thrust through Marnie’s heart.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Leticia asked.

  Marnie shrugged. “What can I do?”

  “I know what I’d do,” Jazzy said, looking around the circle. “I’d go to Las Vegas and see Troy. I’d get to the bottom of things.” One of the women clapped while a few others murmured in agreement.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Marnie said.

  “Why not?”

  Jazzy’s tone was encouraging. How simple she made it sound. Marnie exhaled. “Legally I don’t have a leg to stand on. And if I just showed up like that she’d probably tell me to leave.” Nothing good could come of it. Troy had probably already adjusted to his new house and new neighborhood and she would be an unwelcome intrusion.

  “You could get on a plane tomorrow and be there in four hours,” Jazzy said, not giving up. Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe three. I’m not sure how long the flights are, but it has to be somewhere in there.”

  Now Marnie felt pushed. “I don’t fly,” she said firmly. “Never, ever. I have a huge problem with planes.”

  “You could drive,” Jazzy said. “I would go with you.” She turned to the group. “Is anyone else game? Who wants to go?” The room was suddenly quiet. “Rita, how about you? Do you like road trips?”

  “I used to go on road trips all the time,” Rita said wistfully. “But I haven’t for years.”

  Jazzy gestured enthusiastically. “It sounds like you’re due for one then. Have you ever been to Las Vegas?”

  Rita shook her head. “My daughter and I talked about going, but we never got around to it.”

  “Well, see,” Jazzy said to Marnie. “Now there are two of us who could go with you.”

  “That’s really nice of you,” Marnie said. “But I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You weren’t asking. We offered.” Jazzy ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s really no big deal. What is it—a twelve-hour drive or so?”

  “Double or triple that if you want a more accurate number,” Rita said. “But still, it’s manageable. You could do it in two or three days, if you were motivated.”

  Jazzy said. “I love car trips. Some good snack food, good tunes, you’re there in no time.”

  Marnie shook her head. “No, I’m not going to drive to Las Vegas. I appreciate the offer, though.”

  The room grew silent. By looking at their faces, Marnie thought she could almost read their minds. Some of the women thought she should go to Las Vegas, make a ruckus, and try to convince Troy to come back with her. Others thought she should let go and move on with her life. But all of them were sympathetic because they were women and they understood. It seemed to her that men coped better with loss, or maybe they just didn’t show it in the same way. This group understood what she was going through.

  Marnie cleared her throat. “I’ve taken up enough time.” She looked around the room. “Who’s next?”

  “Rita,” Jazzy said. “I don’t think you’ve shared your heart’s desire yet.”

  “Oh, Jazzy,” Rita said, sadly. “I showed you photos of my heart’s desire. My daughter was the world to me. There’s no getting her back.”

  “Still,” Jazzy said. “You must have hopes and dreams that haven’t been realized yet?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not even one hope or dream?” Jazzy’s voice was wheedling now. “Even one?”

  Rita looked at the floor. “Lately I hope for justice and I dream of vengeance. Is that what you had in mind?”

  “No.” Jazzy’s face clouded. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Rita said. “It’s fine that you’re upbeat and full of great ideas. I like your energy. But you’re young. You’ll find out someday that some things can’t be resolved that easily.” She shifted in her seat. “Or at all.” For a moment it looked like she might bolt out of the room.

  Leticia, who was sitting on the opposite side of the circle, said, “Maybe it would help if we said a prayer for Rita to find peace? Would you mind?” Marnie could feel the change in Rita: it was just the right thing to say. Rita nodded gratefully. Without being cued, the women linked hands and bowed their heads. “Dear God or the Goddess or whatever entity we each believe in,” said Leticia. “Please help our friend Rita find peace and joy in her life. Some justice would be good too. And let Marnie make peace with losing her stepson.” And one by one, she included everyone in the group, ending with, “And thank you for connecting us and for bringing Jazzy to our circle.”

  When the prayer was done, Marnie found herself joining the others in saying a heartfelt “Amen,” which was odd because lately she’d lost faith in almost everything.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning in the grocery store Marnie had just put bananas in her cart when she spotted Matt Haverman, Troy’s best friend since third grade. “Hey, Marnie,” he said. He leaned against a display, his butt resting up against a row of pomegranates. “How’s it going?” The confidence of this younger generation amazed her. What a difference from her own teenage years when she barely made eye contact with grown-ups. Matt could converse with any adult with ease. In fact, sometimes when he’d been at their house, he’d wander out of Troy’s room just to talk with Marnie. She’d had better conversations with him than she had with most adults.

  “Hello there,” she said, her smile genuine. Matt was one of those long-limbed kids, the kind who stretched as they grew. Today, wearing loose khaki shorts, she could see that he had hairy man legs. She thought of the old saying, So long the days, so short the years. So true. At least that’s how it seemed when children were growing up. Her thoughts were interrupted when an automatic sprinkler off to one side kicked in, misting a section of vegetables.

  Startled, she and Matt both turned to look. Matt laughed. “Whoa, dude. That scared me. I didn’t know the vegetables took showers here.”

  Matt was in a chatty mood. He pointed to where his mother stood talking to another woman and explained that he had come along to help. “Mom needs me to carry the dog food and water softener salt. She says the bags are too heavy.” He rolled his eyes.

  “That’s good of you,” Marnie said. “I’m sure she appreciate
s it.” She rifled through her purse looking for her list.

  “Hey, what’s the story with Troy?” Matt asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How come he’s going to that camp?”

  Marnie’s heart sank. How was it that Matt knew all about Troy’s life, but she didn’t? “I don’t really know anything about what’s going on with Troy,” she said slowly. “Kimberly has custody of him now. I don’t have any say in things.” She looked back into her purse, a distraction to keep her eyes from filling with tears. Aha, there it was—a folded piece of notebook paper with her handwritten grocery list. Bananas were at the top. “So he’s going to camp?”

  Matt nodded. “The middle of the month. It’s some survival camp thing not too far from his mom’s house. It lasts like six weeks. Troy said his mom had to find some place to put him because she’s going to be in Europe. He’s really pissed off about it. I told him not to kill himself.”

  “Why would you say that?” Marnie asked, alarmed. “Did he say he wanted to kill himself?”

  “No.”

  “Why would you say such a thing, then?”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. His dad just died and he had to move. The dude’s depressed, that’s clear. He’s never on Facebook, and when I text him he’s in a mood.”

  “I would have taken him for six weeks if he needed a place to go. They didn’t even ask,” Marnie said.

  “Yeah, he wondered about that, but his mom was pretty set on this camp.”

  “I miss him so much,” Marnie said. “I can’t even tell you how much. My heart hurts.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “He misses you too.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He said he did,” Matt said, shrugging. Then seeming to lose interest in the conversation, he picked up a pomegranate, tossed it up in the air, and effortlessly caught it.

  Marnie reached out and plucked the fruit out of his hand. “He said he missed me?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Those exact words. He said, ‘I miss Marnie.’” She moved closer and clutched his arm. “That’s what he said?” From the look on Matt’s face it was clear her death grip alarmed him, but she didn’t care. This was important.

  “No, not exactly those words. He said—” Here Matt looked up as if the ceiling tiles might give him a clue. “He said he wished he was still here living with you. His mom is gone a lot, I guess. Even nights and weekends.”

  Marnie let go. “Where does she go?”

  Matt looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”

  “She shouldn’t be leaving him there by himself.”

  “Troy’s old enough to be home alone. He just doesn’t like it.” He shifted and looked away. “I have to get going. I think my mom needs me.” And without saying good-bye, he turned and ambled away.

  Behind him, Marnie called out, “Matt, wait!”

  He paused. “Yeah?”

  “You said Troy is going to camp the middle of this month. Did he tell you the exact date?”

  “Not really. Just that it was coming up.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Marnie stayed by the bananas, processing what he’d said. Troy missed her. He really missed her. And he hated Las Vegas. Okay, Matt hadn’t used the word hate, but it wasn’t much of a stretch. And Kimberly was never, ever home. Typical. According to Brian, Kimberly liked to go to upscale boutiques, classy restaurants, and new art gallery exhibits. Hardly the type of places that would interest a teenage boy. And now she was discarding him by sending him off to camp for six weeks when Marnie would have been overjoyed to take him. How unfair.

  Marnie had been hearing about Kimberly for years, but she realized now she didn’t know the woman at all. God only knew what went on there, what Troy was being subjected to.

  A portly red-haired lady stopped her cart and leaned around Marnie to pick up a bunch of bananas. Marnie stepped out of the way and resumed her shopping. As she pushed the cart toward the pasta aisle, she made a firm decision.

  She was going to Las Vegas.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jazzy had to finish up the work week, and Rita needed time to cook and stock the freezer with meals for her husband, so the trip was scheduled for Saturday. Marnie hated to wait, but she didn’t want to go alone.

  When the day came to leave, Marnie was ready. The post office had been notified and would hold her mail; she’d finished the milk and tossed other perishables, and she put the living room lights on a timer. She considered telling her mother and siblings that she’d be out of town, but decided against it. It would only be a week. It’s not like they talked more often than that anyway. And she’d have her cell phone with her. If someone really wanted to reach her, they could.

  She’d had difficulty sleeping since encountering Matt in the grocery store. His words kept running through her mind. Troy was alone. He was unhappy. He missed her. In her memory he was the little boy who’d cried during thunderstorms because he was worried about the animals outside. He’d been a sweet, sensitive child. She knew that underneath the surly teen exterior that sweet child was there still.

  After hours of not being able to sleep, she got up and brushed her teeth. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, it was like looking at a stranger. Alone in the world, she didn’t know who she was anymore. She put on her glasses and smoothed her shoulder-length hair, studying her face for clues to her identity. During the school year she was Ms. Mayhew, to her siblings she would always be little Marnie, and to Brian and Troy she had been Marn. Troy. The thought of him made her smile. Oh, she loved that boy beyond measure, but she wasn’t his mother, and never would be.

  Marnie had picked up the phone a dozen times that week, and each time, she had decided against calling and set it down again. She wanted to catch Kimberly off guard. Part of her too worried that Troy would put on a brave face and tell her not to come. That wasn’t an option anymore. Marnie had made up her mind. She had to see him in person because she needed something. What that something was, she couldn’t quite say. Closure? Reassurance? Knowing that she had mattered.

  And part of her wanted to steal Troy away. To tell Kimberly that he wasn’t going to camp, that he was coming home with her. To reclaim her child. Marnie shook her head at the thought. She’d never have the nerve.

  When Rita and Jazzy arrived, they pulled up next to the curb in front and gave a little honk. Marnie went to the window to see them climbing out of Rita’s car. With Rita’s silvery gray hair cropped into a bob and Jazzy’s flowing blonde hair, the age difference was obvious; they could be mother and daughter. Jazzy wore a loose-fitting sundress that tied in the back while Rita was her usual classy self in capri pants, a white blouse, and strappy silver sandals. When Jazzy glanced up, Marnie held up a finger to indicate she’d be down in a minute.

  She’d already dragged the cooler onto the upstairs landing and was back inside double-checking the thermostat and lights when Rita came through her open door. “If you need some help, we’re here,” Rita said, then turned around to see Jazzy hadn’t followed her. She shrugged. “She was right behind me a second ago. Anyway, I’m here. Can I help you with something?”

  Shimmying the cooler back and forth, they managed to get it down the stairs. Rita took the lower part and stepped backward, one stair tread at a time. “What do you have in this thing?” Rita asked, straining from the weight.

  “I know it seems like I went overboard,” Marnie said, “but I believe in being prepared. My philosophy is that it’s better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”

  “My philosophy is that it’s better to travel light. If you forget something you can always pick it up on the way,” Rita said, pausing to rest for a moment. She turned and bellowed, “Jazzy!”

  When there was no response she said, “I do believe we’ve lost our young friend.” She wiped her forehead with her palm. “Which is unfortunate, because she’s the navigator.”

  They continued down the steps, ma
king the turn at the halfway point. “If you don’t know the way, I have maps,” Marnie said.

  “Maps, schmaps,” Rita said. “Who can read those things anyway? Jazzy brought a GPS.”

  When they got outside, Marnie was relieved to see that the car had a sizeable trunk. “Nice car,” she said, as they wrestled the cooler into the opening.

  “It’s not just a car. It’s a Crown Victoria,” Rita said, her tone mocking. “My husband is in love with it. He was a little nervous about letting me have it.”

  “I appreciate you driving,” Marnie said. “My car is on the small side.”

  “No problem. I like to drive, and I haven’t been on a road trip for years.” She held her keys and looked at the house. “Do you need more help?”

  “No, all I have is the suitcase. I can do that by myself.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  When Marnie came back down, luggage in hand, Rita again brought up the fact that Jazzy was nowhere in sight. “Is this something she does?” she asked, looking around.

  “Not that I know of,” Marnie said. The sun was high in the sky. It was comfortably warm, in the midseventies, and not too humid. At last they’d gotten ideal weather—and she was leaving it behind.

  “So she doesn’t generally wander off?” Rita brushed her hands against the front of her pants.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Marnie said. “I haven’t known her for very long.”

  “You haven’t known her for very long? Aren’t you two related?”

  “No. I just met her at the grief group, same as you.”

  “Hmmm. For some reason I thought the two of you had a connection. Relatives or neighbors or something.”