"He didn't seem that mad to me." Heyden said.
"He isn't. My mother is just blind to everything but her own pain. I hate living there. I hate being there. I wish..."
"What?"
"I wish that somehow we could go away."
"Boy, don't I?" He shook his head. I sensed there was an added pain or weight on his shoulders.
"Something new?" I asked.
"You probably thought I was just afraid to talk to you at school and I was avoiding you because of your stepfather. Well, there was some of that, but the real reason was I didn't want you coming back to this place."
"Why not?" I thought a moment. Now that I realized it, it was unusually quiet. Where was Elisha? Why wasn't she playing her music too loudly? "Something to do with your sister? Something's happened to her?"
She and two of her friends were caught with cocaine. Don't ask me how she and those friends of hers got a hold of as much as they did, but it was enough to have them all arrested,
Because of her age, her name hasn't been in the papers. Of course, my mother is beside herself, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it.
"We called my father, but he can't get away from his gig without losing it I'm supposed to keep him abreast of what happens next. She could go to some juvenile detention center, and if you ask me, she should."
"Where is she now?"
"Who knows. With her social worker maybe. That's a waste of time, too. In short," he said. "I couldn't be more ready or anxious to get away from it all, too."
We were both silent for a moment. "Where would we go?" I finally asked.
He lay back on the bed and put his hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling.
"We could go on the road, try to get small jobs here and there as a duet. You're almost seventeen and certainly could pass for eighteen or nineteen."
"Are we good enough to get jobs?"
"Sure we are and we look good. too. At least, you do." "I wonder if we really could do that," I said.
He sat up quickly. "Actually. I have had a wild idea for some time now, fantasizing about it ever since we started rehearsing."
"What?" I asked, my heart pounding with excitement.
"Everyone who runs away goes hitchhiking across country, sleeps in one slop house after another, or lives like a homeless person camped out in hallways and under bridges. The country is full of thousands of people our age and younger living like la-amps, doing almost anything for a meal, a ride."
"How would we be different?"
He smiled. "We would rent a motor home," he said. "It's the cheapest way to travel. Most runaways eventually run out of money and end up on the streets. A motor home is economical housing, and we would be able to always be on the move, if we need be."
"That does sound like a good idea." "Doesn't it?"
But do you know anything about it, about getting one of those vehicles?"
He nodded. "I know where I can get one relatively cheap. I found it advertised on the Internet, but it's still a lot more money than I have," he added, his smile drifting off his face to be replaced by the face of reality.
"I don't have that much available, either. All my money is in a trust."
"I figured that."
"But what about my credit card?"
"I thought about that. too. The problem is once you use that, and every time you use it, you leave a trail. Hannah. I'm sure your mother and your father would come after us. You're still underage. I might even get into trouble taking you along,' he said. "No," he continued, lying back again. "we're both trapped, "Without more money, some real money, it would be impassible," he said, quickly turning off the excitement in bath our eyes,
"Maybe I could sell things," I suggested.
"It takes time to do that, and there's a good chance you would be discovered doing it. I've pawned things. I can tell you that you don't get anywhere near the value of what you have."
"I don't like feeling like this, feeling so helpless and trapped and unloved!" I cried and threw myself against him. He put his arm around me and stroked my hair.
"We are all in our own little cages, I guess, cages we didn't create for ourselves. Like your uncle in a way."
I buried my face in his chest to stifle my sobs and tears. After a few moments I sat up and wiped my cheeks.
"I don't care what Mommy says. I'm going to visit Uncle Linden. He is surely terribly confused and alone after hearing the news. I can just imagine how he was left sitting in some corner of his room, wondering what was happening."
I got up.
"Now? You're going there now?"
"Yes." I said determinedly, "Would you come with me?"
He shrugged, "Sure," he said. "If we're going to get into trouble being together, we might as %yell do something worthwhile together."
I smiled. "You're the best friend I have now, Heyden." "I want to be more than a friend. Hannah."
You art," I said, and we kissed before starting out of the house.
It was dark now, but the sky was clear, and there was a quarter moon full of promise.
I got into the car.
"Wait," Heyden said and ran back to the house. When he emerged, he had his guitar with him.
"Might as well rehearse anyway. Maybe we'll hit the lottery or something. I'll leave my mother something, and we'll be on our way."
He strummed his guitar and played a few chords of This Land is your land, this land is my land
'Where is your mother?" I asked him. "Just finishing work. She'll be home soon,"
"Shouldn't you let her know where you are?" I asked before starting the car. "I mean, with all that's happened to your sister''"
He shook his head. "I stopped doing that long ago. Hannah, and she stopped asking about the same time. The truth is," he said. "I've left home already. The only thing is I'm the only one who knows it."
I nodded with understanding.
"I think I have as well," I said, put the car in drive, and pulled away with Heyden strumming, trying to create something that sounded hopeful.
9
Leaving in a Motor Home
.
Mrs. Robinson was very surprised to see us at
the front door of the residency.
"Oh, dear." she said. "I was so sorry to hear the
terrible news. You all must be so devastated." "Yes, we are. Mrs Robinson. Thank you. How
is my uncle since my mother's visit?"
"He took it all very badly, I'm afraid, but two
more visitors the same day will please him. I'm sure,"
she said, opening the screen door for us and stepping
back.
"What do you mean, he took it all badly?
What's happened to him?"
"Well, he didn't have any appetite at dinner
tonight, but I think he will be fine," she said. "It's so
muggy tonight: it's hard for anyone to be enthusiastic
about anything, even if they didn't have a family
tragedy. Naturally, he's a little depressed. However."
she said. smiling. "I'm sure you'll cheer him up." As usual Uncle Linden's door was closed. I
knocked and waited, Mrs. Robinson had gone back to
her living quarters and was not in the corridor. I
knocked again and called to Uncle Linden. There was
still no response. Worried now, I opened the door. The room was in total darkness, but fortunately
the silvery sliver of moon gave us enough
illumination to see Uncle Linden sitting by the
window, gazing out.
"Uncle Linden?" I said. "Why are you sitting in
the dark?"
He did not turn. I glanced at Heyden, who
looked concerned himself now, and then I crossed the
room and touched Uncle Linden's left shoulder. He
shuddered and slowly turned his head toward me, "Willow? Have you come back?"
"No, Uncle Linden.
It's Hannah."
"Oh," he said, his voice going flat.
"Why are you sitting in the dark. Uncle
Linden?"
"Am I?" he asked. "I guess I didn't realize how
long I've been sitting here."
Heyden found the light switch and snapped on
the overhead fixture and the lamp in the corner. Uncle
Linden blinked rapidly and smiled.
"Well," he said after a deep breath. "You're all
right then?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Uncle Linden," I replied. "It's
been very sad at home."
"Yes, I know." he said. He glanced out the
window again. "I was just thinking of Java del Mar.
On nights like this I would go out on the beach and sit
for hours listening to the ocean. I miss that." "I know you do." I said. It was so cruel to
continue keeping him here, lacked in his private cage,
as Heyden had said. "But it's not the same there." I
added.
"Right, right. Who was it said you can't go
home again?"
"Thomas Wolfe." Heyden replied quickly, Uncle Linden looked at him.
"I remember you." he said. "You were here
before.. Heyden, isn't it?"
"Yes," Heyden replied smiling.
"And you write songs. Written anything new
lately?"
"No, not lately, but I've got some new ideas."
Heyden told him.
"So much for him not having his wits," I
muttered. Uncle Linden smiled,
"Good. As long as you're creative, you're still
alive." he advised. He looked at me again, his brow
creasing. "So things are not good at home. How could
they be with such a tragedy?"
"No, Uncle Linden. Things are not good at
either of our homes," I added, nodding at Heyden. "Oh? Sorry about that, but sometimes there's
not much you can do about it. No." he muttered more
to himself than to us. "not much."
"You can leave," Heyden growled and flopped
in the other chair.
Uncle Linden looked up. "What's that? Leave?"
He shook his head. "I used to think about doing that.
but I never had the self-confidence, and I couldn't
leave my mother anyway, could I?" he asked,
searching for confirmation,
"No, Uncle Linden, you couldn't," I said,
patting his hand. I sat at the edge of his bed. "It's very hard to leave a mother when you are
all she has, very hard." he muttered.
"Mommy has changed so much since little
Claude's death. I feel like a stranger in my own
house." I told him. "I don't know if things will ever be
like they were again."
He nodded. "I know what that's like." he said.
"When we moved out of the main house. I felt like a
stranger. And when we moved back, it was never the
same. I tried to make it feel the same, put things back
where they were, get rid of things the Eatons had left behind, but it was different. Everything changes.
Sometimes, you just have to let go." he said. "I'd like to." Heyden moaned. "So, let go. What
would you do?"
"We're going to continue developing our
singing act together. Uncle Linden," I told him. "No
matter who doesn't like it."
"Why would anyone not like it?" He thought a
moment. "Is it one of those loud, heavy metal things?"
he asked with a grimace and his hands over his ears. "No," Heyden said. laughing. "Hardly." "So?"
"There is just a great deal of sadness and blame
raining down on us these days, Uncle Linden." I said,
trying to explain. "We're caught in the middle." "I've been in that sort of storm too often." he
said. nodding. "And there isn't an umbrella strong
enough."
Heyden shook his head. "Oh, yes, there is." he
said. "Our music is our umbrella." He looked at me.
"And it is strong enough."
You don't say. Where would you two perform
your music?" Uncle Linden asked. "On television?" Heyden lit up and leaned forward.
"No, not right away. I'd love us to go on the road. There are hundreds of small places that would want an inexpensive but talented act like ours. We'd play for restaurants, nice bars. whatever. I know we can make a go of it and see a lot of this country at the same time. We would get all the experience we need. Mostly, we would get away for a while, a long while,"
he concluded.
"So you think you're that good. eh? People
would listen to you and hire you on the spot?" "Yes. I know we are that good." Heyden said
with steely determination in his eyes as he looked at
me. "My father's a musician. It's in my blood. I've
been around it long enough and heard and seen
singers and musicians who aren't half as good as we
are.
"Now, there's a confident young man." Uncle
Linden told me.
I smiled. "That he is. Uncle Linden."
"You should go for it. then. Take a chance. I
never did. and I sit here and regret it. All I can do now
is stare out this window and wonder." Uncle Linden
said. "Don't make my mistakes. Hannah. Seize the
opportunity, if you have it."
"We don't have it. Uncle Linden. We have
dreams."
"Well, that's a start." He thought a moment.
"Why don't you have it?" he asked Heyden.
"It takes money, lots of money. I had this idea
for us: We'd rent a motor home, you know, and we'd
go on the road. That way we would always have a
place to stay that wasn't some rat heap."
"Very interesting and very sensible," Uncle
Linden said. nodding. "I've never really been in one of
those, of course, but I imagine they can be
comfortable enough."
"It's a small apartment on wheels!" Heyden
said. "With a kitchen and room to sleep five. At least,
the one I was looking at is," he concluded with a
down note.
"And you say you would just get in it and go? If
you could, you would do it immediately?"
"'Absolutely. Wouldn't we. Hannah?" I smiled.
"I'm leaving on a motor home," I sang, parodying the
famous song the folksingers Peter. Paul. and Mary
sang.
Heyden laughed and added. "Don't know when
I'll be back again."
We joined for. "Please. Uncle Linden, we've
got to go."
He laughed and shook his head, "You guys are
great. So how much is it you need really?"
"At least a few thousand." Heyden said. "We
don't have enough to rent the motor home for a
minimum of six months, which is what the owner
requires, and stake ourselves for at least two weeks.
We should get some work within that time." "A few thousand. huh? I've got money. Lots of
money and I don't have much use for it."
"We couldn't take your money, Uncle Linden."
I said quickly. I didn't want Heyden to have any false
hope.
"Oh, you won't be exactly taking it," he said. He rose and walked over to the dresser drawer.
Inside a sock he had hidden his bank account book.
He held it up. "I have ten thousand dollars in here," he
bragged.
"Ten thousand?"
"A little more." He opened the book and read.
"Ten thousand, five hund
red, and seventeen at the
moment. Is that enough?"
"Sure is." Heyden said, brightening. "We're not
taking his money," I insisted.
"No, you're not taking it." Uncle Linden said.
"I'm giving it to you as payment."
"Payment? Payment for what?" I asked quickly. "For taking me, too." he said. smiling. "You're
free to use it for whatever expenses are involved for
the three of us."
Neither Heyden nor I spoke. We looked at each
other and then at Uncle Linden.
"You want to leave Florida?" I asked.
"Oh. I know everyone thinks I'm comfortable
and about as happy as I can be living here. I know
exactly where I am and what it means. I stay because I
don't want to be in anyone's way or make any more
trouble than I have already made for my family. What
little family I have, that is.
"But," he continued, crossing the room to look
out his window again. "I'm really dying here.
Sometimes. I feel like I'm in freeze frame, stuck and
unable to move backward or forward.
Don't misunderstand me-- everyone here has
always been good to me and pleasant. But I'm like a
flower, wilting.
"My sunlight comes from what I can paint, and
what I can paint here is limited to my memories,
unfortunately. I'm sure there are many, many
wonderful and beautiful things out there for me to see
and paint.
"I wasn't completely honest with you before, Once I did try to leave on my own. I started walking away from this place, but it was as if I hit an invisible glass wall. I had to stop. and I couldn't lift my foot to move forward. Finally, shaking and weak. I turned back and just dropped myself in the chair on the
porch, feeling defeated."
"We can't take you away with us. Uncle
Linden," I said softly.
"Why can't we?" Heyden asked.
"He's under a doctor's care here. Heyden." "It doesn't sound like he needs a doctor to me,
and besides, what's the doctor doing for him here?
He's been here a long time. You told me that yourself" "Heyden...."
"I thought you always wanted to get him out of
here."
"To bring him home, not to take him on the
road!"
"Well, what's the difference? The motor home
is a home, and you heard him. He wants to see new
things, to stimulate his creativity. If you aren't
Twisted Roots Page 17
