Getting Somewhere

by Beth Neff

  “I guess it is, yeah.”

  “The last I knew you were off to college and had gone to Europe for some international exchange or something. What was that like?”

  “Um. I didn’t end up going after all. I mean, I did some traveling but didn’t quite make it to Europe. I, um, . . .” Jenna and Barbara are both watching her, waiting for her to explain, but she just shrugs and smiles weakly, picks up a zucchini and then sets it back down.

  “Anyway, but then my grandmother died and I came back for that and then my grandfather was such a wreck and he just couldn’t do everything by himself, had been struggling anyway. Then he passed away, too, a couple years later.”

  “That’s terrible. You must have been so disappointed. Sounds like you kind of put a hold on your own life for them. That must have been really hard.”

  Grace looks terribly uncomfortable, casting her eyes around everywhere but on Barbara. But Barbara isn’t deterred.

  “Well, even more reason to give yourself a break. You wouldn’t be worried about getting in trouble or anything? I mean, you wouldn’t be letting this Ellie keep you on a tight leash, would you?”

  Something hardens in Grace’s expression and she shakes her head vigorously. “No.”

  “Then, come on. What if I help you clean up or whatever you need to do? Then you’ll be all ready to leave as soon as the market closes, and you’ll be home so quick no one will even miss you.”

  Grace takes a deep breath, looks over at Jenna. “Would you mind?”

  Jenna shakes her head. “If you want to go ahead, I can clean this up and just wait for you here.”

  Grace’s face suddenly looks stricken. “That’s not at all what I meant. I mean do you mind going? With us. I would never . . .” She turns to Barbara but she seems oblivious, then back to Jenna. “It wouldn’t kill us to have a little fun, right?”

  Jenna shrugs, nods.

  It doesn’t take them long to pack up the remaining produce, stack the crates on the truck. Grace seems nervous but excited, giving instructions in a high, tight voice, laughing at everything, jogging from one task to the next. When they are loaded, Barbara gives Grace directions and goes off to find her car while Grace and Jenna climb into the truck.

  Grace says the place is not far, just on the outskirts of town. She is talking rapidly, describing how she and Barbara know each other, but Jenna is listening only vaguely, keeps her gaze straight ahead, unsure what expression she should have on her face. She wants to be happy for Grace but feels a little sick to her stomach. The movement of the truck, the hot air hitting her face through the open window, Grace’s voice, all make Jenna remember that day, riding with the social worker in her car, on her way to live with her mother again.

  They’d never even asked her if she wanted to go back. There had been a few visits, her mom taking her to McDonald’s like she’d forgotten Jenna wasn’t a little kid anymore, offering to go shopping, but Jenna had said she didn’t need anything. She’d thought that was the end of it and didn’t know what to think when, suddenly, she was told to pack, everyone expecting her to be excited that she was going to live with her mom again. Every foster kid’s happy ending, wasn’t it? The dream of parents coming back, taking you home—and yet Jenna wasn’t even sure she wanted to go. Where had this near-stranger been all this time, and what had changed to suddenly make her want to be her mother?

  She could see the house in her mind that day, the rare treat of riding in a car completely cancelled out by nerves, the heater blasting in defiance of the January chill outside. It wasn’t anything like she’d remembered. She knew the minute the car pulled up to that ratty old place, its hideous green asphalt siding and slanty old roof, the screen door hanging on one hinge and the tree in the yard with just one big branch that stuck out over the crumbling sidewalk, that she wasn’t going to be able to stand it there. She felt sick to her stomach when she saw her mom rushing to the door, knowing she was supposed to hug her when she could hardly stand to look at her, her mother’s face wet with tears and the social worker’s, too, looking proud, as if she’d arranged the whole thing herself, mission accomplished. And Jenna wondered what could be so wrong with her that she didn’t even love her own mother, wanted desperately to feel something other than that the whole script had already been written and she was merely an afterthought, an intruder in her own life.

  She feels like that intruder again now. As they pull into the driveway of Barbara’s little bungalow, the tiny yard densely shaded by a giant maple tree and a boxy Honda Element parked in the driveway, everything feels miniaturized to Jenna, too small for her to fit into, and she wonders if maybe she can beg off, say she needs to just rest in the truck. But Grace’s face has a pleading look to it, and Jenna knows if she refuses to go in, Grace won’t either.

  Jenna is a little relieved when Barbara pops out of the front door and leads them around to the backyard, saying the house is too messy, brushes off a couple of metal patio chairs arranged around a small table and urges them to sit while she goes inside for the beer. When Barbara returns, she is followed by a much smaller woman, and Grace jumps up to greet her so Jenna does, too. She is introduced as Mary, but Jenna doesn’t shake her hand because Barbara is handing her a beer, Jenna hesitating only long enough to see that Grace is paying no attention, doesn’t plan to stop her or suggest something more appropriate.

  As the women talk, Jenna has a chance to study Mary, who is very slight, a little stooped, with extremely short almost-gray hair, a pinched face with features that all seem to gravitate toward the center, and an oddly crooked smile. Barbara is the opposite, fairly large, her thick fingers gripping the beer bottle in such a way that Jenna can imagine her crushing it. Despite her size and weight though, her features are almost delicate, round brown eyes fringed with long dark lashes, a perky little nose that seems swallowed by her face. Jenna finds her a little bossy but outgoing in that way that most people find hard not to like.

  Grace glances every so often in Jenna’s direction, trying, it seems, to catch her eye. Jenna, without realizing it, has scooted her chair a distance from the table and feels, rather gratifyingly, outside of the circle of conversation though she has heard every word.

  “So, Jenna.”

  She doesn’t jump but the word, her own name, feels jarring in this place, even ominous, like thunder out of a bright blue sky.

  “How did you get hooked up with the farm?”

  Grace is leaning forward again, just ready to jump in, but Jenna is anxious to handle this on her own, to remind Grace who she actually is—a practiced liar, among other things.

  “Oh, it was a program at my school. For science. We could get extra credit for it. Like summer school.”

  “Cool! And how are you liking it so far?”

  “It’s good. I’m learning a lot.”

  “You’re going to be here the whole summer?”

  “Um, yeah. That’s right.”

  Grace is looking down into her beer, almost smiling.

  “Hey, let me get you guys another beer. I guess we’re corrupting a minor. I didn’t even think of that, she looks older.”

  “It’s okay,” Jenna says. “My mom lets me.”

  Barbara laughs as she goes into the kitchen, but when Jenna turns her head, Mary is watching her with a distinctly unnerving look on her face.

  When Barbara returns, she tells Grace, “Mary and I are getting into biking again. Remember how you and I used to go around to all the trails?” Barbara is handing out the beers, plops heavily into her chair and screeches it across the concrete so she is closer to the table. She addresses Mary.

  “Grace was a hell of a cyclist. Worked at the bike shop some, too.” She smiles at Jenna. “It would be fun to go ride some time. Think you’d be up for it?”

  She is looking directly at Jenna so she is forced to respond.

&nb
sp; “I don’t actually know. I’ve never ridden a bike.”

  Barbara looks incredulous. “Are you kidding? Never ridden a bike? Oh my god, Grace, you’ve got to get this girl on a bike. I bet she’d love it. You still have your old mountain bike?”

  “I had several. I suppose they’re up in the barn. I never thought to look.”

  “Do it, girl. We’ve got to go sometime. It would be a blast. Don’t you think?” She turns and nudges Mary. Mary just smiles, as if indulging a child.

  Barbara shakes her head. “You know, Grace, I just never expected to find you back here.”

  Grace laughs a little and shakes her head. “Me either.”

  “How has it been? I mean, are things better around here than they used to be?”

  Jenna thinks of the awful farmer at the market, leans forward just a little to hear what Grace is going to say.

  Grace is twisting the bottle between her fingers, begins to pick at the edge of the label in an attempt to peel it off. She shrugs finally.

  “It’s okay, I guess. We just kind of keep to ourselves, you know? I don’t really know what people think, but I’m not too interested in finding out.”

  “You know,” Mary interjects with an edge in her voice that Jenna wonders if Grace hears, too, “hiding like that can just be a symptom of internalized homophobia, like accepting the shame that’s thrust upon us by family and society. You’ll never find out if you don’t give people a chance. They might surprise you.”

  Grace lifts her face to Mary with a slight, rather pained smile. “I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime and I don’t tend to be too fond of them.”

  Barbara laughs loudly as if Grace has made a hilarious joke. “Oh, Grace. Always the dry sense of humor. And always the private one, too, weren’t you? I guess that’s why I figured, once you got out of here, you’d stay as far away as you could get. Mary and me, we’ve decided to try to make a go of it here, not hide anything or pretend to be somebody we’re not. I guess we figure what have we got to lose?”

  Grace nods a bit but doesn’t say anything. She swigs down the rest of her second beer in one long draft and sets the bottle down on the ground again, slaps her hands on her thighs.

  “We better be going.” She turns to Jenna. “You ready?”

  Jenna can’t contain a bit of a smirk. She’s been ready since they got here.

  “Well, now you know where we are and I know how to find you, too. You won’t get rid of us now,” Barbara says gaily. “Here, let me write down our phone number. How about e-mail, Grace? Is that a good way to get in touch with you?”

  Grace nods. “Sure. You guys will have to come out and see the farm, meet everybody sometime,” she says with somewhat strained enthusiasm.

  “And let’s go biking. Really. You know, I have an older bike I’m not really using. Why don’t I give it to you for Jenna here?”

  “Oh no, we couldn’t do that. Thanks, Barbara, but I’m sure I’ve got something at home that would work.”

  “No, seriously. I never ride this one anymore. I’d love to have someone use it. Just to learn on. And then, if she likes it and wants a bike, you can fix up one of yours or whatever. I’ll walk out with you. It’s in the garage.”

  The women exchange scraps of paper. Then Grace and Jenna walk around the house while Barbara enters the garage through a back door and lifts the front accordian door from the inside, emerges walking beside a silver-blue Fuji road bike that looks like she just got done polishing it.

  “Barbara, I don’t think we can take this.”

  “You’re not taking it. You’re borrowing it. Come on. It’s a favor for me. I really want somebody to ride with, and this will give you some incentive to get in shape. It will slide right up there next to the crates, don’t you think?” She is lowering the tailgate on the truck before Grace can protest anymore. Barbara steps aside as Grace lifts the bike into the bed of the truck, Jenna reaching over the side to straighten the front wheel so it glides easily into place.

  Barbara smiles and nods with satisfaction, her hands on her ample hips.

  “Hey, you guys make a great team. Let’s get together real soon. I am so glad to see you again, Grace. Now I’m sure coming back here was the right thing to do.” She takes Grace into a long and hearty hug, and Grace hugs her back, just as hard. Barbara stands in the driveway and waves until they are out of sight.

  As they swing around a curve onto Main Street and past the post office, Jenna suddenly remembers Lauren’s letter.

  SARAH WAKES TO sunshine streaming through her window, amazed to realize that she must have slept all the way through from yesterday afternoon, though she does vaguely remember Donna nudging her awake sometime after dark to take some pills. It takes her a minute to orient herself, recount yesterday’s events to conclude that this must be Saturday. Weeding. That’s where everyone would be on a Saturday morning. Except Grace, of course. Strange to feel alone up here, like she might actually be missing out on something.

  Her throat is completely parched, and she lifts onto her elbows to search out the glass of water she’s pretty sure Donna left by her bed. Though she can’t actually see anything floating in it, it looks kind of cloudy, dusty or something. She could just refill it in the bathroom, but she’s kind of curious to test her strength, wondering how sick she really is, if it’s just the combination of the cutting and the amps Lauren gave her or if she really has some flu bug that’s wearing her out like this.

  Sarah makes the trip to the kitchen on shaky legs, gets her drink and is sitting down at the kitchen table to rest before attempting the climb back up the stairs, when she hears the front door open and shut, but quietly, as if someone is trying not to be heard. She pushes herself up and steps over to the kitchen doorway and there is Lauren, looking out the front screen and then slinking her way over to the office. She has something in her hand that Sarah can’t see, but when she bends to the knob, Sarah calls out, “Lauren? What are you doing?”

  Lauren jumps a little but quickly gets her composure. “I had to go to the bathroom.”

  “That’s not the bathroom.”

  Lauren rolls her eyes and then glances through the front screen again as she moves toward Sarah. “Hey, I need your help.”

  “Help with what.”

  “Just come over here and stand by the front door, tell me if you see anyone coming this way.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Grace and Jenna went to the market, and the others are in the garden.”

  “Jenna went to the market with Grace?”

  “For godsakes, Sarah, who cares? Just watch out for me for a minute, okay? I need to make a phone call, and I don’t want them to know.”

  Sarah is stalling, wishes she had never come down the stairs. “Won’t they see it on their phone bill?”

  “I have a calling card, you idiot. Just help me, will you? All you have to do is watch out there. I can handle the rest.”

  Sarah doesn’t want any part of this. “Why would I help you and who are you calling?”

  “I’m calling Jason, not that it’s any of your business, and you’re helping me because you owe me one and don’t want me to get you in trouble, which I would be more than capable of doing, and most of all because I have something you want.”

  Sarah wants to argue but can’t think of a decent response, only has to take one hesitant step forward before Lauren turns back to the office door, does something to the knob, and the lock snaps open. She turns to give Sarah a threatening look and then disappears behind the door, leaving it open enough that she’ll be able to hear if Sarah gives a warning. Sarah wanders closer to the front door and looks out but can’t see anybody. Then she moves over to the office door and stands outside, can just make out Lauren’s voice.

  “Hey, babe, it’s me. . . . I know. I just needed t
o get in touch with you so I picked the lock on the office. . . . Yeah. . . . Right, but, Jason? Listen. I don’t have much time so you’ve got to listen. I got to get out of here. . . . I know, but I just can’t take it anymore. They make us work like mules but . . . whatever. Jason, listen . . . Will you listen? I need you to go over to my parents’. . . . No, really, you have to. Jason, you’re not going to believe it but these women are all lesbos. . . . Yes . . . No, I’m totally serious, and there’s one that will not leave me alone. She’s after me all the time, touching me and trying to get me alone. It is, like, totally disgusting. It’s sexual harassment, Jason. . . . I did. . . . No, I did. I told them. I sent them a whole packet of stuff, letters and pictures and stuff I stole from the bedroom, they should get it any day now. . . . No, it went out today. . . . Mail, of course, you ding-dong. What else was I going to do, send it on my cell phone? No, but listen, when you go there, you tell them again that I’m being sexually harassed, that I was so desperate that I called you, I know they’ll do something. . . . Well, yeah . . . Yeah, I know. I did try to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen at all. She hates me. . . . I don’t know. But Mom and Dad need to go over her head anyway, get the attorney involved. He can go straight to the judge. . . . What difference does it make? Jason, all I’m asking you to do is go to my parents and tell them what I’m telling you. . . . No, of course not. I’ll testify if I have to. Nobody is going to ask a single other thing of you. Listen, you owe me this much. I saved your ass, big time, and you know it. . . . Are you saying you won’t do this one little thing for me? . . . No, just tell them sexual harassment. They will already have all the stuff I sent them if you go, like, Wednesday. . . . Okay, then just meet with my dad . . . Yeah. Call him and meet him somewhere. He’ll think you’re a hero. . . . No, I’m sure. . . . Okay, listen, Jason, I have to go. . . . No, I really have to go. Just do it, okay. . . . Okay? . . . Yeah, me too. Okay. And thanks. . . . right. Okay, bye.”

  When Sarah hears the conversation end, she takes a couple of steps away from the office toward the front door. Lauren emerges from the office with a triumphant smile on her face.