In the generous and kind manner the Cordoba family always displayed, Hector’s mother prepared a special dish and sent it to Ellie via Hector.
“My mother asked that I bring you this.” Hector had smiled with delight. “Lechon asado and papas rellenas. Marinated pork and Cuban potato balls.”
“Oh, Hector. That was so kind of her.” Ellie’s mouth had been watering. Aside from her bland chicken and fish dishes, and occasionally pasta, Ellie wasn’t a very good cook. It was ages since she had savored something this good. “It looks and smells delicious.”
“Oh, it’s one of my favorites! Good thing my mom let me use her car; otherwise, it would be Cuban goulash if I had been on my bike!” Hector joked through the window.
“Please tell her how much I appreciate it. I can’t wait to dig in!”
“I will tell her. She is quite proud of her cooking, so I hope you like it. Have a good night.”
Buddy nudged Ellie’s knee, bringing her thoughts back to the kitchen in which she was standing. She looked at her roast-beef sandwich. “You’re no ropa vieja, either.”
She washed down a bite with a swig of what was left of her morning coffee. It didn’t matter that it had been sitting around for a couple of hours. She didn’t mind it at room temperature. It was like iced coffee without the ice.
Buddy watched her in anticipation of a taste of the sandwich. “OK, you beggar. But this is it.” Ellie tore off a small piece of her sandwich and made Buddy give her his paw before she rewarded him. “Good boy.” She gave him a smooch on the head. Percy was still sitting on the counter, looking bored to tears.
After finishing the last bite, Ellie washed the dish and coffee mug. “Why do I even bother to use a plate?” she asked out loud. “I don’t even sit down.” She shook her head at herself.
“OK, guys. Back to work.” Ellie headed back upstairs, with Buddy at her feet and Percy meandering at his own speed.
She logged in, letting her client know she was available for customers. Within minutes, one of her computers dinged. It was an e-mail coming in on her other screen.
[email protected]. It was from Kara. This was something out of the ordinary. They rarely exchanged e-mails. Ellie had told her that her work was top secret and that she should only contact her in case it was an emergency.
The e-mail read:
Call me ASAP.
Ellie jumped up and grabbed a new burner phone package. She tore it open, made sure it was charged, and dialed Kara’s number.
“Hello, is that you?” Kara breathed heavily into the phone.
“Yes. What’s going on?” Ellie tried to mask the panic in her voice.
“Christian heard from Rick.” Kara gasped.
“Oh my God.” Ellie sat back down in her chair.
“How? Why? Where is he?” It had been two years since she had heard her ex-boyfriend’s name. She was starting to shake.
“Why? Because he needs money, that’s why.” Kara could barely keep her composure.
“Where is Rick?” Ellie couldn’t help but ask.
“Who knows. He asked Christian to send it to a PayPal account.”
“How much money does he need?” The hair on the back of Ellie’s neck was standing up.
“Five thousand dollars,” Kara barked.
“Five thousand dollars?” Ellie was stunned.
“Yep. Five grand. Five smackeroos. Five big ones.”
“Is he going to send it?” Ellie asked.
“Not if he plans to stay married to me, he isn’t,” Kara replied.
“Did he say what he needed it for?”
“Are you kidding? That would be too much to expect from him.”
“What did Christian tell him?”
“He said he’d see what he could do.”
“Did he give him a phone number to call him back?” Ellie was hoping for a “yes” answer, but didn’t really expect one.
“No. He said he was using someone else’s phone and that he would call again tomorrow.” Kara took a gulp of air. “Can you believe that guy? After all this time? Talk about gall!”
“Was there a phone number on the caller ID?” Another disappointing response followed.
“Only if ‘Out of Area’ counts. I can’t believe that guy!”
“Wow.” That was all Ellie could muster at the moment.
“Sorry if I upset you, but I had to tell you. I just couldn’t wait until Sunday.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m glad it wasn’t some kind of health emergency.”
“Oh, it will be if Christian sends that jerk one penny! I will kick his ass.”
Ellie had to laugh at Kara’s remark. And she knew Kara was just the type who would do it.
“I will never forgive him for skipping town when you were in the hospital,” Kara said.
Ellie had a completely different opinion.
“Well, don’t be surprised if Christian tries to send him something.” Ellie wondered if she should pursue the conversation further.
“I mean it. I will throw his sorry ass down the stairs,” Kara said plainly. “If Rick can’t tell us where he is or why he needs the money, you have to think something is rotten in Denmark.”
“Yeah, especially if Rick is there.” Ellie needed more comic relief from this shocking call.
“Oh, aren’t you funny?” Kara hadn’t heard Ellie crack a joke in a very long time.
“I’m not really on a secret mission. I’m at a comedian school.” Both women broke out laughing.
“You do sound a bit more chipper,” Kara noted. “Anything or anyone tickling your fancy?”
“As if,” Ellie replied, remembering to keep up the deception. “All a bunch of geeks, dweebs, dorks, and propeller heads.” She looked down at Buddy and mouthed, “I don’t mean you,” and she patted him on the head, hoping he wouldn’t bark. That would draw a lot of suspicion, so she thought she had better get off the phone fast. On Sunday, when she normally called her mom and Kara, she would do it from the bedroom closet, keeping Buddy locked in the hallway. Sitting on the floor underneath her clothes created a great sound barrier, just in case the bell rang.
“Listen, I have to go. Keep me posted. Love you.” Ellie quickly ended the call. Had she not been shaken by Kara’s e-mail, she would have placed the call the way she normally did. Ellie let out a huge sigh of relief. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the charade with her mother and her friend.
She pulled the SIM card from the phone, cut it in half with a wire cutter, and put the small particles in the garbage disposal. She wondered how many times she could get away with that before the disposal crapped out on her. The SIM card was as small as her thumbnail, so half of that shouldn’t screw up the blades too much. She hoped. That thought led her to another: What if I need something fixed? It’s bound to happen. She tried to keep calm and not have one of her panic attacks.
Maybe it was time to invite Colleen over. Or maybe let Hector in? Her head was spinning. She had to lie down. She didn’t want to take another pill.
Ellie jumped when the buzzer rang. She must have dozed off as she fought the panic attack. She checked her watch. It was 3:30 already. Time for Jackson and Buddy. She gave that kid a lot of credit.
Even if it was raining, Jackson never missed a day.
Ellie thought about her conversations over the past couple of days. Colleen, then Kara. She surely missed girlfriend companionship.
Chapter Thirteen
Andy Robertson had lived on Birchwood Lane for the past twenty-five years. The house he had moved into was the oldest one on the block. When he moved in, there were only three houses on the street. Over the years, he had watched two more houses be built and families come and go. The houses were modest cottages, ranging from twelve hundred to sixteen hundred square feet. Many of the homes were considered “starter homes” for new families or people wanting to invest in their future. He had weathered all the ups and downs of the housing market, happy that his house had long ago been pa
id for. While the exterior of the house was pristine, inside it needed some work. He felt almost guilty that his five cars were in better condition. Almost. Once a week, he would drive to the other side of town to visit the four-car collection he had in storage there. He wasn’t sure why he kept them. Obviously, he could only drive one at a time. He thought about selling them at an auction, but that would mean he was surrendering to his age. He didn’t feel like ninety, except when he had to get out of a chair.
Andy had once owned the only antiques store in the area, and it had a steady clientele. When he turned eighty, his friends convinced him to sell the store. Ten years later, he couldn’t remember why he had agreed to do so. At least when he had the store, he got to see the people who came in to shop. Now he had to go to see someone, anyone.
Making his way to the kitchen, he navigated between the piles of fabric, newspapers, and magazines that had piled up over the years. Trying to get from one part of the living room to another was like charting a course through a maze. Some of the stacks were so high he couldn’t see over them, and he was over six feet tall. The very thought of sorting through so much stuff made him weary. He occasionally worried that if anything happened to him while he was inside, there would be no way out. Not easily.
He ambled into the kitchen, another room in dire need of a dumpster. It wasn’t so much that it was garbage—just a lot of unnecessary things. How does one sort through years of Time magazine or Life? He knew there was nothing on those pages except nostalgia, but he just wasn’t ready to part with the shiny pages that chronicled the last twenty-five years of his time on Earth. He was also afraid that looking back would catapult him into the present, a place that he didn’t want to depart anytime soon. But he also did not like how the world was unraveling. He yearned for calmer, more peaceful, and cordial times. Times when people actually got out of their pajamas when they went to the store. Times when people greeted each other with “Good morning.” Times when everyone stood up for the national anthem. If he thought about it for too long, it would make him weep.
Even though he barely participated in most social gatherings, he enjoyed visiting the neighbors for summer barbecues. He was always invited, and he appreciated the opportunity to mingle with others, something he missed since he had shuttered the antiques store. He had no family, no significant other. Life could be lonely. He often wondered why that young woman at the end of the block was a shut-in. He thought that if he was still in his thirties, he would be painting the town. To him, her situation was incredibly sad. She had no idea what she was missing, and if she lived to be his age, she would most likely have regrets. He recalled a quote often attributed to Mark Twain but in reality Jackson Brown, Jr. said it:
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines! Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
He knew it so well from memory. It was on a plaque that had once hung in his antiques shop. He looked around at all the clutter. He knew the plaque was somewhere under one of the piles. He chuckled. “Twenty years? What I wouldn’t give to have those years back.”
He thought again about the woman down the street. She could use that plaque. He made a decision. He was going to find it. With any luck, it wouldn’t take too much time. Now, if he could only remember which stack it might be under. For the first time in ages, he felt he had a purpose besides making it back and forth to Sissy’s without sideswiping someone’s car.
Chapter Fourteen
Jackson was adapting well to the new situation at home. He was no longer anxious about what kind of mood his father would be in. Even though he didn’t fully understand the word “anxiety,” he knew what fear was. His father had never beaten him, but Jackson was not sure when the day would come that he would. His mom also seemed to be more relaxed. He was happy to see her smile. She was even singing when she was baking cookies. His mom had a nice voice. She used to sing at the church, but his father had made her stop. He wanted his bacon and eggs on Sunday morning when he got up, which was more like lunchtime.
After his big breakfast, his father would go down in the basement and fiddle with something. Jackson never really knew what he was fiddling with because he never came upstairs with anything to show for the time he spent down there. And if Jackson asked, his father would say, “Son, it’s man stuff.” Once Jackson pressed the issue, and his father exploded. “Don’t you ever question me, boy. You understand that?” Jackson never asked his dad a question again. He tried to remember when things were better, but it made his brain hurt to think so hard. He used his birthday parties as a point of reference. The last one was OK, but his father hadn’t shown up until most of the cake was gone, and everyone had left. His father got really mad at his mom for not saving him a piece. She tried to reason with him. “Mitchel, there is plenty left. Have some.”
“I ain’t eating no leftovers,” he bellowed.
“They’re not leftovers. We just cut it less than an hour ago,” Colleen said calmly.
“Well, you shoulda waited for me.” He took a fork and dug into the last piece on the serving platter, then threw the fork in the sink. “Next time, show me some respect.” Then he stormed down the steps to his private sanctuary in the basement.
Jackson counted on his fingers how long ago that was. His next birthday was soon, so maybe it was a year. He wasn’t sure, but he kinda thought he might be right. He then thought about Christmas. Christmas came halfway between his birthdays. That much he knew.
He recalled going with his mom and dad to get a tree. His mom had picked out a super pretty one, but his father didn’t like it. “They dry out too soon.” Finally, they let Mitchel pick what he liked. It wasn’t much different than the first one, but it was better than listening to them complain to each other in the car. His mom sat quietly during the drive home.
Once they got back to the house, Mitchel turned to Jackson, and said, “Well, son, you want to see how a real man puts up a tree?”
Jackson watched as his father cut the lower branches and trimmed the trunk. He placed the base on the trunk and tightened the screws. He reached over to the top end of the tree and pulled it up so it was vertical. But it was crooked, so his father kicked the tree over and stomped down the basement stairs. Jackson immediately began to cry.
He remembered his mother running into the living room. “What happened, honey?”
“Daddy got mad at the tree and kicked it.” He was hiccuping at this point.
His mother rocked him in her arms. “It’s going to be OK.” He had heard the same words since his birthday. “Come on. Let’s have some hot chocolate; then we’ll see if we can fix the tree.” When he got up the next morning, he was happy to see that the tree was standing upright in the corner.
Jackson was going to have his first visit with his father the next day. He was extremely nervous. He kept reminding himself of what his mother said about none of this being his fault. But how come he still felt that way? He knew his mother would never lie to him, but still, his dad hadn’t been the same since his last birthday. It had to be his fault, even if it was only a little bit. Was it because they didn’t wait for him to light the candles? Sure looked that way.
Jackson deliberated about what he should wear because he didn’t know what the plan was for the day. He knew Grammy Haywood would pick him up, but he didn’t know what they would be doing. Going bowling? Playing ball? Taking in a movie? Should he bring his bat and glove? No one told him anything, which was making him nervous.
He walked down the hallway into the kitchen, where his mom was making cookies for the school bake sale. “Hey, Mom?”
“Yes, honey.”
“Do you know what I’m going to be doing tomorrow?”
“You’ll be spending the day with your father. But you know that.”
“Yeah. But what will we be doing all day? I don’t know if I should wear my good pants, school
clothes, or my jeans.”
Colleen realized she hadn’t been told any of the details.
“Let me call your grandmother and ask her.” She dreaded speaking to the woman.
When she phoned, an abrupt “Yes?” came through the phone line.
“Hello, Vivian. Jackson would like to know what the plan is for tomorrow.”
“Mitchel said he wanted to take him to see some new space movie, but I don’t remember the name. Why? Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem. As I said, Jackson was wondering, that’s all.” Jackson could see that his mother was not happy talking to his Grammy. He knew Grammy could be cranky, like his father, sometimes.
“Well, as far as I know, it’s lunch and a movie. Unless you have any objections,” Vivian replied.
“That’s fine. As long as the movie is suitable for Jackson’s age. But please don’t take him to any fast-food places.”
“We’ll take him to wherever we want. It’s our time with him, not yours!”
“Gotcha. Eleven o’clock?”
Jackson watched as his mother rolled her eyes. He started to giggle. Then his mother gave the phone a funny look. He guessed Grammy had hung up because his mother didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
“Looks like it’s going to be a movie,” his mom declared. “Some space thing.”
“Yippee!” He was excited to know that there was going to be at least one thing he would enjoy that day. He knew it was going to be weird going to the movies with his father and grandmother. He couldn’t remember if any of his friends went to the movies with grandparents. Yep, it was going to be weird all right.
* * *
The next morning, Jackson was up at the crack of dawn. He was both excited and anxious at the same time. He wished he could go over to Ms. Bowman’s house and run with Buddy before his grandmother picked him up, but then he would have to change his clothes, and he didn’t want to upset his mother. He could tell she was in one of her “worry moods.” Jackson came up with that term whenever his father didn’t come home for dinner and his mother didn’t know where he was. Once, when his father was absent from the dinner table, he blurted out, “Mom? Are you in a worry mood?”
No Way Out Page 7
