Calling Home

by Janna McMahan

23

  Shannon leaned forward on the bench seat and gripped the steering wheel as she drove the narrow, rutted road. Will’s truck, her truck now, screeched and rocked, reminding her of the loosey-goosey, tired old mattress on her granny’s bed. Shannon had her learner’s permit, but not her license—if she got caught driving, she’d be in big trouble.

  Jake leaned against his car in a turnout beside the rusted iron bridge. When she pulled up he lit a string of firecrackers and tossed them down the embankment, shooting a spray of dry leaves into the air and battering the quiet river corridor with echoing pops.

  “You’re just a big kid,” she said. “Where’s Rob and Kyle?”

  “They decided to drive separately. I think they’re going to see some girls in Lexington or something.”

  “You drove all the way to Falling Rock to get me?”

  “I drive all day everyday. It doesn’t matter.”

  “But I’m supposed to ride back with them.”

  “I’ll bring you back and crash at the houseboat.” He leaned in the window. “This is a good spot. This Green River?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You guys party here?”

  “Sometimes.” She pointed to a road that was only two thin tire tracks through a thicket of weeds. “I’ll leave the truck down there.”

  Shannon eased the truck into the grooves and out of sight of the road. She checked herself in the rearview mirror. This was the most makeup she had ever worn, but Pam had said that girls wore a lot of eyeliner and lipstick to concerts. Shannon spent more than an hour with the curling iron, burning her scalp to achieve the perfect feathered look that was now sprayed to a high sheen. She had borrowed Pam’s flouncy peasant blouse and worn her own skinny jeans rolled perfectly over hiking boots. Her mother would have known something was up in an instant if she had left her own house looking like this, but Pam’s mother didn’t think twice about it. She’d only be gone for six hours. Her mother would never miss her.

  When she got back up the road, Jake was waiting in his red IROC. She slid in beside him and he handed her a beer. She was relieved when he avoided the main drag through town. He shoved a cassette in the stereo and said it was a compilation tape he’d made. He drove fast, holding the car in the compact curves of Muldraugh’s Hill. Shannon thought about how her history teacher had called this area an ancient escarpment. Half an hour later, the land began to flatten and road cuts became less frequent. She’d had two beers by the time they hit Bluegrass Parkway. As they neared Lexington, Shannon noticed how wide and smooth the close-cropped fields had become. Neat white fences swept over the gentle hills of horse farms that flanked Versailles Road.

  Jake clicked off the music. “That’s Keeneland,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Thoroughbred horse racing.”

  She couldn’t see much past the limestone walls, except for a winding entrance road lined with fiery oak trees. Pillars at the entrance were topped with fancy lights. Classy-looking metal plaques read KEENELAND RACECOURSE.

  “Is it fun?”

  “If you win enough money to pay for your food and drinks, then you’ve had a good day as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Have you ever won a bunch of money?”

  He smiled. “No. I can’t pick a horse.”

  Lexington’s lights came into view and Shannon’s stomach tightened.

  “Are we far from UK?”

  “Nope. It’s over a couple of streets.”

  “Do we have time to drive by there and look?”

  “Sure. I want to take you to one of my favorite restaurants close to there.”

  Jake gave Shannon a short tour of campus—football stadium, new complex with towering dorms and athletic center, official entrance, student bookstores, and Memorial Coliseum. “That used to be the old basketball arena before they built Rupp downtown,” he said. “Rupp’s the biggest indoor arena in the country. It’ll seat twenty-three thousand.”

  “Man, that’s a lot of people.”

  He parked the car parallel with the street. “You like Mexican food?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had any.”

  “Come on then. You’re in for a treat.” The old red brick building had a large rose sweeping across its window that twisted around the words High on Rose. She followed him to an entrance cut into one corner. He pointed to the street signs at the intersection and said, “High Street and Rose Street.”

  “Oh, I get it.”

  A wave of spicy warm air washed over them when he opened the door. Inside, college students crowded around beaten wooden tables topped with flickering candles and golden pitchers of beer. It was dark and loud. Something slightly musty and sour-smelling came to Shannon’s nose. A mirror behind the bar was lined with liquor bottles. A couple of neon beer lights glowed from the walls. The whole place seemed mysterious to her, like the pool hall in Falling Rock that her mother warned her to stay out of.

  Jake slid into a back booth and Shannon sat on the other side. He flipped open the menu a waitress handed him and said, “Bring us a pitcher of Michelob dark.” His every move was confident, which made Shannon feel all the more backward. She didn’t recognize anything on the menu except taco, so when the waitress came back with the opaque brown beer, Shannon ordered two.

  Jake poured her a mug and said, “Rupp’s right down High Street. Ain’t that a kick? Rupp Arena’s on High Street. Party.”

  Shannon took a drink and said, “This is the best beer I’ve ever had.”

  “I know. It’s great, ain’t it?”

  An hour later they were full of Mexican food and alcohol. When the check came Jake paid it and said, “Let’s walk down to the concert. I don’t want to drive. There’ll be way too many cars. We’d never find a place to park.” Traffic was backed up for blocks around the arena. A cop waved his hand to stop cars. Jake and Shannon joined a river of concert T-shirts and hair entering the giant concrete building.

  “We got a few minutes. Let’s go down to the Paddock Shops. It’s like a shopping center. Lots of cool stores,” Jake said.

  Shannon wobbled when she stepped onto the escalator, and Jake grabbed her arm. A large banner overhead read, “WELCOME TO THE HEART OF BLUEGRASS COUNTRY.” On the lower level, glass cases held photos and paintings of horses streaking toward a finish line or standing stately against blue-green grass and white fencing. A couple of cases held UK hats and flags. One held a stuffed Wildcat similar to her father’s in the Big Kmart. Shannon knew that there was no such thing as a wildcat, that a bobcat was really what that animal was, but nobody else seemed to care. Jake stopped at a booth that read Old Kentucky Candies.

  “You like bourbon balls?” he asked. “Try one of these.”

  She took a dark chocolate candy from a dish on the counter and popped it in her mouth. A rush of sweet bourbon flavor made her pucker. The windows of the shops displayed crystal, leather handbags, and expensive jewelry made to look like harnesses and stirrups. There was a fancy liquor store, Home Stretch Deli, a tobacco store, and The Magic Pan, a restaurant with a sandwich board outside that said it specialized in crêpes. Shannon had no idea what a crêpe was, but she wanted to try one. She pulled her notebook out of her purse and wrote it on her list.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  “Nothing,” she said and snapped her book closed. She dug in her purse for her wallet. “While I’m thinking about it, let me pay you for my ticket.”

  “No way. It’s on me. We’re on a date.”

  “We are?”

  “Sure. At least I thought we were.” He took the tickets out of his back pocket. “You ready?”

  Music grew louder as they neared the concourse. “Don’t worry,” Jake said. “It’s the warm-up band.” He stopped at a concession stand and ordered two beers before Shannon could tell him that she didn’t want anything else to drink. When they walked into the arena she was startled by the enormous building and mob of people. “Hold on to the back of my shirt!
” Jake yelled over screaming guitars. Two boys were in their seats and Jake made a motion for them to move. They crawled forward over seats to squeeze in with friends. The band ended its set and the house lights came up as stagehands rushed out and started breaking down equipment. Christopher Cross’s song “Say You’ll Be Mine” came out of the huge speakers on stage and the audience booed loudly. Jake threw his head back and laughed. The distance down to the floor made Shannon’s vision swirl. She looked up and across the vast arena to get her bearings.

  “You’re drunk!” Jake laughed again.

  “Am not.”

  “Back in Black” suddenly blared through the arena and the crowd came alive. Everyone around Shannon sang loudly and strummed imaginary guitars.

  “You should hear it in here during a UK basketball game. The crowd’s so loud you wouldn’t believe,” Jake yelled.

  “I want to come to a basketball game.”

  “People camp out so they can be first in line to get tickets.”

  The house lights went down and bright spots roamed the crowd, cutting through a dense cloud of smoke rolling in the air above the floor seats. Ushers with flashlights showed latecomers to their seats and security people with walkie/talkies patrolled aisles to keep people in the right sections.

  “They’re all paranoid after what happened at the Who concert,” Jake yelled in Shannon’s ear. “I’ve seen Foreigner, REO Speedwagon, Cheap Trick, and ZZ TOP here. I’ve seen AC/DC twice and nothing like that shit ever happens.”

  The music was deafening, even louder than the stock car races her father took her to when she was small. The crowd leaped up and suddenly Shannon felt smothered. She stood, uncertain on her feet—too much beer and Mexican food. Jake took a joint from someone behind him. He puffed hard and the end glowed. He passed it to her. Shannon toked, hoping the weed would settle her stomach. She handed the joint back to the people behind them. The joint made a couple of rounds, but Shannon didn’t feel better. Jake stepped over the back of the seat in front of him and reached to help her.

  “Where you going?” she yelled.

  “Come on! Let’s move down!”

  They stumbled forward over the backs of chairs. Shannon hit her shin. She was stepped on by a drunk guy which made her glad she’d taken Pam’s advice and worn boots. Jake finally settled five rows from where they started, crammed in between people they didn’t know.

  She needed to pee worse than anything. She yanked on Jake’s arm and yelled, “Bathroom!” He nodded and went back to his air guitar. As she climbed the giant concrete stairs, David Lee Roth leaped from a speaker, scarves flying behind him. The arena vibrated with excitement. As soon as Shannon stepped onto the concourse and the doors closed behind her, her ears started a high-pitched whine. The concourse lights were blinding. Every person who walked past seemed pale with bloodshot eyes. Shannon thought the women in line for the restroom where all staring at her. She was hot and sweaty and she pressed her face to the cool block walls while she waited her turn. When she got in the stall she nearly tumbled backward over the toilet but steadied herself and finally lowered down onto the toilet seat, which she immediately regretted as it was sprinkled with pee. She wiped the seat and then herself and sat down again. On the back of the stall door people had written phone numbers and the names of couples encircled in hearts. The graffiti swam in front of Shannon and suddenly she realized her food was coming up. Her stomach seized and she turned around. Chunks of taco meat and tomatoes hurtled into the bowl. Her mother would be so ashamed of her. Bile would forever be the taste of shame for her. She wiped her face with toilet paper and wished she were at home so her mother could rub a wet cloth over her neck. Shannon said a prayer. “Please God, don’t let my mother find out what I’ve done and I promise I’ll never, ever do this again.”

  A girl knocked on the stall door. “Hey, you all right in there?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” Shannon came out and she saw herself stagger slightly in the mirrors over the sinks. Her makeup was wrecked—eyeliner smudged below her eyes, sweat beaded on her forehead, her lips pale and dry, but at least she felt better. She wet paper towels and applied them to her neck, but they smelled sour and reminded her of the sawdust that school janitors sprinkled on puke before they cleaned it up, a thought that nearly made her sick again.

  When she got back, Jake didn’t act as if she had even been gone. Shannon said another prayer that the Juicy Fruit she was chewing would be enough to mask her rancid breath in case he decided to kiss her. Jake passed her a fresh, cold beer and although she knew she shouldn’t drink any more she began to take small sips to wash away the taint in her mouth. Van Halen played a song she recognized and she soon forgot about being sick. The audience demanded two encores and people grumbled loudly when the house lights went up for good. The crowd filed out more sedately than they had gone in. Everyone squinted against the harsh concourse lights. Jake put his arm around Shannon’s shoulders. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and nearly fell down.

  “Let’s go somewhere and sit down,” Shannon said.

  “In there!” He pointed to the entrance to the Hyatt Regency on the other side of the Paddock Shops. “They’ve got a bar in there.”

  “No bar. Let’s go home.” Shannon was having a hard time holding him up and they bumped into people.

  Jake laughed and said, “Sorry, man.”

  “No problem,” a guy said.

  “Shit. I can’t drive. Let’s go get some coffee,” Jake said.

  Shannon thought that their best option was to wait until they weren’t so messed up. People were packed in the sunken bar. Jake elbowed his way to the only vacant seat and offered it to Shannon. When they finally got the bartender’s attention she eyed Shannon suspiciously. “Can I see your ID?”

  “Just coffee,” she said.

  “And you?” she said to Jake.

  “Wait a minute,” Jake said, holding up his hand. “I gotta whiz. Be right back.”

  The bartender rolled her eyes and walked away. It was a long time before Jake reappeared. “Come on, girl,” he said throwing a dollar on the bar. “Got a surprise for you.” She followed him onto an elevator packed with laughing people. A couple in back groped each other, their tongues eagerly flicking in and out as they kissed. Jake pulled Shannon to him and parted her lips with his.

  Shannon blindly followed him inside a room. He parted the curtains and looked down. “I think they’re building a park there,” Jake said. Shannon peered at the construction site below, and the effort made her head throb.

  Jake flopped onto the bed and said, “I can’t drive back tonight. I’m too tired.”

  Shannon tried to focus on what he was saying, but she was confused. Finally she said, “You don’t mean spend the night.”

  “Everything’s fine. We’ll get up early and I’ll have you back in Podunk before the rooster crows.”

  She had a roller-coaster sinking sensation, like the bottom was dropping out. She leaned against the wall. “What if I drive?” Her voice was frayed at the edges.

  He laughed. “You’re too fucked up to drive. Just look at you.” He took a small brown bottle from his pocket, tapped white powder out onto the bedside table, made two lines with a credit card, rolled a dollar bill, and held it out to her. “Don’t stress. Look, I’ve got a shitload of tickets. If I get pulled over one more time, I go to jail. You’ll be home early. Now come here.” He patted the bed beside him.

  “What’s that?”

  “Coke. Ever done it?”

  “No.”

  “Get ready for a sweet ride. If this don’t wake us up, nothing will.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Suit yourself.” He leaned down, snorted a line, and jerked his head back, sniffing loudly. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  “No. You have to take me home.”

  “Come on over here. I won’t bite. Aren’t you tired?”

  Shannon felt like she could sleep for a week. Tears of frustratio
n pushed against her eyes.

  “Crap. You’re not going to be one of those girls who gets fucked up and then goes on a crying jag are you?”

  “No,” she said but continued to cry.

  “Look. We’ll leave early. I’ll have you back in the morning.”

  “I have to be back before nine.”

  “Absolutely. I promise,” he said.

  She had to lie down or pass out standing up. She slipped onto the bed and curled into a ball with her back to him.

  “At least take off your boots,” he said.

  She unlaced her boots and kicked them to the floor. She didn’t bother to get under the covers, but pulled her jacket tightly around her. She had to trust that he was going to get her home in time. If she got home early enough, everything would be okay.

  “Hey, don’t be mad at me,” he said. “Turn over here.”

  She rolled over and looked at him. He ran his hand down her cheek. “You look like an angel with all that pretty blonde hair.”

  In the car she had wanted him to hold her hand like some kid in junior high and now here he was ready to kiss her, really kiss her this time. She knew she shouldn’t let him, but she had thought about his kisses since the day she met him. What could it hurt? Just a kiss and then she could sleep.

  He lowered his lips onto hers and his tongue probed smoothly in her mouth. He moved close and pulled her to him. His mouth tasted strange and Shannon thought it must be the coke. He pressed against her leg and suddenly she was wide awake. She put her hand on his chest.

  “Don’t push me away,” he said.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You’re a little cock tease.”

  “I am not!” She moved to roll off the bed, but he grabbed her, threw his leg over her middle and straddled her.

  “Get off!” Shannon kicked and bucked trying to throw him aside. He pinned her wrists. The more she struggled the tighter he held her down.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  “I like you. You want to be my girl, don’t you?”

  “Get off me!”

  She stopped struggling and grew calm thinking perhaps he would respond to reasoning. “I want to go home. Please take me home.”