Carry Me Home

by Janet Fox

  Hard without Daddy.

  But. Lulu would stand up.

  Now Lulu would have to think about the money. All she had of any value besides her music player and headphones was Daddy’s dead cell, and he’d long ago lost the battery charger.

  “Don’t need that old phone anyway, do we, Lu,” he’d said. “This way your aunt can’t bother us.”

  Maybe she could sell a dead phone to someone who wouldn’t mind buying a charger. But for now, after paying this week’s RV park rent, she’d have fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents left in the wallet. That would only last until the next weekend, for anything that might come up, and then she’d have to pay the RV park again and she wouldn’t have enough. She had to believe that Daddy would show up before that fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents was gone. Before the next rent note. Before the next school lunch was due.

  Before something else bad happened that she couldn’t predict, something fated to happen.

  Lulu knew for almost certain that there were no coincidences. But there sure was fate.

  15 Before

  HANGING OVER the kitchen table in the house in Texas, the house that was their home until it wasn’t, was a pale yellow glass ball. Lulu had done homework night after night by the light of that glass ball, while her mother cleaned up after dinner. Lulu and Serena had done jigsaw puzzles by the light of that glass ball, while music played on the radio. Lulu’s daddy had read the newspaper by the light of that glass ball, occasionally remarking to Lulu’s mother on one thing or the other.

  The night that Lulu had heard a noise when she was supposed to be sleeping—about six months before they left Texas and not long before Daddy had disappeared that first time—she’d snuck down the stairs, stood in the dark hallway, and looked at the kitchen table that was lit by that glass ball. The table was piled with papers, stacks and stacks of them. Daddy sat at the table with his head in his hands, and Lulu realized what the noise was.

  Daddy was sobbing, a wailing, grieving sound. She knew the word for it. Keening.

  She’d only seen her daddy cry once before. Not very long before, either.

  Lulu bit her cheek so hard she tasted blood; she was not going to cry.

  Not then. Nope. Not ever, ever, ever.

  16 Now

  ON SUNDAY, Lulu decided they had to go back to the Lutheran church. That was not the kind of church they used to go to in Texas, but for one thing Lulu knew where the Lutheran church was now and for another she felt obliged to go back and say thank you to the ladies who ran the coat drive. She found the service times in the newspaper Ms. M had given her.

  Church-going had stopped after Mama. Daddy said he just couldn’t go and listen to the choir without her singing. But really, Lulu had the feeling that Daddy was too angry at God to go back to church. She’d heard it herself, heard her daddy in the dark of night, saying “Why? Why?” and Lulu was sure her daddy wasn’t talking to himself. Then they’d gotten the Suburban and left Texas and had a very different routine from before, and because Daddy seemed happier, that was okay with Lulu.

  She and Serena sat in the back pew and listened politely to everything. When it was time to pray Lulu prayed so hard she thought the prayers would explode her brain. She hadn’t prayed in a long time, so she wondered whether God would remember her. She could feel Serena next to her, praying even harder.

  Lulu knew that Serena was praying for the same thing she was. Big, big prayers, so big she felt very small. So big she had to beg to let God know that they were really important, and please couldn’t God help, even just a tiny little bit, even if Lulu had disappeared from praying for a time?

  Please let him come back. Please make it today. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

  She squeezed her eyes tight so nothing that might have snuck past her guarded wall could sneak out.

  But when it came time to sing the hymns, Lulu found her way into the hymnal and picked up the tune and sang. She sang loud. She pushed the music right out through her heart. It was comforting, a release.

  At the end of the service a young couple sitting in front of Lulu and Serena turned around.

  “You have a lovely voice,” the woman said to Lulu. She bounced a gurgling baby in her arms.

  Her husband nodded. “I hope you’ll think about joining the choir.”

  Lulu said, “Um, we’re not members or anything. Just visiting.”

  “Just visiting,” Serena echoed. She reached up and played with the baby’s foot, and began making faces at the baby and gurgling noises, too.

  “I hope you sing somewhere,” the man said.

  “Lovely voice,” the woman said. “You should come more often.”

  The Lutherans put out a breakfast after the service and Lulu had to keep reminding Serena to eat slowly. “You don’t want them to think we’re starving,” she whispered.

  “But I am starving,” Serena said, and went back for another sticky sweet roll.

  As they left Lulu recognized the woman from the coat drive. She told Serena they needed to be polite to that nice lady.

  “Thank you for the coats. And the hats,” Lulu said. “The hats are really nice.”

  “Oh! Well.” She beamed at them, glancing from Lulu to Serena and back. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” She peered behind the girls. “Are your parents here?”

  Serena looked at Lulu, who gave her sister “the look” back.

  But Serena must have wanted to answer in some way to be polite. “Our mom’s—” Serena began.

  Lulu interrupted. “Got to go.”

  She dragged Serena down the street as fast as she could. “Don’t,” Lulu said. Serena whimpered as they went and Lulu felt terrible. But she couldn’t bear to hear the words said out loud and that felt even more terrible. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever.”

  17 Before

  EVERY SUNDAY after they’d moved to this Montana town, instead of going to church, Daddy drove the Suburban around “to keep the battery alive.” He edged carefully out of their spot, drove slowly out of the RV park, and slowly down the main road and even up the back roads. That was how Lulu had come to know the town better.

  They drove up to the mountains where Daddy showed them a river so clear they could see each rock on the bottom, and even saw fish, lying long and low on the bottom, waiting for food. He showed them how to catch a fish, which he had done a lot as a boy and was excited to do again now, and he would have showed them how to cook the fish and have it for supper if Serena hadn’t burst into tears and begged him to put the fish back in the stream.

  He said, “It’s okay, Reenie. It’s called catch and release. I’ll just release him right back and he’ll be fine. Free.” He patted Serena’s head. “Like us.”

  Daddy showed them the plants he knew and the ones he didn’t, that Lulu later looked up in the library. They walked up the trails through the wildflowers and rocks and under the wide blue sky until Serena complained. He showed them antelope, and together they sang that song they’d sung as they were driving up from Texas.

  They saw deer and more antelope and even a fox, but they didn’t see any bears, which made Lulu feel a whole lot better, but Serena was disappointed and said so.

  Daddy showed them the nice houses that had pretty gardens and big old trees in the middle of the old part of town. He had shown them where they’d be going to school. He showed them the hospital, “in case,” but Lulu always looked out the other window.

  And he showed them where he was working, a short street at the far east end of town with a dozen houses in various stages of being built.

  “I just finished framing that one,” he said proudly, in August, pointing to a small two-story that was framed and roofed and about to be weathered in. “About to start on the one next door.”

  “Is that gonna be our house, Daddy?” Serena said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  He waited a long time before answering. “Not that one, honey. But I’m working on it
. We’ll get there.”

  18 Now

  BY THE time they got back to the car after this Sunday service the day had warmed considerably. They changed out their coats from the heavy Lutheran ones to their light Texas jackets.

  “Indian summer,” Lulu said.

  “Native American summer,” Serena corrected. “Or, I think what we’re supposed to say is ingenious summer.”

  “It’s just an expression, Indian summer,” Lulu said. “And not ingenious,” she corrected.

  “Yeah, but my teacher talks about being thoughtful about Native Americans ’cause they were here first after all and to not have Columbus Day and stuff. So it’s ingenious. Not Indian.”

  “Indigenous. Not ingenious.” Lulu smiled. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “K.”

  She remembered from their Sunday drives the way to Daddy’s workplace, to that small new neighborhood on the far east end of town. They walked east in the sunlight, Lulu tilting her head back every once in a while to pick up the birdsong and smell the autumn air. Kids rode by on bicycles, and people were out in their yards raking leaves. The sun was warm on the top of her head. Her long braid was hot on her back.

  She was so homesick, all of a sudden, seeing all those families at their homes, that it hurt like the dickens.

  She wanted Daddy so much it hurt even more. She wanted to be able to beg him to get in the Suburban and drive them home to the house in Texas. The mountains were pretty. But she missed missed missed that yellow glass globe light and that kitchen and that living room and her own bedroom with her own bed and she missed so much more that she didn’t want to think about; her stomach ached with missingness.

  The sunlight blinked and winked and made Lulu’s eyes smart.

  It took a while to get to the development, and the street with those new-built houses was quiet. A couple of houses were finished and even lived in, the sod just settling, the trees still tiny, but no one was about.

  Then Lulu heard the pop of a nail gun. She and Serena made for it, Lulu’s heart pounding.

  It wasn’t Daddy.

  “Hey,” Lulu said loud. It was time to try and find out something.

  The man looked down as they looked up.

  “Do you know John Johnson?” Lulu asked.

  The man looked at them for a long minute. “Hasn’t been around for a few days.” He paused. “You his kids?”

  Lulu put her guard up, hard and fast. “Oh, no. No. Just neighbors. That’s all. Just being neighborly. Seeing if he’s around.” Wishing that he was around. But he wasn’t.

  “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. Not like him to miss work.”

  “Oh,” Lulu said. It was all she could think to say and not let down her wall. She didn’t know this man. As Daddy had said, “Let’s just keep it to ourselves, girls.”

  “Talented guy. Good worker. Bragged about his kids. Two girls, about your ages.” He paused, pushing his gimme cap back and wiping his brow. “Said they were real smart.”

  Lulu swallowed.

  “I’m Hank. His boss. You see him, you tell him he’s still got the job. Real good worker.”

  “Okay,” Lulu said.

  The man hesitated. “He left his tool bag,” he said, and pointed. “Usually left it overnight when we lock up but it’s been here all weekend. Not like him.”

  Lulu walked over to her daddy’s tool bag. The canvas was pocked with small holes and bulged with the odd shapes of hammers, screwdrivers, and pliers, and even a couple of expensive tools like electric drills.

  She could say something to this man, Hank, her daddy’s boss, right now. She could tell him the truth. But she didn’t know him. He was another grown-up who might or might not stand up and do the right thing.

  But Lulu would stand up, as she already had.

  Her daddy was very attached to his tools. He wouldn’t leave them just lying around like that all weekend. That was so unlike him. So unlike.

  “A guy’s got to have his tools,” Hank said, echoing Lulu’s thoughts. “Why don’t you take the bag to him? Since you know him? Since you’re neighbors and all. Think you can carry it?”

  “Sure,” Lulu said. She picked it up, hefting it in both hands. “Bye.”

  She didn’t hear the nail gun start up again until they turned the corner back toward town and the RV park on the other side of town. Then she walked as fast as she could considering the super heavy tool bag and Serena’s slow pace. By the time they got back to the Suburban her arms ached like nobody’s business.

  19

  JACK ALMOST dropped his tray on Lulu’s head, but he managed to finesse the move at the last minute. “Whoa. Sorry. That was close.” He plucked the milk from his own tray and put it on Lulu’s. “They gave me an extra dessert. Want it?”

  Lulu hesitated, then nodded. Deana, having seen the near-catastrophe from her seat at the next table, was giggling, pointing, whispering. Lulu looked away.

  “So, tomorrow, after school, how about we rehearse for the auditions?” Jack yanked a piece of paper from his back pocket and put it down in front of Lulu.

  Tryouts! it read. Join the fun at Schoolhouse Rock The Musical! Be part of the team! Just bring your best singing voice and dancing feet. 4PM Friday. Gym.

  “I can’t dance,” Lulu said, looking up at Jack.

  “No problemo,” Jack said. “I can show you a few steps. But like you said, you can sing? Awesome.” He ate as if he’d never eaten before. “I like your new coat,” he said with his mouth full.

  “What?” she said, not able to understand the words.

  “The new coat. I saw you in it this morning. It’ll be good all winter. Especially come February. It’s the wind around here that’ll get you. So that coat’s perfect.”

  “Oh. That’s good.” He’d seen her in the new coat. Did he walk to school, too? She didn’t want to be seen coming from where she was coming from.

  “So, tomorrow, we can get together when the bell rings at the end of the day and I’m pretty sure the gym will be empty and we can rehearse. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Lulu said. Music. Singing. She’d been so happy singing those hymns. She’d forgotten how happy singing made her. “Okay.”

  She smiled and Jack smiled back.

  As she left school for after-school, she heard Deana say behind her back, “She looks like the Michelin Man. You know, the one who’s made out of tires.” Deana was wearing something sleek and form-fitting with fake fur insides. She looked like a princess.

  The other girls with Deana laughed.

  20

  THEY WERE back to making origami animals in after-school. This time, when Lulu had finished her homework, she asked Laurie to show her how to make a paper crane.

  “Oh, so you know the story, right?” Laurie asked while she showed Lulu the folds. “We read it in middle school, too. The thousand paper cranes that girl made? That’s a lot of cranes. But the legend goes that’s what you need to make a wish come true, one thousand of them. Except that she died, poor thing. Leukemia. Aftermath of the Hiroshima atomic bomb.”

  Lulu thought a thousand paper cranes was a lot, too, especially after she started trying to make her own. Then she thought—and shoved aside—the idea that wishes might not come true. That Sadako did not survive. Lulu buried that idea right under the table where she sat next to her sister. Because wishes should come true.

  “This is hard.” Lulu set her first messy attempt to the right of her new sheet of colored paper.

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Let’s go more slowly. Oh, and if you do this at home, you need squares of paper, not rectangles or anything else. Here.” Laurie handed Lulu a whole stack of brightly colored paper.

  Lulu slipped the stack of paper into her backpack. A stack of wishes, waiting to be made.

  By the end of after-school Lulu had succeeded in making one marginally okay green paper crane. One thousand, she thought once more, was a lot of cranes.

  “Your dad not here again?” Laurie asked. T
oday she was also wrapped in a bigger, warmer coat.

  “They changed his hours,” Lulu lied.

  “But Lulu knows how to get home from here,” Serena piped up. Lulu looked down and smiled.

  “Okay, I guess. Technically, I’m not supposed to let you go without a parent,” Laurie said. “I could get in a lot of trouble.” She paused. “Maybe you could bring me a note from him? Saying it’s okay?”

  A pit opened in Lulu’s stomach. “Sure.” Then she remembered. “Oh, but tomorrow I won’t be in after-school. I’ll be picking up Serena at four.”

  “Why?” Serena asked, face turned up.

  “Play rehearsals,” Lulu said.

  “Play rehearsals?” Serena echoed.

  “Okay,” said Laurie, making for the door. “But be sure to bring that note from your dad, okay?”

  The pit widened.

  * * *

  Cooking dinner was really hard now that it had gotten cold. It was hard to start the camp stove. The wind would pick up at the wrong time and blow out the fire. Lulu needed her big coat against the chill but it was so puffy it made it hard for her to move, hard for her to scrunch down next to the stove. Some nights she didn’t bother to shower, between the cold and the effort of making dinner.

  “Beans and rice again?” Serena groaned. “Can’t you make something else?”

  “I’ll do hot dogs tomorrow,” Lulu said. “But tonight that’s all we have.” She tried not to sound snappish but she kept going back to that note she had to produce from their missing daddy.

  In the darkness, when she heard Serena’s soft breathing, she pulled at her backpack and felt around and found the green paper crane. She held it up in two fingers against the dim light coming from outside the car.

  A wish. A thousand cranes.

  It did look like a bird, that green paper crane, in the shadows, as a silhouette. It did look like a crane. A thousand paper cranes was a lot to have to make for just one wish. But she’d started with one, as everyone did.