“Do you know what today meant to me?” she asked. “I experienced the same mind-blowing joy you did when you got your taste back. And I got to be the first one to hear about you and Cody kissing. I almost cried that you let yourself be loved.”
“Cody doesn’t—”
“Shut up, Arlie. Yes, he does. That’s how it works. You feel sick at your stomach not knowing, guessing, hoping. Then the person you love—yes, that you love—admits he feels the same.”
“Love, huh? If you don’t stop talking, I’m not going to be able to stop crying.”
Mo released her seat belt and leaned across for a hug. “You made me cry too.”
I swiped at my face and managed a smile. “I want you to understand that I love Dora too. Today wouldn’t have felt as real if I didn’t tell her.”
“I guess I understand,” Mo said, refastening her seat belt. “You just have to make your uncle understand.”
CHAPTER 23
FIVE MONTHS AGO—ESCAPE
The bus station in Durango was sandwiched between a junk shop and a liquor store. The narrow building held only a ticket counter and one bench, so I waited outside on the curb.
“Spare some money for a fellow traveler?” The old man reeked of beer and he’d pissed on the front of his pants.
“Do I look like I have any money?” I pulled my backpack closer to my chest, although he was probably too drunk to cause me trouble. When he walked away, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I’d raked leaves in three yards to earn enough for the bus ride to Albuquerque. I would have to save the rest of my cash for food until I could find my dad.
The Sonic Drive-In directly across from the station was busy for a weekday afternoon. I hadn’t eaten anything in a while, but I wasn’t about to spend that much money on something I couldn’t taste.
Instead I stared at the guy on the edge of the road who was about to play Frogger with the traffic. He looked in both directions a number of times before sprinting across.
He placed his fountain drink and bag of food on the ground next to me and then shrugged off the overstuffed army duffel he had strapped to his back.
“Impressive,” I said. “Especially with that load.”
“Nah, just lucky.”
He had smooth, tan skin and wore his hair in one long, black braid like Lloyd used to sometimes. He could’ve been fourteen or twenty-four.
“Headed to ABQ?” he asked.
“Yep. You?”
He jammed two-thirds of a corn dog in his mouth and nodded.
“Name’s J. R.” He held out his hand. “You headed home for the Thanksgiving break too?”
“Sort of,” I said. “My dad’s in Albuquerque.”
I didn’t know that for certain, but saying it to another person made it feel real. I appreciated that J. R. didn’t press for my name.
“My folks live in Bernalillo. Haven’t seen ’em since August so I figured I better make an appearance.”
“Do you go to college?” I asked.
“Yeah. Second year at Fort Lewis,” he said. “You?”
“I’m not in school.” I didn’t bother to specify high school.
From my backpack, I pulled out a small paperback of Allen Ginsberg poems Mo had given me. I read while J. R. finished eating.
“Mind if I ask about that?” He pointed to his own cheek but meant my scar.
“Happened a long time ago.”
I didn’t offer any other details and he didn’t probe further. He slurped on his drink while I continued reading.
Late November and it hadn’t snowed once. I didn’t mind. The drought and above-normal temps meant I wouldn’t freeze in Albuquerque if I couldn’t find a place to sleep. If I got desperate, I’d go to the women’s shelter. I could pass for eighteen and an adult. Mom and I had gone there a few times after she’d broken up with Lloyd. We never stayed long because they required a sobriety pledge that Mom always ended up breaking.
If I got really desperate, I could call one of Rosa’s daughters and hope they didn’t still hate me because of how she died.
Yesterday, Mo and her parents had driven to Denver to visit her grandparents for Thanksgiving. I used Mom as the excuse why I couldn’t tag along. By then, I’d already decided to leave Durango. With Mo gone, the decision became less complicated. And it wasn’t like I’d never see her again. Plus, Dora would take care of Mom.
If I could find my real dad, I could convince him to help Mom get clean. He was my last hope. In the past month, Mom had been high more often than not. She’d all but stopped eating.
“Hey.” J. R. touched my arm. “I think that lady’s trying to get your attention.”
Mom had parked our Subaru on a side street behind the liquor store, almost out of view. She stood by the driver’s side door, waving at me to come over.
“Damn it,” I mumbled.
“Not someone you want to see?” he asked.
“Not today. No.”
I stood up and grabbed my backpack.
“Enjoy Turkey Day with your family,” I said. “And don’t rely on luck when crossing busy streets.”
J. R. laughed. “Will do.”
I walked over to the car and threw my pack in the backseat before joining Mom in the front. She didn’t start the car but lit a cigarette instead.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” I asked.
“All your things were gone. You weren’t at your little friend’s place, so I figured you might be skipping town.”
“Her name is Mo. And you promised you’d never go back to her house.”
Mom’s hand shook as she brought the cigarette to her lips. They were cracked and peeling, as if every bit of moisture had deserted her.
I propped my feet on the dashboard and stared at J. R. as he waited for the bus. I pictured him arriving at his own house later today, his mom and dad hugging him. What smells would be coming from the kitchen? Maybe pumpkin pie or homemade bread or fresh tortillas? I couldn’t guess what those things would smell like, but it fleshed out my idea of a holiday homecoming. I wondered if he had a grandmother who looked like Rosa. Would they have turkey or ham tomorrow, or both?
“You promised you’d never leave me.” Mom’s shaking grew worse. If I thought she could control it, I’d have screamed at her to be still just for one goddamn minute.
“You and I break promises all the time,” I said. “Roll down your window a bit, would you?” While the smell couldn’t bother me, I was tired of Mo saying my clothes always reeked.
Mom ignored my request and took another drag.
“I’m doing the best I can,” she said.
The car filled with smoke. I stayed silent because I didn’t feel like small talk.
“I got a job,” she said.
No one in his right mind would hire my mother. “Yeah, where?”
“The motel. I’ll be helping the housekeeper strip and wash linens some mornings. In exchange for rent. Dora convinced the manager.”
For a very brief moment, I felt hope. It was a queer feeling in my stomach, almost like butterflies, that I’d experienced more often as a kid. As I got older, I only felt foolish for thinking things could be different. Here I was, sixteen, and I still hadn’t learned.
We sat for a long time—long enough for the Greyhound to pick up a handful of passengers and leave the station. J. R. waved and I placed my palm against my window.
“Your dad’s not in Albuquerque,” she said.
“I didn’t think he was.”
Deep down, I knew how foolish it was to pack up and head to a city of eight hundred thousand people to find a man who may not even exist. Maybe this was just my exit strategy and I’d broken my promise to Mom after all. I did want to leave.
Mom continued smoking until the cigarette was just a nub. They were too expensive to waste.
“He wasn’t worth knowing,” she said.
“Then why was he worth sleeping with?”
At least she knew who my father was. It m
ade me ill to think I was the random outcome of one-night stands with strangers.
“I never regretted having you. That’s why I had to get you away from the foster home,” she said.
If she dared to cry, I was going to walk home. I’d just wasted fifty-nine bucks on a bus ticket that was now worthless, and I wasn’t in the mood to make her feel better about herself.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the community Thanksgiving dinner with Dora,” I said.
“That’s for poor people.”
“Anyone can go. And we’re going.”
Mom started the car and pulled into traffic.
“I don’t see why. You won’t taste a thing anyway,” she said.
I didn’t care. Like Mo in Denver and J. R. in Bernalillo, we were going to be like any other family on that day—eating turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie until we thought we’d burst.
“And you’re not getting high before we go,” I added.
Mom didn’t say another word the whole way back to the motel.
CHAPTER 24
After confronting me at Dora’s, Mo drove us straight back to the trailer so I could apologize to Frank. As we pulled up to the curb, she pointed out the dark sedan parked at the end of the block. The threat from Lloyd was real if the police were watching the trailer. Frank waited on the picnic table until I got out of Mo’s car. Then he took three long strides and wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” His whispered words were hot on my neck.
“I know you’re angry …”
“Yeah, but I’m trying not to be.”
He let his arms drop so I stepped back.
“I was at Dora’s.”
“Mo suspected that. She called me once she found you there. She asked me to quote ‘chill’ while she talked to you.”
Mo’s mediation tactic made me smile.
“I had to tell Dora … something important.”
“Mo told me you had a big day. Let’s go inside.”
I took one last look at the police officer before following Frank in. We both sat on the sofa. I kicked off my sneakers and rubbed my bare feet against the worn nap of the carpet.
“Dora doesn’t use drugs.” I wanted to ease any suspicions he might have.
“Mo told me. She said Dora’s special to you.”
“So, you know everything that happened today?” The knot in my throat almost cut off my air. What had Mo shared?
“Yeah … she said you guys were having lunch off campus. That she convinced you to have a burger and that your sense of taste came back. Just like that. Bam. No warning.”
“That’s it?”
“Isn’t that enough? It’s incredible,” he said.
“Yep, incredible. I never tasted anything so good.”
Mo hadn’t mentioned Cody. Thank God I didn’t have to talk about that on top of everything else.
“I guess I understand why you wanted to tell Dora the good news first.” Disappointment flashed across his face.
“It wasn’t like that, Frank. I just thought I’d stop by there on the way home from school. I didn’t ask Mo to take me there because she’s not exactly fond of Dora. Or, rather, the life she thinks Dora represents.”
Although it made me love Mo even more that she’d gone out on a limb to convince Frank that I had my heart in the right place, even if my brain wasn’t engaged.
“No, I get it. I really do,” Frank said. “But we don’t know if your stepfather is still around. I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want you going anywhere alone. Is that so hard to understand?”
I twisted a loose of piece of yarn from the afghan thrown over the sofa’s arm. “No, it’s not. I’m really sorry.”
“You could’ve texted me … I mean, after lunch,” he said.
“I know, but I wanted to tell you in person.” I couldn’t believe that Frank wasn’t reaming me out. I had braced for the worst. As the adrenaline wore off, I slumped into the sofa cushions. I’d never felt so physically and emotionally exhausted at the same time.
Frank got up and started rummaging around the kitchen cabinets. “Well, this means you’ve got to have something special for dinner.”
“It’s okay. I’m really not hungry.”
“Let’s go out. No expense spared. Maybe I should change into something nicer.” He smoothed his wrinkled shirt.
“I’d rather stay in. I’m pretty wrung out.” I also wanted to stay home in case Cody texted or called. Or if I got the courage to call him.
“Coke and chips, then?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
A long swallow of Coke softened the chips I’d stuffed in my mouth. I couldn’t get enough of their saltiness and the tang of vinegar. “This is better than the burger and fries.”
“Sometimes it’s the simple stuff that’s best.” Frank opened a second bag and handed it to me. “Just don’t make yourself sick. Take baby steps … er, I mean baby bites.”
We laughed comfortably as if junk food could wipe out Lloyd’s existence.
“How could I not remember how Coke tasted?” I asked.
“It’s so damn good, it’s addictive,” he said. “So watch out.”
My smile faded at the mention of addiction even though he didn’t mean anything by it.
“I just don’t get what changed today,” Frank said, oblivious to my mood change. “It’s so weird. After all this time.”
“Maybe the docs were right. It was all in my head.”
“I know, but what happened today specifically,” he mused. “Do you think talking to the police about Lloyd set you off? Were you especially emotional after I dropped you back at school?”
Emotional. Yeah, but not because of Lloyd. My heart raced as I replayed the kiss over and over in my mind. What would Cody taste like the next time I kissed him?
“I didn’t feel any different today. Does it matter why?” I shouldn’t have snapped, but I didn’t want to share the real reason with him. At least not yet.
“Of course not. Sorry. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Gift horse?”
“Never mind. It’s an old-person thing.” Frank laughed deep and low. He seemed as happy as I was to have those senses back.
“Hey, we should try making your grandma’s pralines,” I said, changing the subject. “That way I could taste one of your memories.”
“You give me way too much credit in the kitchen. Stir-frying is the extent of my culinary talent.”
I’d eaten dozens of his stir-fries, choking down the rice and ignoring the sliminess of overcooked broccoli and green pepper.
“Hey, don’t be too sure it’s a talent until I actually taste one,” I said.
Frank grabbed the open bag of chips from my hand. “Enough of the junk food. Let me make us some real food.”
I couldn’t eat another thing. My belly roiled from the burger and fries, and now the greasiness of chips. “No más, por favor. I’m about to bust.”
“Didn’t know you could speak español.”
“I can’t really. I picked up some from Rosa.”
Memories of my old friend had stayed fresh in my mind all these years. Unconditional love cemented them so they couldn’t fade with time and distance. Rosa had allowed me to be a kid. Mom had loved me, but she wasn’t the adult I needed. And Rosa gave the best hugs, rivaled only by Mo’s.
“The bastard will pay for killing your friend and for hurting you. It won’t be long before the police grab him. I’d put money on it.”
Frank was either extremely confident or a fabulous actor. Still, his assurances squelched some of the rising panic I felt. We had no idea where Lloyd was, but he knew exactly where we lived. He had the advantage.
After overdoing it with the chips, I hoped lying down would help. It didn’t. All I wanted was to fall asleep and not wake up until tomorrow, which couldn’t be as mind-blowing and exhausting as today.
“You okay in there? Need some Pepto-Bismol?” Frank was
having too much fun at my expense.
“Your concern is heartwarming, but I think I’ll live.”
Frank opened the door to my room, grinning like an idiot. When he sat down on the edge of the bed, my stomach heaved with the motion. “I’m going to pick up some tacos for dinner. Get up. You’re coming with me. We can bike over for some exercise.”
“Watch it or I’ll barf all over you.”
“Not like it’d be the first time. Oh, and you’ll really like that smell and taste.”
“I’m glad you’re in a better mood,” I said.
“How can I not be happy for you?” He leaned over and planted a fatherly kiss on my forehead.
“I’m happy for me too, but I feel like crap and don’t want to go out. I’ll be fine alone. Plus, the police have eyes on the trailer.”
“Yeah, but …”
“Frank, get on your bike and get your damn tacos. You can’t watch me twenty-four seven.”
He got up and walked into the living room, returning immediately with the fake Bible. He placed it on the nightstand.
“Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes tops.”
As soon as Frank shut the front door of the trailer, I opened the Bible and withdrew the gun hidden inside. My attempts to hit a target at the range had been worse than pathetic. Frank’s advice was that if I found myself in danger, I should keep shooting until there were no bullets left. I guess that method would improve my odds of stopping someone, but stop them from doing what?
Part of me wished I’d gone with him to get tacos. My skin prickled as I strained to hear anything but the silence of the trailer. Would the front door hold if someone really wanted in?
Get a grip. You’re freaking yourself out.
I laid the gun on the bed beside me and opened my laptop to watch a sitcom on Hulu. Maybe a little humor would calm my nerves. It didn’t. Instead, I obsessed on how thin my bedroom curtains were. Earlier, I’d stripped down to my sports bra and some pajama bottoms, but now I was self-conscious. At night, I couldn’t see out, but anyone could see in if they stood in our yard. I turned off the lamp and closed the laptop, feeling more at ease in the dark.
Burn Girl Page 15
