When Lara reached out and took Cora’s hand, she saw fear in her eyes.
11
Lara’s FAC (or Food Allotment Card) still showed a balance of fifty dollars. The problem with the card was that it was all but useless in a place where your choices were limited to prepared food. After all, the Mall had been designed for those with disposable income, not those on public support.
Welfare, she scoffed. Her father would have been mortified if he’d still been alive.
She’d never thought that she would be in the position of having to raid Uncle Sam’s pockets like this. Her parents had raised her to be self-sufficient and had condescended to those on welfare. Even during the lean times, her proud hard-headed father had never stooped so low as to apply for unemployment.
God will provide, she could remember her mother saying with that devil-may-care smirk and a look of barely masqueraded doubt just behind her deep-set brown eyes. Mom had always been able to put on that mask of hope for Lara’s benefit no matter how dark it had seemed. Not that they had ever had to deal with a situation approaching the one she was faced with now.
No, this was new territory.
Their family had never gone hungry. Lara had never had to go to bed on an empty stomach. Her father had always made a good living as an electrical engineer for NASA in Clearlake, while her mother had stayed home to raise Lara.
That was at least until cancer had killed them both.
Now here she was.
Hunger knows no shame, she thought, staring down at the plastic card in her hands. Eat or die. It was as simple as that.
After several attempts swiping the card at several different automated vendors in the food court, Lara gave up and started back to the parking garage where she had parked the Toyota SUV. There she knew they could at least have the remains of the cold cuts and cheese that were still in the cooler in the trunk.
“Where are we going?” Cora wanted to know.
“Back to the car.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s getting late and we need to find a place to stay.” Lara hoped that she could at least find a hotel cheap enough for a single night’s stay with the sparse cash she had left.
There was no waiting for the tram and it was almost empty. After ten, the pulse of the Mall was starting to slow. The consumers (its lifeblood) were returning to their respective shelters with their new found spoils, to sleep in their comfy beds and eat their midnight snacks.
Lara hadn’t even realized that she had been staring at a woman in a business suit, seated in the seat opposite them and nibbling on a low-calorie energy bar, until the woman glared at her. She had been ignoring the pangs in her stomach for several hours now in deference to the children, but now the urge was becoming irresistible and the growling had started.
“Mommy, your tummy’s talking.”
Normally, Lara would have had a snappy reply for her youngest, but tonight, the creativity well was dry. The only words that came to mind—ones she kept to herself—were, “Yes, dear. Mommy’s hungry.”
Even with the tram, it still took them fifteen minutes to reach the parking garage at the north entrance. The elevator took them up to the roof where the Toyota SUV sat parked. The top level of the garage lay nearly empty except for three or four cars. Lara’s SUV sat near the elevator, the backseat folded down and filled to capacity with boxes and clothing on hangers, gathered in a rush. It was humbling to see the remnants of a person’s life loaded into a space as limited as a vehicle.
Owen quietly brooded while Cora filled the vacuum left behind by doing the lion’s share of the whining.
“Why are we leaving? I wanted to ride the Fairy Wheel?”
“We can’t this time, hon.”
Owen quietly stood beside the passenger door, glaring at Lara when he thought she wasn’t looking. When she unlocked the doors, he threw himself into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.
“Hey, you got to ride in the front on the way up here!”
“Cora, get in the car,” Lara snapped, climbing behind the wheel.
She made a sound of frustration deep in her throat and settled into the only available space left next to the boxes stacked on the backseat.
Lara glanced at the gas gauge. Sucking in a surprised breath, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” Cora wanted to know.
“We’re on empty,” Owen told her. It was the first words he’d uttered in half an hour.
Lara glanced up at Owen incredulously.
“You said before we left that you needed gas and for me to remind you and the last time I reminded you, you yelled at me and told me to stop reminding you.”
Lara sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel again. She’d had to drown out a lot of voices to keep that fantasy going that everything was going to be just fine, but like all deception, the truth had caught up with her like a relentless animal.
And now she was feeling its teeth.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly and finally lifted her head, blowing a few stray hairs out of her eyes with her outthrust bottom lip. “I’m sorry that every one of my plans to find you guys a bed tonight fell through. I’m sorry for letting it even get to this point, sitting in our car with all our worldly possessions around us. I’m just sorry for being a bad mother. Maybe one day, you’ll see that sometimes a parent feels like a child, still capable of making mistakes as big as she did when she was five and ten years old. Just at my age, the stakes are much bigger and the damage can be that much greater.”
She sighed heavily and stared at a crucifix--along with several other jingly trinkets-- hanging from her keychain in the ignition. In that moment, she couldn’t for the life of her remember exactly where it had come from or why she had thought it was a good idea to put it on a keychain.
When Lara glanced over at her son, he wore a confused expression that she couldn’t read, a cross between “who-are-you” and “is this some sort of trick?”
“That being said, we’re going to take a vote as a family unit, since honestly,” Lara scoffed, “I’m not feeling very parent-like right now, and I haven’t the least bit of maternal instinct on the best route to go from here.”
Half turning in her seat so that she could see both her children, Lara took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Here’s our options: A) We can drive out of here to look for a grocery store to get some food and a hotel to spend the night, assuming, of course, that we actually have enough gas to get us where we need to go; or B) We can eat bologna sandwiches…”
Both Owen and Cora moaned in unison.
“—and stay in the Mall over night.”
“The Mall!” Cora yelled, arm raised.
Owen frowned. “Won’t they throw us out if we’re not buying anything?”
“I figured maybe we could afford three movie tickets and wait it out until morning.”
Cora squealed loudly and grabbed Owen’s shoulder from the backseat.
Owen looked Lara over, the tension slowly dissolving from his face. “Let me get this straight? You’re going to let us stay up all night and watch movies?”
“Yeah,” Lara said with a tired smirk. “That’s the idea. Take it or leave it.”
“And you’re saying that it’ll be okay to hop from screen to screen?”
“Just this once.”
A smile was slowly dawning on the ten-year-old’s face as his little sister flung herself into the front seat, grabbed her mother around the neck and gave her a loud smack on the cheek.
“Do we really have to eat the bologna?” Owen added.
12
“I’m almost out of health points. Loan me a credit.”
“This is my last credit, man,” Chance told Jesse, stabbing the Merlin the Wizard player button.
“The Elf needs food badly!” the game’s synthesized voice urgently advised.
“Just get over here and give me a hand,” Jesse yelled, his finger a
blur as he blasted monsters with his arrows.
They had been playing Gauntlet for a good part of the night after leaving the CD store. When they’d first come into the Di-lithium Mine arcade it had been crowded with the late night crowd of teenagers. Now there were less than ten people left.
“The Elf is about to die!”
“C’mon, use your magic!”
“It’s not going to help, Jess,” Chance muttered, slapping the magic button with his palm. All the monsters surrounding him disintegrated, but it did little good for the starving Elf.
Questor the Elf disappeared in a flash of light. Jesse pounded the side game with his fist and bellowed in frustration. “Let’s blow this place!” he growled, grabbing his skateboard from where it leaned against the wall and tossing the other at Chance’s feet.
“I just zeroed out my card to stay in the game,” Chance protested. The moment he stepped away from the joystick some other kid that looked to be about ten slipped in and took over. What were kids that young doing out this late, anyway, Chance wondered? Could there possibly be parents in this world more incompetent than his own?
Jesse dropped his board to the floor just outside the arcade and stepped onto it, riding it casually up the nearly empty yellow coded corridor.
“Dude, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Chance warned, glancing back down the corridor. “What if fat ass is still around?”
“Are you kidding me,” Jesse sneered. “He won’t bother us again. He’s too busy hassling some little old lady in the red zone on the other side of the Mall.” He leapt off his board. Managing to keep the same pace, he snatched the board from the floor and tucked it beneath his arm.
“Don’t you think we should head to Dickie’s? He’s probably wondering where we are by now.”
“What happened to spending the night in the Mall?”
“I said that on a goof, dude. Like when you said you wish somebody’d shoot President Connally. You weren’t serious either.”
“Shit yeah, I was serious,” Jesse chuckled. “Hell, I think spending the night here is the least lame idea you’ve ever had. A lot better than staying at Dickie’s.”
“What if my folks call his house?”
“He’s got just enough sense to cover for us. C’mon, I’ve got something I want to show you.” With that pronouncement, Jesse pressed the buds dangling from around his neck into his ears and hit play on his CD player. U-2’s “I Will Follow,” drown out the words of protest Chance uttered.
13
With misgivings and alarm bells going off all through her head, Lara fed fifteen of her last remaining twenty-six dollars into the vending machine just inside the theater entrance and received a debit card back, newly embossed with the Mall of the Nation logo. Directly next to this machine was an automated ticket vender and a flashy digital marquee.
Owen and Cora stood before the massive marquee, reading a scrolling list of the thirty some movies currently showing.
“Goonies,” Cora cried.
“No way, Smeagol, you already saw that one!”
“I want to see it again.”
“Thirty movies to choose from and you want to see the only one you’ve already seen?” Owen scoffed. “I want to see Explorers. I hear they build a spaceship in their backyard.”
“Judging from the show times, it looks like we’re going to have to see this Back to the Future thing.”
“Currently number one at the box office and very popular with all age groups,” the theater’s patron liaison Bot interjected. There were a total of fifteen Bots assigned to the theater, one for every two auditoriums, each one with the fluorescent yellow strips bearing the name and logo of Cine-Verse, the theater chain, all over their bodies. “It stars Michael J. Fox from the popular television show Family Ties and Christopher Lloyd from Taxi.”
“That’s the one with the cool car in it,” Owen remarked.
“I want to see Goonies,” Cora cried, that whiny quality entering her voice.
“Is there any policy against buying different movie tickets for my two children?” Lara asked the liaison.
“No policy per se, although management does try to dissuade the practice, especially after hours,” the service Bot replied. Then in a more official sounding voice, it said, “Management is not responsible for any injuries sustained on the premises due to a lack of parental supervision or disagreements between adult parties.”
As the children continued to argue, Lara leaned closer to the Bot and discreetly asked. “Is there… human security here?”
“There are two Security Agents posted on the premises after hours.”
Well, that assuaged her fears for the time being.
“Mom, didn’t you say we could sneak-in to more than one.”
Ignoring Owen, Lara nodded to the Bot and said, “Thank you for your help.”
The Bot bowed slightly but didn’t seem to pick up her insinuation. Guess they didn’t program the things with etiquette. “Um, excuse us, but…”
“Go away,” Owen barked and with those words, the Bot started immediately away from them. “You have to give them direct a command or they’re clueless.”
“That was rude,” Cora barked.
“What does it care? It’s a machine.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like the next showing of Back to the Future lets out in plenty of time to see a couple of others,” Lara said, swiping her card and retrieving the three tickets it dispensed. “That is, if you guys can stay awake.”
“I can,” Cora chirped. “I might even watch Goonies twice.”
One by one, the three of them fed their tickets into the automated turnstiles and pushed their way through the plexi-steel booths into the main lobby of the theater.
One of the movies must have just ended as a group of ten or fifteen couples meandered through the lobby to the exits, talking excitedly amongst themselves. The lobby of the Cine-verse at the Mall of the Nation might have doubled as a ballroom, even the crystal chandelier that hung directly above its center contributed to this illusion. Multi-colored carpet covered the fifty yards leading to the enormous concession stand that split into two sections: one for automated service and the other for full “interactive” service (as it had been termed in the customer service industry). The lighting had been slightly diminished on that side to give a gentle prompting that if you wanted live service, sir, you were out-of-luck.
An elderly couple laughed as they fumbled through the procedures of purchasing their snacks at the concession stand. The gentleman glanced over at Lara and the kids as they entered and flashed them a smile.
“Would you be in need of assistance, sir?” one of the lobby robots asked the gentleman.
He waved his hand at the Bot. “No-no-no. Mind your own business, Sparky!” he growled.
Lara snickered and felt instant affinity for the couple. She knew that there was the higher degree of distrust of the mechanized men among the generations born before the technological boom of the seventies. Being an engineer, her father had been at home around Bots; her mother on the other hand had reacted to them in much the same way the elderly man just had.
“Look, Mommy, popcorn!” Cora said in a loud whisper that, nonetheless, rivaled her normal speaking voice. “Can we get some? Pleeease?”
“Hush, Cora,” Lara hissed. “We have just enough for the movie. That was the deal.” Though she had eleven dollars left, Lara could not bare to part with it just yet. After all, it was her life savings now.
The elderly gentleman gently brushed his wife aside and tried to take control of the situation. She moved dutifully out of the way and noticed Lara and the kids for the first time. “Why, look here, George,” the woman exclaimed. “A smart young lady and gentleman. Maybe one of them might see fit to help us with this infernal machine.”
Owen stepped forward tentatively and said in a shy voice: “I can show you. It’s easy.”
The couple glanced at each other with identical expressions of amusement. “That�
�s what our grandchildren are always saying. ‘It’s easy. It’s easy,’ the older gent said in a gently mocking tone, stepping back and glancing at Lara.
“Sure, why not,” Lara stated. “He’s been waiting for the opportunity to flex his grey muscle all evening.”
“We’ll take one large bucket of popcorn, my good man.” The gentleman held his debit card out to Owen and smiled over at Lara. “I’m George and this is my wife Tess.”
“Your techno-savior here is Owen and this is Coraline.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cora said brightly. “We’re going to see the Goonies.”
“Back to the Future,” Owen growled under his breath.
“We figured on seeing this western Silverado,” George responded, quietly admiring the confidence with which Owen punched through the button sequence. “Pretty fancy shooting there, kiddo.”
“Butter?” Owen asked.
“Well, of course,” George quipped. “What’s movie popcorn without butter.”
Tess and George watched as a large empty tub dropped down into position. A thin spray of butter coated the popcorn as it tumbled from a separate tube down into the tub. When it stopped, Tess lifted the tub and offered it up to George. He took a handful and sampled it. “So, it’s not cold and stale? How do you suppose they know to pop it fresh like that?”
Lara shrugged. “Maybe it has something to do with purchasing history on your credit card, y’know, that you usually get a large bucket of popcorn when you see a movie or…” She glanced over her shoulder melodramatically. “Either that or we might have a Big Brother situation here.”
“You really think so?” Tess looked up as well and gave an involuntary shudder. “There certainly are enough cameras now that you mention it.”
“Hold this for me please.” George held the tub out to Owen, took the card back from him and swiped it through the reader again. “Now let’s see if I learned anything from you and get us some drinks.” He pushed a series of buttons and a large tub of popcorn dropped into position. “Whoops!”
The Mall Page 6
