Hideaway

by Nicole Lundrigan

  “Kids like swings.” My voice sounded like hands were around my neck.

  I counted fast. There were seven snapshots fixed there. The instant kind that slid right out of the camera when you pressed the button. The tape was yellowed and cracked. Not that I really noticed the tape. Instead I stared at the pictures. A lady with dark curly hair, bright red lips. In one she was wearing a pink bra and panties. In another her back was curved and everything on the top was out. And in another she was completely naked on her side. My eyes kept flicking toward the one closest to the man. The lady’s head was tilted, she was smiling, and her legs were bent and spread open and her parts were right there.

  I swallowed all the water that rushed into my mouth. It seemed like the lady was grinning at me.

  “She’s really something, ain’t she?”

  “Urh.”

  “Sure she could’ve been one of those model types. I bought her a big set of tits, cost me a bundle, but one of ’em popped. No way to get all that shit out. Ruined her dreams, it did. I felt downright awful about it.”

  My stomach was curdled and excited and a little bit queasy looking at the photographs. Of the lady he married. Who was at this moment growing a baby, and that baby already owned its own swing set. I put my hands over my lap and stared at my fingernails. They were long and there was dirt and dried blood under them.

  Carl was breathing heavily. Grunting and muttering. We seemed to be driving forever. I didn’t know what The Stop was, or how far away we were going. On the radio a man sang about missing his girl. I thought of Girl, hoped she wasn’t lonely or hadn’t gotten free from her leash. Finally, the cab of the truck bounced side to side as we drove over broken pavement and pulled into a gas station. Carl was tugging at the handle before we even stopped.

  “Have a good one,” the man said, but Carl had already hobbled down the steps.

  “Thanks, mister,” I said quietly.

  “Sure, friend. Anytime.”

  I slammed the door closed and followed Carl. He went inside the building. Hanging in the window was a poster showing a plate of burgers and a boy with a checkered napkin knotted around his neck. My stomach growled. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

  I found Carl seated on a stool at the counter. A woman in a polka-dot dress and white apron was writing something on a notepad. She stuck the pencil into her hair and smiled wide at Carl. As I got closer I heard her say, “Haven’t seen your hairy mug in three weeks, darling. Where you been hiding yourself?”

  “Urh,” Carl said. He shuffled his feet a bit. His cheeks were greasy, but I thought I saw a flush of pink. “Here and there. Here and there. High security turnouts, so I can’t discuss it. We have to keep a cover.”

  “Don’t worry a pinch,” she said, a finger to her lips. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  Her name tag said “Marion.” She winced when she saw me. “Oh honey. You poor bird. I know just what you want. A milkshake’ll fix near anything.”

  Then I felt something tickling my neck. Hairs from Carl’s beard. He was really close to me. “Faulty. The man in the truck was faulty,” Carl whispered. “We picked the wrong transportation, Magic Boy. She wants me to tell you real ones are different. Real girls have hairs and rolls and wrinkles. Urh. They’re way better.”

  I nodded, but the heat rushed up my chest and neck and the pulse in my tooth got worse.

  Marion brought two milkshakes and a plate of fries.

  “Mind your lip,” she said.

  I took tiny sips and bites and chewed way at the back of my mouth. It tasted so delicious I forgot how much my chin hurt. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Carl eat. It was not what I’d expected. I thought he’d push the fries into his face as fast as he could, but instead he was very particular. Almost thoughtful in the way he took a reasonable mouthful, chewed slowly, and swallowed with a small drink. He didn’t slurp or belch. He used a paper serviette to clean his fingers, clean a dot of ketchup off his beard. Standing up, he dropped the serviette over his plate and walked away.

  I took a few more bites, and when I swung around on my circular stool, I couldn’t find Carl.

  My mouth went dry. A ball of fries lodged in my throat. I searched every table, but he was nowhere. Just like that, Carl was gone.

  He’d ditched me. He was probably out on the road trying to climb into a new truck. He could be going anywhere. Was he leaving Girl? Would he hurry back there, grab her, and then take off before I could find my way? Was I so bad he couldn’t stand to be around me? Had he just used me to steal food? I couldn’t pay. Marion would call the police. Squad cars screeching, sirens blaring. They would arrest me. I was filthy and I didn’t even have shoes on. They were going to push me into the back of a car and take me right back to Gloria.

  I tried to think, to breathe. Going back home. Would that actually be so bad? She probably realized I was gone by now. Maybe she even missed me. Gloria was angry last night, but so was I. Choking on it. I’d bet she was devastated that I’d run away. Wishing she hadn’t punished me like that. I could imagine it all, Gloria pacing around wondering where I was. Maisy was probably crying.

  I looked at my food. Lines of ketchup crisscrossing my white plate. Drops of melted milkshake on the countertop. My tongue bumped my tooth, and I gasped from the jolt of it. Why was I trying to trick myself? Gloria wasn’t upset about me. She wasn’t worried. She didn’t care if I lived or died.

  Everything inside my heart was one big ugly snarly mess.

  Marion brushed past me, then stopped, said, “You good, honey? You want me to find your uncle?”

  I shook my head. I actually had a real uncle. Gloria’s brother, Rick. He used to visit Gran’s house, and he constantly complained that she shouldn’t have me there. That Gloria was “once again shirking her responsibilities.” Gran always hugged me tight and said something nice in my ear. “Never you mind him. He’s just grumpy about his sister.” After Gloria and Telly took me away from Gran’s, I never saw him again. I never saw Gran again either. Except that one time through the window when she came to Pinchkiss Circle. She was standing on the road just in front of our driveway, and Gloria was screaming so Telly went out to talk to her. Gran kept patting her chest, her heart, but Telly wouldn’t let her come in. Then she turned around and walked away.

  Tears started slipping out of my eyes. I didn’t want them doing that; they just started falling. Splashing onto the counter. My face hurt and my stomach felt sick. There was no going forward and no going back. I was stuck.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Marion said. “Go on. Have some more shake.”

  I brought the straw to my lips but couldn’t swallow. The thin arm on the clock above her orange hair kept clicking. What was going to happen to me now?

  Marion pushed another serviette toward me, tapped the side of her face with her finger. “Here. You got a spot of mayo.”

  I wiped, but I knew that spot wasn’t going to disappear. It was part of my map. Maisy always called it that. What an idiotic idea. It wasn’t a map. I wasn’t going anywhere. My blotches were probably the reason no one wanted to be around me. Gloria acted as though it was my fault, but Telly took me to the doctor, and he said it was just a condition. Nothing to do with me. But then Telly left. Gloria kicked me out. And now Carl just walked away. Like I was worth nothing. Zero. Zilch.

  “Well, don’t you look handsome.” Marion was staring over my shoulder.

  From somewhere behind me I heard a gruff cough, then a shy “Urh.”

  A wave of happiness flooded me.

  When I turned, Carl was right there. Wide smile. All the shiny streaks of smoke were gone from his face, and the bottom of his beard was trimmed. His fuzzy hair was damp and patted to the side. I could smell soap. Even the buttons on his coat were fixed.

  He was still mumbling to himself, but cleaned up, Carl almost looked like a regular man. He could definitely be some boy’s uncle. Even some boy’s father.

  “You acquired your nutrition?” he asked as he put
money on the counter.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “Good, good.” He ruffled my hair. “That’s my boy.”

  We went outside. Carl signaled a truck driver headed in the opposite direction. We climbed up into the cab. No weird photos this time. The man told a joke about spilled cutlery and a fork in the road. It wasn’t very funny, but I laughed out loud.

  “That’s my boy.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  ROWAN

  When we got back to the camp Girl rushed toward us, yanking on her rope. She sprang up, pawed the air like a pony. I untied her and threw her mangy squirrel in the air. She brought it back to me again and again.

  “See, Stan? She trusts Magic Boy,” Carl said. “She doesn’t trust anyone.”

  “Except you,” I said.

  “Urh,” he said, and he grinned, rubbed his nose.

  The dampness underneath the bridge lifted, and the day was warm and breezy. I could hear bees buzzing and birds chirping. I sat by the creek. Thin green reeds grew up through the water. Mosquitoes hovered among them, and when tiny fish darted up to snap, bubbles remained on the surface. I watched a handful of tadpoles skitter this way and that. Darrell came to mind, and I wondered if he was finished tinkering with his motorcycle. Maybe he’d take me for a ride. Telly used to forbid it, said anything with a motor and two wheels was a deathtrap, but he wasn’t around to stop me. Then I remembered my decision. I was gone from Pinchkiss Circle. And I was never going back.

  I put my feet in the water. The tadpoles edged closer, but when I wiggled my toes they scattered. I wondered where their mother was. She probably abandoned them after they hatched from their eggs. Maybe even before. Some mothers were like that.

  As I rested by the creek, Carl inspected every corner under the bridge. Tapping stones and pulling out pale weeds. He bent and organized the mound of garbage so that it was neat and contained. As he moved from one side of the space to the other, he reached up and ran his palm over the Almost.

  “Did you paint that?”

  “Did you paint that?” he repeated. He stared at me as though my question didn’t make sense. Maybe he was insulted. Carl would never destroy property. Do something illegal. I just had that sense.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Dumb question.”

  “Urh.”

  The afternoon passed in a hazy way. I collected twigs and fallen branches for later. I waded in the cool water, washing the dirt off my feet and arms and neck. I discovered a trail of ants and followed them until I located their volcano-shaped nest.

  “Don’t touch that,” Carl said.

  “I won’t.”

  Often, I noticed Carl gaping at me. Not in a menacing way exactly, but in an intense way. As though he were studying me. When I stepped from one place to the next, he followed my feet. When I cleaned the grime from my skin, I could tell he was watching my hands. When I spoke, he stared straight at my mouth. A couple of times I heard him talking to Stan. His voice got way louder. “I am being logical. I don’t believe it.” “Not a single live wire on his person.” “Always twos. That’s the rule. Magnetic force too strong to break.”

  He paced back and forth and lit one of his brown cigarettes. “You know any other languages, Magic Boy? Foreign languages?”

  I stopped blowing on the blade of grass nipped between my thumbs. “No. They try to teach me Spanish in school and stuff, but I’m no good at it.”

  He mumbled, then his eyes narrowed. “Nothing else? Conspiratorial languages?”

  The grass-blade whistle fell onto the surface of the water. It floated away. “I don’t get what you mean.”

  “I don’t get what you mean,” he said.

  I wondered why he repeated my words so often. Maybe he was trying to hear parts of our conversation a second time to understand better. It didn’t bother me. He wasn’t being mean.

  He didn’t ask me anything else about foreign languages. Instead he stepped on his cigarette, then brought the squished butt to the trash pile. Girl bounced over and dropped her stuffed squirrel beside him. Carl plucked it up, and while inspecting it, he must have noticed a hole. He retrieved a small tin from his backpack, and with needle, thread, and squinting eyes, he repaired a tear.

  “I can sew too,” I said.

  “Urh.”

  “I made my sister a body for her doll. But our dog ate it.” I was going to ask him if he remembered Little Fawn, but I stopped. I didn’t want to talk about Maisy.

  In the slanting afternoon sunlight, sleepiness crept up on me. I put my head down on Carl’s folded wool blanket and began to drift. The wool was itchy under my cheek. I saw Carl bringing the mangy squirrel to his mouth, bite away the last of the red thread. Then I was asleep.

  I was there and at the same time I was not there. I could hear Carl rummaging around, talking, chuckling. “Altered the, the, the, urh, current. The tipping point is hidden in the node. Expand the truthful verdict. Only birds know everything, they’re so high up. Can’t see me here, no, can’t see me here.” Then, behind my closed eyes, I saw thousands of birds drifting overhead. Settling onto wires that rose and fell. The creek sparkled underneath them. Carl said, “You, Henry. You’re always grumbling. I can’t understand anything you say.” Blue dragonflies hovered and the birds pelted toward them, fat bullets, strings of yellow electricity zapping from each wing.

  I woke up to Girl yelping. Leaves crunching. Something was tiptoeing through the shrubs. The sunlight had vanished, and shadows filled the space beneath the bridge. I sat up. My heart drummed. A pulsing pain increased in my tooth. My neck ached as I craned to see.

  It had to be Gloria or Telly. Maisy must have told them about Carl and they’d decided to come find me. I was surprised to sense a wave of joy welling up inside. Even though Carl was my friend, I had to admit that I missed my house. I missed my bike. I missed having a pair of clean socks or crawling into my bed for a nap. I missed that nail clippers were in the top left drawer and I could use them whenever I needed. I missed Maisy and hanging out with Darrell and Mrs. Spooner waving to me from her front porch. I even missed Shar, Darrell’s snotty little cousin, snapping her fingers in my face or grabbing half my Popsicle.

  Girl scratched the pebbles with her claws, but she didn’t leave Carl’s side. The noise got closer and she snapped her jaws. I held my breath, waiting to see Gloria or Telly’s worried face emerge through the bushes. But when Girl let out a vicious bark, whatever was behind there bolted away. Branches cracked and leaves tore.

  It was just an animal.

  As the rest of the afternoon passed, I listened closely. I heard small padding footsteps, a rabbit or a skunk, but no one appeared. Once I thought I heard someone calling my name. It sounded a little like Telly, but I knew my head was only making that up. Playing a moronic game with itself by wishing for something that never existed. I’d been gone almost a full day, and no one was coming to look for me.

  MAISY

  Telly went to all the wrong spots in the woods. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The right spot was the bridge. Tadpoles didn’t matter when there was Carl and Girl and a fire and wieners and a magic deck of cards. My middle felt sick, but I couldn’t say nothing because Rowan made me swear. Gloria kept looking at me hard, even when Telly was hugging her. She knew I was keeping a big horrible secret.

  I went outside and sat on the front porch. Chicken came out too and sat next to me. From the front step I could see a lot of the circle. I could see Aunt Erma’s house where Darrell and Shar lived. Mrs. Murtry lived right next door, but her car wasn’t there, so she was gone. At the very top was Mrs. Spooner’s house. She might be home or she might be at the library. I tried not to look at the woods. I counted to ten and then looked fast. That gave Rowan time to come out. I did it a bunch of times, but he wasn’t playing.

  A brown car came into the circle and drove straight down to our driveway. The wheels were moving slow. I jumped up and went inside to the kitchen.
“Someone’s out there,” I said.

  “That was fast,” Telly said.

  There were loud slams, and then I heard the screen door creak. Our happy, happy door was already open, but a person reached in and tapped on it anyway. “Hello? Anybody home?”

  I peeked around the corner and saw two tall people standing there. One was a man with a gold badge stuck to his shirt and a shiny gun on his belt. The other man was wearing a blue tie with yellow bits. Not yellow like our door but moon yellow. Telly rushed past me to let them in. He had to tip his head back to see their faces.

  “Detective Aiken. And this is Officer Cooper.” He shook Telly’s hand. “You’re having some trouble with your boy?”

  “He took off.” Telly rubbed his face. “Seems.”

  The men came into our house. Telly pointed at me and my heart started going, but then he said, “The kitchen’s through there.” They followed him and then chairs scraped on the floor. The tie man sat down but the policeman was walking around. I stayed in the hallway and held onto Chicken’s collar, and when the policeman passed the kitchen doorway he smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.

  “Your son?”

  “Yes, sir. Rowan. Rowan Janes.”

  “When did you last see Rowan?”

  I knew Telly was looking at the gun stuck to the man’s hip. He probably wanted to hold it or clean it. Telly loved guns a ton. Lots of nights he put down newspaper on the table and took them apart and brushed them out or greased them up. I didn’t like to watch, but Rowan did.

  “I— Well, I don’t live here no more. We had some bumpy times.”

  “Bumpy times?” The man took a notepad out of his pocket and opened it up.

  “You know. Nothing major, really. I moved out. Stuff changed. The boy’s upset with me leaving. Probably just trying to make me upset back.”

  “Could be, Mr. Janes. How old is your son?”