Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

by AE Rought

  My shoes squished into the wet mat by the door, and I damned near skated through the building to the bathrooms. The lock on the stall was missing, and I had to lean forward and hold the door closed when I used the commode. I could smell Starbucks’ coffee over the soap at the bathroom sink and my guts rumbled in reply. The tea and bagel had long since vacated my stomach. When I walked out of the bathroom the smell of roasted coffee beans was enough to make me salivate. I ordered a Café Breve and biscotti, which I sipped and nibbled while I browsed the cell phones. Flip this. Take a picture of that. Bluetooth technology. It was enough to make my head spin. Why can’t they just make a simple, no frills, no techno babble phone?

  I found the cheapest phone possible with the least amount of techno babble on the package and bought extra minutes. Then I leaned against a counter and punched numbers until I had it activated and functional. The phone snapped shut, and I stuffed it into my pocket.

  I patted the phone through my jacket. “You’re nothing but a damned necessary evil.”

  Armed with a cell phone, water bottles, a couple sticks of jerky and a bag of dried fruit, I climbed back into my little car. I had a long ride ahead of me in unfamiliar territory and I did not plan to stop for anything other than bathroom breaks and fuel.

  I rescued my teddy bear from the trunk and put him in the passenger seat. He would be my copilot and the soundboard for my inevitable bitching. Poor little guy.

  I flipped the cell phone open and fumbled with the keys to dial Susan’s house. Each ring set my heart to pounding faster. I knew Matt had watched their house last night. I wouldn’t put it past him to watch the house every minute he wasn’t working. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept in his truck around the corner from Susan’s remolded Victorian.

  “Hullo?” It was my youngest nephew’s voice.

  “Hey there, Sammy Whammy!” I tried to sound chipper. “Is your mom around?”

  “Aunt Kally? Mom said you left Uncle Matt…”

  “Yes I did, Samuel, and he is not and never was your uncle, little man. Matt and I weren’t married.” I heard cell phone minutes ticking away in my head. “Can I please talk to your mom? I don’t have a lot of minutes on this phone.”

  “Sure. MOM, IT’S AUNT KALLY!” He yelled loud enough I was certain people heard him on the east side of Lake Michigan. “Okay, Aunt Kally, here comes Mom.”

  “Thanks, Sammy.”

  The hand off between mother and son was muffled, and then Susan’s voice filled my ear. “Hi, Kally. How’s the trip going so far?”

  “I’m doing all right. The tank is full, I have some healthy snacks and water and I am on my way to Ilene’s. Will you do me a favor and write down this cell phone number and then hide it in your purse or something?”

  “Sure, hun.” Her voice sounded confused.

  “Sue, I’m worried about you guys. I’m afraid Matt’s going to break in when you’re not home and find the number or…or worse.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I know you’re worried about us, but I told you we’ll be fine. Now get on the road and call me from your next stop.”

  “It’ll be late. I’m going to see how far I can drive today.”

  “Fine, then. Call me from Ilene’s if you make it there.”

  “Will do. I love you—you and the boys. Take care.” I snapped the phone shut, and entrusted it to the arms of my orange companion. He could hold it and I wouldn’t have to fumble in my pocket it for it if Susan called.

  The engine kicked over and groaned to life when I stepped on the gas pedal, then I eased the car back out of the mouth of the hypodermic entry lane and back into the artery of traffic flow. I pulled out a water bottle, propped it on the console between the seats and then switched on the radio. Bass thumped through the speakers, providing background music for my departure from all I’d known. Foot on the gas and heart beating with hope, I headed for the open range of Wyoming and my friend Ilene Rogers.

  Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

  Chapter Three

  Somewhere around Madison, Wisconsin, my ass went numb. I pulled off at the next available stop and walked around until the feeling returned to my butt cheeks. The weather had warmed since my departure yesterday, and sitting in the little car with an overactive heater was making me sweat. My limp jacket fell to the floorboards of the backseat when I peeled it off. I rolled my shoulders, twisted from left to right, wiggled my hips and then touched my toes a few times to get the blood flowing.

  Ilene would laugh at me for doing stretches in public. With the thought of my old friend, I fished my little silver phone from the teddy bear’s lap and dialed her number.

  She wasn’t shocked by my call, or by me finally leaving Matt. “It’s about time you got smart, Kally.”

  “I’m not sure if I should thank you. I know I’m not—”

  “I know you’re not stupid either,” Ilene cut in. “So don’t go there. It’s just none of us could figure out why you stayed with him after the first fight. I would have packed my crap and been on the next bus home.”

  “I don’t know what to say, other than I loved him.” I couldn’t vocalize a better argument. After the first fight, I had been in shock, in pain and still weak-in-the-knees in love with Matt. I always hoped he’d change, or I would be good enough. That never happened.

  “I know you did, sweetie, I know.” Ilene was the only one who seemed to understand this side of me, and how I couldn’t give up on the love I’d fought so hard to keep alive. “We all love you too. After everything we went through in school, how you stayed with me when I was sick. God, Kally, you’re a sister to me.”

  Tears started. “I know, and I’m so sorry I didn’t call, or write like I should have. I wanted to keep some part of my life separate, and you are the one person I most wanted to keep hidden from him.”

  “It’s okay. I missed you like mad, Kally, but Susan called and kept me abreast of what was going on. It killed me the first time she told me Matt had hurt you. If I didn’t have Steve and my job out here, I would have come back to Michigan and taken you away from him. Any guy who raises a hand to you isn’t worth having. You need someone to love you the right way, to treat you like the goddess you are. And I’m just damned proud you finally realized it.”

  My leaving didn’t have anything to do with a goddess complex. My self-worth fled beneath Matt’s fists and my love for him had died in its absence. Yet I had stayed, hoping he would learn to love me, and I could love him again. “Well, I’m not sure about the goddess thing. At least I realized I should be able to live without fear of being beaten to death by a man claiming to love me.”

  “Whatever the reason, you took the first step back toward becoming yourself again. Now, hurry up and get to Gillette. I’ll put in a good word for you at the store and hopefully get you a job.”

  “Back toward becoming myself.” What a wonderful concept. “All right, Ilene. I’ll call you the next time my ass goes numb.”

  She laughed, and the noise tugged at my heartstrings. I’d missed her laughter, missed having Ilene in my life. “Just call me. I don’t need to know what your butt is doing.”

  I smiled, put the phone back into the bear’s lap and drove to the next exit promising gas. The gas gauge had been sticking since I left Des Plaines, and I wanted to make sure I had enough fuel and didn’t run out somewhere miles from help. In short order, I was back on 90/94 and feeling better with every mile north and west I traveled. Some small part of the shadow overhanging my life lifted. If a compass direction affected the soul, the needle pointing toward Wyoming made my soul sing.

  Clouds slowly scudded across my view through the windshield, reminding me of November weather in Michigan. Thanksgiving was in a couple weeks, and happy memories of dinners at Susan’s came to mind. I could almost smell the turkey roasting and feel the weight of my nephew Samuel dozing in my lap. He had latched onto me from the day Susan had brought him home, and I loved the little booger madly. My heart thumped in a
sweet melancholy way, bringing tears and a smile to light up the Wisconsin landscape.

  Static or country music crackled from the speakers with each spin of the radio dial. I gave up on the radio, rummaged in the glove compartment and found an old Def Leppard cassette. I was surprised the cassette had survived since high school, let alone years of heat and cold exposure, but it played without a problem. Soon, Joe Elliot’s voice rasped out Love Bites.

  How true, how true.

  Joe and the band kept me company through the Badger State and on into Minnesota, though after multiple replays, the music became monotonous. I stopped often for bathroom breaks, fuel and to stretch my legs through Minnesota, and more than once bemoaned my forgotten cassette collection. The farther past the Minnesota/South Dakota state line I drove, the antsier I became. I stopped off in Mitchell, South Dakota for gas, something hot to eat and a break from the rolling scenery. With the Celica fueled up, I drove into a Culvers restaurant for a burger.

  The tray with my meal sat waiting on the counter while I checked my purse and pockets for my wallet. Each search was fruitless. A sick sense of embarrassment and loss quivered in my stomach, while my jaw fell and my gut plummeted into my shoes. I checked all the nooks and crannies where a wallet might hide, all to no avail. The cashier watched me with disinterest, a frown furrowing her brow when I shrugged my shoulders. “Can you give me a minute to check my car? I must’ve dropped my wallet in there.”

  My cheeks flamed red. I could see the high color in my reflection on the driver’s side window. The rubbery feeling within filtered out to my fingers and I dropped my keys to the asphalt. There, stooped over in South Dakota, I saw in my mind exactly where I dropped my wallet—two stops back, at the really busy gas station on the eastern side of this state. I thought I had heard something fall when I climbed in the car, but had dismissed it.

  So damn stupid.

  Hundreds of cars had to have passed through there. Someone had to have found my wallet. Tears splattered beside the key ring when I bent to pick them up. My heart fluttered, and the air was suddenly too thick to breathe. What was I going to do without my wallet? How could I get along without an ID, or the meager stash I’d tucked inside the billfold? What would Matt do if someone called him about my wallet, or sent it to him?

  Impotent tears burned up. I scrubbed them away with the cuff of my sweatshirt. Crying was useless, and I’d done enough of it already. I dropped into the front seat, hoping I was wrong about where I had dropped the wallet. I tore through the glove box, upturned my steadfast orange companion, looked down beside and between the seats and doors and clawed through every bag in the car. The trunk, which had remained closed since Michigan City caught a cold South Dakota breeze when I opened it hopelessly digging for my wallet. I had to face the facts. The wallet was gone. My ID, my money, all of it was gone.

  At least I have Sue’s money. It was still in my jacket pocket, beneath the bloody reminder of a handkerchief. I lifted my rumpled jacket from the back seat and took a twenty-dollar bill from my sister’s money.

  The cashier rolled her eyes when I returned sweaty, blushed and disheveled from my mini meltdown in the parking lot. I’m pretty sure the girl snorted when she accepted the money. She plopped my change on the tray. “Have a nice day,” had never sounded so snide.

  The table I chose faced the west windows and the waiting dark gray clouds. Culvers had become purgatory in between the hell at home and the frightening unknown. I wouldn’t return to Saint Joe. Without my own money and important papers, I was suddenly hesitant to go any farther. I lifted the lukewarm burger to my mouth, and found I no longer had any appetite. The loss of my wallet and the ramifications had soured my stomach.

  I took the iced tea with me and bagged the remainder of the uneaten meal. The door swung open in the swift breeze, and my bangs blew in front of my face like a blonde curtain. My hair settled when the gust died. For a moment, I thought Samuel was walking toward me across the parking lot carrying my orange bear, then I pulled stray bangs from my eyes. The little boy resembled my nephew, but his hair was not wavy or brown. He stopped, held out my teddy bear by one arm, his other hand tucked in the small of his back. “I-I found him on the ground by the car over there. Is he yours?”

  “Yes, he is.” I bent down to the boy’s level and took my teddy bear from his hand. I ruffled his hair a little, and he smiled. It was an honest expression, and it tugged a little grin from me too. “Thank you for saving my teddy bear. He was a birthday gift from a boy very much like you, and I would have missed him terribly.”

  The boy didn’t reply, just waved and then ran to a car parked beside mine. The crammed navy sedan backed out and then drove to the main road. The pale haired boy turned and waved through the back window, a sunny face in the dark car. The license plate had a silhouette of a cowboy on a bucking bronco.

  “A Wyoming license plate…I know a good sign when I see one.”

  Even with the loss of my wallet, and hundreds of miles from home, my spirits lifted. My teddy bear in the hands of the little boy was a great blessing and I took the license plate to be a sign of good things to come. I’d left the darkest time in my life behind me, and my path led to a place of blessings and joy. My teddy bear molded to my chest when I hugged him, and then he reclaimed his post as copilot. The leftover dinner sat on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat, close by if I decided to eat. Then, cell phone in hand, I piled in behind the steering wheel.

  Susan was disheartened by my missing wallet, but I knew she needed to be on the lookout for Matt if someone sent it back to the address on the driver’s license. She advised me to find a place to stay for the night and to contact the proper authorities in the morning. Her advice fell on deaf ears. “I’m serious, Kally. The next time I talk to you, you’d better be in a hotel.”

  “All right, Sue. I’ll talk to you when I stop for the night.”

  I’m sure she bitched at me. I refused to hear it. I disconnected the call and dialed Ilene. She needed to be informed of my situation. She was less surprised at my misfortune, and also less concerned. “I think you’re right, hun, the little boy was a sign. You have great things to look forward to here. Just drive nice and easy, and keep out of trouble until you get here. We’ll take care of your ID and money troubles tomorrow morning from my kitchen table. I love you girl.”

  “Love you too, Ilene.”

  I hung up the call and then silenced the ring tone. I didn’t need Susan using up my remaining minutes nagging me. The echo of the cell phone hitting the floor bounced around the car when I dropped it behind my seat and on top of my discarded jacket. Then, I put the key in the ignition and started up the car. “Wyoming, here I come.”

  The money in my chest pocket dwindled the closer I drove to the Wyoming border, but it did not dampen my mood. A kind of schoolgirl excitement buzzed in my veins despite the worsening weather and darkening sky. I could hardly see a car length in front of the hood. Snowflakes swirled above the hood and melted against my windshield. The dark sky and white flakes were a beautiful contrast. I’ve always loved an overcast, snow filled winter day.

  Past the Wyoming border, I pulled onto the road shoulder to knock the snow and ice from my windshield wipers. I lifted the wiper blades and let them whack back against the glass. The right remained in working order, the left blade broke into brittle shards. “Oh, fuck me running! What’s next?”

  Heavy wet snow pelted the windshield after I crawled back in the car and crept down I-90. I couldn’t see a damned thing, even by driving with my headlights off so the light wouldn’t be reflected by the snowflakes. It was no good. With the car creeping along, I pulled the maps back out, looking for a city big enough to have some place to stay. Estimating gas used, I guessed I was somewhere around Sundance, but I never figured it out. At an intersection, the Celica skidded, and instead of engaging my brain and thinking enough to turn the wheel in the direction I wanted to go, I jerked it and slammed on the brakes.

  Like some
tutu wearing ice queen, the car spun on the spot. I screamed and swore until the air was blue and the car righted itself. Out of instinct I looked for the compass Matt had mounted to his truck’s dashboard. Of course, this was the Celica and I didn’t have any of those sensible manly things. I climbed out of the car and wiped snow from the windshield and debated my crossroads’ dilemma.

  Each direction looked the same—whitewashed of any identifying markers. What the hell? I’m bound to find someone, one way or another.

  The wheels spun before getting a grip and moving forward on the road. It was a flat ribbon of white in a snow squall, and I squinted at every road sign I passed. They were coated with snow and not about to reveal their secrets. Shrugging and damned near snow-blind, I crawled along, resolved to travel to the first gas station I came across.

  Then, with sick clarity, I felt another shift in the car’s direction. The wheels skidded in the snow and my Celica spun an almost lazy circle and slid off the pavement. A jarring thump rocked the car when it pitched rear first into the culvert alongside the road. My head rocked back and the seatbelt strained against my shoulder. The vehicle teetered on its bumper, snowflakes settled on the glass above me and my belongings tumbled into the back of the car.

  My only thought was to scramble in one piece from the car. I pressed the seat belt button, but the latch did not release. The fabric cut into my palm when I pulled. I yanked and tugged until my hands bled and tears fell more swifter than the foul language pouring from my lips. Straining, I kicked the glove compartment and popped open the door. Papers fell past my face. The dull edge of my multi-tool hit me square in the jaw. Though pain burned along the bone, the tool rested on my upturned chin.