by J. M. Kelly
Chapter 33
David shows up in a cab on Monday afternoon with two checks, one for Amber, one for me. It’s the only time he’s been to our house, but I’ve decided that’s one more thing I can’t be embarrassed about. I live here, at least for another week, and that’s how it is. I hand over the keys to my other baby, and he hugs me.
“I promise I’ll take good care of it.”
“I know.” I swallow the lump in my throat and squeeze my eyes shut tight so the tears don’t leak out. “You can go now. Before I change my mind.”
“Okay. See you at Christmas, or maybe in Kansas next summer.”
“Go, okay?”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
After he drives away, I hand Amber her check. She shakes her head in wonder. “I can’t believe we got so much, Crystal. We only paid three thousand for it!”
“Yeah, but I put about three thousand hours of work into it, too. Remember?” Probably a slight exaggeration, but maybe not. One of the reasons we’d gotten such a killer deal in the first place was because the car had been in a hail-storm in North Dakota and had about a million tiny dents. Also, the motor was shot.
“Yeah, true. Plus all your wages before Natalie.”
Amber had tried to talk me out of selling the Mustang, but I had all my arguments lined up and ready to go. First of all, she owned half of it, so it wasn’t fair for me to take it with me. Second, I wasn’t sure I could drive all the way to Kansas with Natalie by myself; the Greyhound just made more sense. And third, Amber would need a car once I was gone. Jimmy was already looking for something reliable for her.
I also didn’t think I’d really have a use for a car in Kansas, but if I do, I can buy some junker for cheap and get it running. At school, they have a project car for us to work on as a class, so not having the Mustang won’t be that bad. I can get my car fix there.
“Han told me he’d teach me to drive,” Amber says as we go inside.
“Yeah, he told me that too, so I signed you up for Sears driving school.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. He’s a scary driver. Don’t do anything he does.”
“Okay. I wish you had time to teach me.”
“I’ll give you a few lessons.” And then with a sinking feeling I remember I can’t—we sold our car.
We go in our bedroom to check on Nat, who’s having a nap. She’s still asleep, and I nod to Amber to come out into the kitchen. “I want to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds ominous.”
“No, it’s not. It’s about living here. You need some of that Mustang money for the car Jimmy finds you, but I think you should get an apartment. I’d feel better if you were in a safer neighborhood.”
Amber grins at me. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan already.”
“You do?”
“Jade and Teddy are moving in together, and the house they leased has one of those mother-in-law suites upstairs. I’m gonna rent it from them.”
I’m about to say, “Are you out of your mind? You can’t live with Jade. She’s a terrible influence.” But the look on Amber’s face is so hopeful. I know she wants my approval, and she’s been so good to me, so I keep my real feelings to myself. “Cool. Where is it?”
She breaks into a huge smile. “Over on Twenty-First and Weidler.”
At least that’s a good neighborhood. I still can’t help but say, “Are you sure, Amber? I mean, I think you should get your own apartment, but Jade’s . . . she’s . . . well . . .”
Amber puts her arm around my shoulder. “I know you and Jade don’t get along, but she’s changed a lot since she met Teddy. She doesn’t drink anymore. And she even quit pot.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
This actually makes me feel a lot better. And the fact that Amber would have her own place, but there’d be family right downstairs, is probably exactly what she wants if we can’t live together.
“Sounds good,” I say. And it doesn’t even cost me much to admit it. I’m not a big believer in fate—not like Mom anyway—but maybe this is how it was all supposed to work out.
On the eighteenth of August, Amber drives me, Natalie, and Han to the Greyhound station in the little Honda Fit that Jimmy found for her. She’s only got her learner’s permit, but she can drive with me or Han in the car. She’s already a better driver than Natalie’s daddy. I refrain from telling him that, though. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Amber says in the parking lot. I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
“Stop,” I say. “Or I won’t be able to go.”
“Sorry.”
I wait until she’s out of the car, and then I quickly turn the knob on her stereo so the music will come on full blast when she gets back in. I won’t be here when it happens, but it gives me a little thrill anyway.
Up until this minute, I’ve been super excited. I’ve gone over my courses online about a million times, and Han found a daycare that’s not only clean and cute, but accredited and not too expensive. He’s already paid for the first month, too. But now, here at the bus station, all my enthusiasm vanishes. How can me and Amber possibly live so far apart that we won’t see each other every day? The first time I left for Kansas, I was too mad to care, but now . . . now, I’m not sure how I’ll survive without my sister. And what about Nat? I know she’s going to miss Amber, and she’ll probably think I’m really mean for taking her away.
Han holds Natalie while me and Amber lug my stuff into the station, and I see he’s whispering in her ear. And I’m taking Natalie away from her dad, too. God. I am so selfish.
“You know what, Am? This is a stupid idea. I should stay here.”
“Forget it. You’re going.”
“You just said—”
“You’re going.” She walks up to the counter and tells the lady my name.
“Yeah, okay.” I really do want to go. But no one told me it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Amber squeezes my hand while the lady consults her computer. Me and Nat are only taking the essentials on the bus: one suitcase, which we check; a diaper bag; a car seat; and my backpack full of snacks. Amber helped me ship everything else yesterday. Once I’m all checked in, we join Han and Natalie on hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. Natalie’s starting to fade in his arms.
“Don’t let her go to sleep!” I practically screech, startling her awake. Me and Amber have kept her up all day so she’ll fall asleep as soon as we get on the bus. She’s cranky and whiny and I’m sorry this is the way Han has to say goodbye, but I don’t want to be the passenger everyone hates because my kid is screaming.
He bounces her up and down, and she looks at him like he’s a traitor, like “How can you do this to me when I’m so tired?” She screams and Han pulls her close, wiping at her tears with his thumb. A little lump gets stuck in my throat.
“I’m glad I’m not getting on the bus with you,” Amber says, nodding at the people around us who are already glaring.
“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you, Nattie?” Han says. “Yes, you will. You’ll sleep for Mommy, won’t you?”
I like the way it sounds when Han calls me Mommy. Weird how fast I’ve gotten used to it. I doubt Natalie will be able to sleep for almost two whole days, though, which is how long it’ll take us to get to McPherson. But I’m also not going to give her baby Benadryl like Mom suggested. I checked the Internet, and while the medicine is supposedly safe, a lot of pediatricians say not to do it. It’s still a drug. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle that me and Amber made it to adulthood.
I did take Rosa’s advice, though. When she heard we were going by bus, she said, “Been there, done that. Spend the extra money and buy two seats. Just because you can hold her in your lap for free doesn’t mean you want to.”
The four of us sit there in silence, me fingering our boarding passes, Amber fiddling with her hair. And then Han comes to l
ife. “Oh, man, I almost forgot.” He hands Natalie to Amber and runs out to the car. A minute later, he’s back with a plastic bag. “One for Mommy,” he says, giving me a brand-new cell phone. “And one for Auntie Amber.”
“Wow.” I examine it. It’s no iPhone, but it’s pretty nice.
“I have one for me, too,” he says. “They’re all charged up, and I’ve programmed our numbers into them.”
“I thought you said you’d kill yourself before you got one of these,” Amber teases him.
“That was before Nat. I got us the family plan. We can talk as much as we want.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, this is great, Han. Thanks.”
He’s looking pretty proud of himself. And he should be, too. He still hasn’t told his dad about Natalie because he’s getting his plumber training from him and needs the job, but he came clean with his mom. She promised not to tell, and we took Natalie to the restaurant where she waitresses and they got to meet each other. Now Natalie has two grandmas.
Before I’m really ready, they announce our bus. Panic rushes over me. “Oh my God,” I say. “What am I doing? I can’t leave you guys.”
Amber steers me toward the line at door number six. “We’ve already covered that. You’ll be fine,” she says. “Go on.”
“But—” Tears are spilling over onto my cheeks. Amber and Nat are crying too. Even Han looks teary.
“Aunt Ruby says I can have two weeks off next summer,” Amber reminds me for the thousandth time. “I’ll drive out and see you both.”
“Me too,” Han says. “I mean, I’ll go with her.”
“You guys promise?”
The line’s moving forward now. “We promise,” Amber says.
“But don’t let him drive,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes and hugs me hard. Then she takes Natalie from Han so he can hug me while she says goodbye to her niece. When Han lets me go, I give Amber another hug, squeezing Nat between us until she squawks. Then I’m being herded through the door, out into the hot August night with Nat on one hip, the backpack and diaper bag slung over my shoulders, and the car seat in my other hand.
“Send lots of pictures!” Amber yells after us.
“Call every day!”
“We will.”
Me and Nat make our way onto the bus and up the stairs, squeezing down the aisle, dodging elbows and swinging luggage as people try to put their stuff in the overhead bins. A few people give us wary looks, but Natalie coos and gurgles at them and their grimaces turn to smiles. At least for now.
I get the car seat buckled down, then settle Natalie into her seat. We can’t see Amber or Han, but I tell her, “Say bye-bye to Auntie Amber. Bye-bye to Daddy.”
She opens and closes her chubby fingers, her version of waving. “Bye bye bye bye bye!” She keeps repeating it as I strap her in, and then I sit down next to her and fall back against my seat, totally exhausted. Maybe we’ll both sleep.
I look over at her, my pale-skinned, blue-eyed, strawberry-blond daughter, and I feel a surge of love come from somewhere so deep inside me that it makes me shudder. “Well,” I say to her as the bus pulls out, “it looks like it’s you and me, kid.”
She waves at the window. “Bye-bye.”
“Hey, Nat,” I say, and she looks up at me. “You ready for our very first road trip together?”
“Yes!” she yells.
I laugh. I doubt she actually understood the question, but her enthusiasm makes me happy anyway. This might be our first road trip, but it definitely won’t be our last. And someday we’ll be doing it in an extremely cool car I restored myself. I take Natalie’s tiny hand in mine and squeeze gently. Our future stretches out in front of us, and for the first time in my entire life, I’m looking forward to it.
Thank-Yous
Thank you to Karen Grove, my lovely editor, for her insight, for being my sounding board, and for her all-around fabulousness. And to Michael Bourret for making the writer-editor match. Merci! Your faith knows no bounds.
Thanks to Papa for teaching me about cars, instilling in me the love for the cool ones, and most important, for checking this book for errors (if there are any, we need to talk . . . Just kidding, they’re all mine).
Big hugs and lots of chocolate to my early readers: Eileen Cook, Alexa Barry, and Iain Lawrence. Thanks also to the best cheerleaders a writer could have: Zac Brewer, Joelle Charbonneau, LJA, S. Barney, Bill Cameron, and Suzanne Selfors. And to Karilyn McEnroe for the Spanish help.
Love to K.B. and the Berthelot family for sharing something important and personal, with special thanks to Nicole.
And even though he’ll probably never see this, thanks to Jay Leno, for first bringing this program at McPherson College to my attention and making me want to write about it. Also to Joshua Hubin in the automotive restoration program for answering my questions about the admissions process, which apparently changes year to year!
Husbands always seem to get thanked last, but we all know why: They make writing books possible, so there’s a lot to say. Thanks, darling, for the input, the cups of tea, and all the egg sandwiches when I was too busy to cook for real. You’re my shining star.
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About the Author
Photo Credit: Victory Anthony
J. M. KELLY grew up in Portland, Oregon, and now lives in British Columbia, Canada. Her dad, whom she calls a car god, instilled in her a love for antique cars, and she once owned a beautiful 1959 Studebaker Lark. She’s worked as an actress, a minor-league baseball souvenir hawker, the Easter Bunny, and various other not-so-odd jobs. She mostly writes novels, but also dabbles in sketch comedy, nonfiction articles, and teaching writing to both kids and adults.
Learn more at www.jmkellywrites.com
