by Laura Briggs
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To see a little bit of me," Arlene answered. "It's a place I like to think of as one of my other homes these days.” She flicked the turn signal right as the car slowed almost to the speed limit.
Her words perked Drew’s interest; perhaps this fragment of Arlene’s existence would offer insights beyond the trailer’s clutter and the time-worn interior of the convertible. She wanted to ask for specifics, then hesitated — almost as if a part of her suspected that Arlene was making this up as they went along.
“Hungry yet?” asked Arlene.
“Starving,” said Drew. Breakfast had been forgotten in the haze of makeup and outfit decisions, both her own and Arlene’s, her appetite then influenced by the smell of burnt eggs in the kitchen. But now, on the open road, food had an allure beyond the desire for family connections.
Arlene’s choice of restaurant wasn’t a greasy spoon along the highway, but a drive-thru consisting of a sliding window in a metal building, a road sign so antiquated it might have stood before Route 66 drew travelers into meandering vacations.
Beneath its rusty stare glaring into the sky, Drew lay on the hood of the car, Arlene sitting beside her. A greasy burger, several bites missing, lay wrapped in wax paper alongside a cardboard container of onion rings.
Arlene took a long sip from her soft drink cup, then sighed. “They make the best cherry coke floats,” she said. “Better than the big fast food joints, I think.”
“It’s not bad,” Drew murmured, her eyes closed. In the cool temperatures, the heat of the sun and the metal hood provided a sense of warmth almost summer-like. Compared to Boston’s cold streets, that is.
Arlene swished the cup, the ice crashing against the sides with a slushy sound. “Tell me about your boyfriends,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Drew, who opened her eyes at this question.
“My — boyfriends?” Drew gasped. “Plural — no, no, there’s no boyfriend. Not one or two or more.”
“Why on earth not?” Arlene asked. “You’re young, you’ve got a good figure. No sense in wasting it.” She ate an onion ring from the box, licking her fingers afterwards. “If it’s because of what happened to me...”
“It isn’t,” Drew answered, hastily. “I just wasn’t interested in relationships. There was so much to do with my studies and then there was — there was my mother’s death.” She sat up, her fingers nudging the burger on the wrapper next to her. “Relationships are so...so definite. I don’t know what I’m looking for, anyway.”
She broke off a piece of her burger and poked it between her lips. “My father,” she said. “Was he the only one you ever loved?”
Arlene laughed. “Not likely,” she answered. “I had a lot of chances since then, but I can’t say I wanted to be tied down. You remember that flaw I told you about? Well, that’s what’s kept me from anything permanent. Knowing I can’t take care of myself, much less a man.”
Drew sucked in her cheeks with a feeling of pain, as if the small coldness from long ago was waking in her chest again. “Then he and I ... were sort of the same to you.”
“No,” said Arlene. “You weren’t the same at all. I didn’t want to send either of you away — not really. It was what I had to do.” She cleared her throat, taking a sip from the soft drink again.
“But your father,” she said. “Now there was a man in his younger days. Hard to resist him. Keep that in mind, little girl, and don’t let yourself get too caught up and be head over heels for the wrong one.”
“Then you knew he was the wrong one and you still — still —” Drew couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence.
“I should have been careful, that’s what you’re thinking—” continued Arlene.
“No,” Drew answered, harshly. “That is — I think maybe you’re the wrong person to give me advice on this subject. Thanks.”
Arlene squinted at her, a critical smile on her lips. “Didn’t you ever think the ones who did it wrong are the ones who give the best advice?” she answered. “Seems to me you ain’t ever heard of experience over book learning.”
Despite the flush on her cheeks, Drew nodded. “All right,” she said. “That’s true. I guess I was wrong about that. But I still don’t think we should talk about my love life.” This last part she added in a warning tone.
Arlene laughed loudly. “Fair enough,” she said. “We ain’t done talking about mine yet anyways.” With a wicked glance at Drew, who couldn’t resist laughing in response.
“Is yours that detailed?” she asked.
“Good Lord, yes,” Arlene answered. “Why, there was another man every time I turned around. Not serious, of course; but when you’ve a whole string of ‘em in the past, it don’t matter for the sake of storytelling.”
“What about today?” Drew flopped on her side, breaking a bigger bite off the burger now growing damp and sticky beneath the sun’s glare.
“Today? Oh, there’s more than enough today.” Arlene’s eyelid dipped low with a wink.
A half-hour later, as the wind ruffled Drew’s curls, she let a smile creep across her face. The movement of the car seemed like a boat upon waves, the jolt of potholes a moment of madness for laughter, not panic.
She glanced at Arlene, who was telling a story about a road trip to Houston. She shouted above the strains of Brooks and Dunn from the speakers, the ends of her foamy green scarf whipping in the breeze. There was no room to reply, even if Drew had planned to do so; but there was something in Arlene’s narrative that defied the need for polite answers.
Eyes drifting closed lazily, she let her arm rest on the door instead of gripping the handle. They might be a thousand miles from nowhere for all she knew, but for a moment, in this freedom, she didn’t care.
Chapter Ten
“A casino?” Drew asked, incredulously. “When you said it was like home —” Her words trailed off as her wobbling heels lost traction in the lobby’s plush carpet, threatening her balance.
“Oh, honey, what on earth did you think?” Arlene answered. “What, I was going to drag you to some childhood shack where I grew up? Like there’s any reason to go stare at a bunch of old boards with a grown girl in tow.” As she spoke, she smiled at the casino employee behind the window, who changed her bills for chips and recommended the steakhouse on the second floor.
“What a shame you can’t gamble with legal tender,” she complained, as she led the way to the crowded gaming floor. Roulette wheels and dice tables, black jack and row after row of slot machines like frozen robots with arms upraised in unison.
“I thought you meant the reservation as in a — a Native American heritage trip,” Drew continued. “Tribal ancestors or a museum or something. I had no idea this was what you had in mind.” As she spoke, she tugged her blouse’s collar up higher, her skirt’s hemline lower as if to cover herself more than some of the skimpier patrons clustered at a nearby gaming table.
“Here.” Arlene shoved a stack of chips into Drew’s hand. “Now, we’re just gonna have a good time and see what happens.” She squeezed in between two customers at the dice table.
“Let an old lady in for a hand, would you, boys?” She gave a wink to the oldest one, a man in a cowboy hat whose face lit up in response.
“This spot’s all yours, Ma’am,” he answered. “Young girl like yourself can’t have too much room.” Arlene was already placing a stack of chips at stake.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder, motioning for Drew who was lingering outside the observation crowd. Drew hesitated, then moved closer with a sigh.
“Will we be here long?” she asked, trying to keep her voice low. “It’s getting late, it’s already almost six o’ clock. We won’t be back at the trailer until three in the morning.”
“Long? Why, we’ll probably take in dinner and get a room by ten — no sense in going home after we drove eight hours.” The dice rattled across the table, one of the patrons groaning at the results.
&
nbsp; “Does this place have some special significance?” pleaded Drew. “Some emotional tie or something?”
“It has Judy and Gladys — you’ll meet them in just a bit,” answered Arlene, who was preoccupied with stacking her chips. “Best friends I’ve got in the world at this point. It’s gonna be a hoot when they meet you. They won’t believe this whole thing isn’t made up.”
Reaching over, she propelled Drew forward. “Give it a whirl,” she said.
“I think I’d be better off with slot machines,” Drew answered, trying to edge away with an excuse.
“Come on, now,” coaxed Arlene. “Easiest thing in the world.” Her fingers opened, tumbling two red dice into the palm of Drew’s hand.
“Go on,” she said. Drew stared at the dice as if holding two live snails instead of pieces of colored plastic. She could feel the crowd’s perplexed stares, the dealer’s tolerant smile as she hesitated.
With a quick flick of the wrist, she flung them forward. They bounced off the side of the green felt table, rolled to a stop with two white dots exposed.
“Snake eyes!” trilled a stranger at her elbow. A flush rose in Drew’s cheeks in response to groans and whistles.
“Not a problem,” said Arlene. She smacked down several more chips. “Let’s give it another shot.”
“Oh, I don’t —” The dice were pressed into Drew’s palm before she could finish protesting. When the dice skittered across the green surface, she closed her eyes, cringing at the thought of what would come next. The next thing she felt was Arlene’s fingers squeezing her arm, a squeal piercing her eardrum.
“Glory be! Now that’s what I call beginner’s luck, girl!” In response to Arlene’s words, Drew opened her eyes. A bigger stack of chips had replaced the small one, as if the red dice worked a conjuring trick of some sort.
“Go again,” said Arlene, with a pant of excitement. Heart pounding, Drew’s fingers were reaching to obey when a voice interrupted them.
“Arlene! Arlene, over here!” At the sound of the woman’s shout, Arlene seized Drew’s arm and pulled her from the crowd and in the direction of two women jumping up and down and waving. A tall narrow woman in a red hat, a plumper figure in pink with a blond bob beneath her fuzzy tam.
“Girlies, you’re late to the scene,” Arlene scolded. A flurry of hugs and cheek pinches followed, an overwhelming cloud of perfume passing over Drew as she stood by awkwardly. The woman in the pink tam glanced at her with a crinkly-eyed smile.
“You bring a friend along, Arlene?” she asked. Arlene’s face registered a grin; before she could speak, Drew’s voice emerged.
“Actually, I’m her daughter,” she answered.
For a moment, both of the women were frozen. They gazed at Drew with wide eyes; then the taller one burst into laughter.
“Arlene, you old hen! How could you not tell us you had a daughter?” She shook Arlene by the shoulder with one hand, the other occupied with pinching Drew’s cheek until a red mark replaced the visible rouge pattern.
“Never came up until today,” Arlene answered. “She’s been livin’ in Boston, but she’s come to visit for awhile. I thought I’d break her in on you two before I let her meet any of my close friends.” This remark produced a scolding noise from the one in the pink fuzzy tam, introduced as Judy a moment later.
Gladys was the tall one. She was also a schoolteacher, as she informed Drew.
“So mind your ‘p’s and ‘q’s,” she said. “I hope you went to a good school out in New England. I’ve heard stories about some of those classes. You know, Texas has one of the best education records in the country.”
“Really?” Drew forced a smile to her lips. “That’s nice.” Her arms were linked by Arlene and Judy, who were pulling her along between them as they moved towards the slot machines.
“Is it taken?” Arlene said. “Oohh, I hope not. There it is — there’s my baby!” As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around a silver slot machine, its scratched surface telling stories of hundreds of similar encounters.
“Your baby?” Drew couldn’t contain the incredulous note in her voice. “A slot machine?”
“This is my lucky machine,” said Arlene. “Most winnings I ever had — one hundred dollars and seventy-five cents. Right out of this gorgeous hunk o’ junk.” She patted its sides, then reached into her purse and produced a paper cup. Gladys and Judy had already taken over similar machines, armed with a paper doughnut sack and a Chinese silk bag, respectively.
“Pull that lever, darlin’,” instructed Arlene as she shot a handful of coins into the machine. Rolling her eyes, Drew pulled the lever. The miniature pictures spun wildly, appearing again one by one as they halted. A lemon, an orange, then a dollar sign. Arlene uttered a little tsk of disappointment.
“Try it again,” she said, motioning for Drew to pull the lever again as she slipped coins into the slot.
There was no magical ‘beginner’s luck’ this time; the windows came up with mismatched images again. Drew stirred impatiently. Squeezed in beside Arlene, she was beginning to feel cramped and awkward.
“Look, one opened up over there,” Arlene whispered loudly. “Go grab it, Drew, before someone else does!” She gave Drew a shove in the direction of the newly-available slot machine, its previous player moving on with a hatful of change.
“But I —” Drew began. Arlene shoved a handful of quarters into her fingers.
“Get started,” she chortled. “Come on, girl — we gotta have something for tips at the restaurant!” She yanked the lever on her “baby”, watching the images whirl expectantly.
The sound of machines chiming all around, the frenzied clang of metal, filled Drew’s ears amidst the bubble of the casino’s customers. Arlene’s voice rose above the fray, chiming out whenever she had a lucky hit. In between, she gossiped with Judy beside her, who worked her own lever with fervor.
Gladys sank down on the stool of the neighboring machine, giving Drew a sociable smile.
“So how come we haven’t heard about you until now?” In her smile were glints of curiosity, turning her eyes into a ferret-like gaze that discomfited Drew.
“Because I was adopted,” she answered, slowly, “by somebody else.” Realization dawned on Gladys’s face as Drew watched.
“Oh.” Gladys’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise to match this statement.
Drew smiled. “I just came here to meet her,” she continued, with a little shrug. “Basically, you know my mom better than me. Funny, huh?”
She was aware that Judy was staring at her with interest now, then leaning in to converse with Arlene in low tones. No doubt she was asking the same question, only more intently.
Was Arlene comfortable with this? Apparently, she had never told anyone she gave a daughter up for adoption — not that a secret like that was unusual. But popping it on your closest friends at a casino was far from normal.
“She never ... well, I guess you don’t always know a person, do you?” There was still a note of surprise in Gladys’s voice, although she was recovering swiftly. “Well, it was real nice of you to come and see her.”
“It’s the least I can do,” said Drew. This conversation had taken a surreal turn, to be discussing the circumstances of her birth so casually. Her quest for family connection was reduced to a handful of pat phrases that made it sound like a trip to the grocery store for milk. A little outing to pick up some information on one’s genetic history and birth moment, for instance.
With these thoughts in her mind, she pulled the lever, turning away from the curious gaze of Gladys — and, she suspected, Judy also. Who was watching her over her shoulder in between working the slot machine’s lever like an automated function.
Drew’s own machine was a blur of motion, the miniature pictures spinning around, then alighting on three lemons. Without warning, a series of coins shot forth, spilling across the carpet.
“Bingo!” shouted Arlene. “Pick those up before they get away, honey!” Drew reached
down and picked them up, chasing a stray one that escaped from her hand and rolled under her stool.
“What do I do with them?” She held out two handfuls of change, wondering if she should dump them into her purse, hand them to someone — do they turn them over to someone to make it legitimate?
“Dump ‘em in here,” said Arlene, holding out her paper cup, a few quarters covering the bottom. She shoved it into Drew’s hand. “Here, hold onto it. Baby-sit my lucky spot for a bit.” She scooted off the stool and disappeared in the crowd.
Drew sank down on the stool, balancing the cup on her knees. Tentatively, she pulled the lever; the slots spun, a series of mismatched results appearing afterwards. She glanced towards Gladys, who was catching a handful of change in her paper sack. Judy had disappeared somewhere as well, her slot machine now occupied by a man in a t-shirt and sandals.
The hedonism of the atmosphere dwindled; an hour later, the frenzy seemed less intoxicating and more intolerable. Drew had abandoned the machine when there was no sign of Arlene returning. She maneuvered her way through the crowd, her shoes feeling like lead weights on her feet.
“Arlene!” she called, catching a glimpse of red hair ahead in the crowd. She stepped forward, the heel of her shoe catching in the carpet and bending her ankle to the side. She stumbled, then reached down and yanked off the offending shoe, then the second one.
Now she was wandering through the crowd, her shoes dangling by their straps in one hand, the cup of quarters in the other. She felt disheveled and tired, her irritation growing as she avoided getting her toes crushed by the heel of a cowboy boot stepping backwards.
Stuffing the cup in her purse, she made her way to the hotel desk outside the gaming room.
“I’d like a room.” She slapped her credit card down on the counter, relieved to be in a part of civilization that recognized its value.
“How many guests?” The desk clerk lifted it as he spoke.
One. The thought popped into her head before a twinge of hesitation followed.
