23 Miles

by Renee Mackenzie

  The van flashed its lights like it wanted her to stop. She felt a little sick. Again it flashed its lights— off and on, off and on, low beams to high beams. Then the inside of her car lit up with what she assumed was a spotlight. A voice screaming in her head told her if she stopped, she’d be dead.

  She stomped on the accelerator and didn’t ease up, not even around the tree-lined curves. The van stayed with her at first, but by the third time she took a curve on two wheels, she had pulled way ahead of it. She didn’t let up.

  She meant to get off the parkway at Route 17, but was going too fast by the time she approached. She would have to go to Ballard Street.

  The stop sign at the intersection with Ballard came out of nowhere. She slowed just enough to turn right without losing control. There were no headlights behind her. She turned right onto Cook Road and kept her speed at the limit, not wanting to draw attention to herself and not wanting to hit a deer. Good thing she hadn’t seen any deer on the parkway. The way she was driving there would have been no way to avoid one.

  Once Talia had backtracked and was finally on Route 17 she felt a little safer. She glanced into the rearview mirror every few moments as she wove her way to the intersection of Ft. Eustis Boulevard and Jefferson Avenue. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep food down, so she didn’t stop at the 7-Eleven. Several minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment and looked around. Not seeing a dark van, she got out, locked the car behind her, and ran to her apartment door.

  Once inside, she locked the door and threw the dead bolt, and then went into the kitchen and pulled out an Amstel Light. She took several gulps. She didn’t like beer, but bought it when she saw Shay Eliot drinking that brand at the bar one night after her shift as a law enforcement officer.

  Talia went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She cringed at the amount of mascara smeared under her eyes, her purple eye shadow was mostly gone, her “big hair” was way too massive, and she was pale. She looked like a vampire. And she was still shaking from the chase on the parkway.

  “What the hell was that about?” she asked her reflection.

  She went into the living room and grabbed the phone off the side table, stretching the cord out as far as it would go as she sat on the sofa. Dialing her best friend’s phone number in Georgia, she wished Debbie hadn’t left Virginia. If Debbie had stayed instead of moving, they would have been cruising the parkway together. But her best friend had left the area, was oblivious to where Talia spent her time now, and pretty much had started growing further and further from her. Talia knew she was lying by omission to Debbie by not coming out to her, but she could live with that.

  “You will not believe what happened to me,” Talia said in lieu of hello.

  “Talia? It’s late. I’ve got class tomorrow.”

  “Oh, sorry, but I have to tell you what happened. I was on the parkway. I’d just scored some weed from Fish—”

  “You’re still smoking that trash from Fish?”

  “Hey, things have been dry lately. I take what I can get, you know?” She took a sip of her beer. “So, listen, I’m driving home and all of a sudden this dark van pulls up behind me and is right on my ass. And he chases me. He’s flashing his lights and shining some spotlight on me and won’t back off.”

  “Just some jerk-off messing with you,” Debbie mumbled.

  Talia felt a surge of energy move through her. Just some jerk-off? Really? She couldn’t believe she was inches from death and her best friend was blowing her off.

  She felt it coming, but was powerless against it. “Debbie, he hit me from behind,” she lied.

  “What?”

  There, now I have your attention. “Well, it was only a tap, and it didn’t do any damage, but I came really close to losing control of the car and we were going like seventy on that one curving section of the parkway.”

  “Shit, you need to stay away from there for a while. What if it was someone who knew you’d scored some weed and was going to roll you for it?”

  “Roll me for it? Where in the world did you pick up that jargon?”

  Debbie laughed. “Too much cable TV, I suppose. Still, you need to be careful.”

  Talia sat back, snuggling into the sofa, feeling better now that her best friend was showing a more appropriate level of concern.

  †

  Shay rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. Her tabby cat, Poke, was at the foot of the bed, meowing. “Come up here, brat,” she told him, patting her stomach. He climbed onto her and she petted his gray, brown, and black head. “Thanks for still loving me even if I probably won’t be able to afford cat treats for too much longer.”

  He jumped off her and she laughed. “Yeah, I see how you are.”

  Mornings were the hardest time of the day. It was when she was most likely to examine the place she was at in her life. Sighing, she looked at the clock again. She would have to get up soon if she was going to finish all the lawns on her schedule for the day. She was so glad Brenda had given her a few clients while she was starting out. Brenda was always so busy that she wouldn’t even feel the effect. But it sure would help Shay.

  Shay’s head pounded as she made her way to the bathroom. What was she thinking drinking shots of tequila? Oh, that’s right, she hadn’t been thinking.

  She threw on an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and then made her way into the kitchen. She poured herself a bowl of Corn Flakes. Poke eyed her. Shay was pretty sure he was convinced that she went without milk in her cereal to torture him. “Sorry, buddy,” she said as she poured herself a glass of orange juice and stood at the kitchen counter to eat her dry cereal.

  She freshened Poke’s water and kibble, then brushed her teeth and started out the door. She stopped short at the edge of the driveway and wondered how long it would take before she grew used to not seeing her police cruiser there.

  She checked the time and knew she’d better get going if she was going to get all the lawns done in time to beat the navy base traffic. She checked that the lawnmower was secured in the back of her Chevy C10 pickup truck, jiggled the gas can to be sure she had enough diesel fuel to mow several lawns with her old, commercial mower, and then was on her way.

  †

  Talia came home from her job at the dental office one town over, in Grafton, and threw the bag of Taco Bell on the table. She grabbed a Jolt Cola from the fridge and settled down to eat her tostada and two tacos. Thank God for Taco Bell. It was her usual Thursday night cuisine. And Tuesday, Wednesday, and sometimes Sunday. “Okay,” she admitted to herself. “I’m addicted.”

  She squirted some hot sauce onto her taco and thought about the crappy day she’d had at work. She had a hell of a time finding the right balance of caffeine to wake up but not be jittery. She couldn’t get in a groove and felt like Dr. Bennett was waiting on her for one thing or another all day. A couple of times she’d glanced toward Lacey, the other dental assistant, and caught her making faces behind the dentist’s back. Lacey was always good for comic relief. Talia thought Lacey was nice to her because her presence there took the pressure off her. She was pretty sure Lacey was the recipient of all the impatience before Talia joined the office.

  Sauce dripped down Talia’s chin as she devoured her second taco. She swiped carelessly at it with a napkin.

  Earlier, at the office, she’d been wiping down the handles of the light over the dental chair and looked up to see Dr. Bennett standing in the doorway with a patient. Dr. Bennett gripped the patient’s chart to his chest. Talia wasn’t sure if she’d zoned out and spent way too long cleaning, or if he was just giving her the look he used often to remind her not to think too much of herself. And every time she looked toward the front of the office she noticed Sally, the receptionist, looking at her accusingly.

  To make matters worse, Talia couldn’t shake the discomfort lingering after her encounter on the parkway the night before. Every time she thought about it her heart pounded and she felt a little s
ick. She decided to think of it as a sign that she was meant to stay home more nights. She should be working on her poetry chapbook after work, not being chased down by some freak up to God knows what. But she could still go to the bar on the other side of the Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel in Norfolk and try to talk to Shay Eliot, of course.

  Standing in her apartment’s small hallway, she looked toward the poem room, as she called it. It was meant to be Brian’s room when he got out of prison, but with a minimum of four years left on her brother’s sentence, Talia could still call it whatever she wanted to for quite some time. And she’d be lying—which she’d been working hard at lately to quit—if she didn’t admit that she would rather Brian not move in with her when he got out. Drama followed Brian, and Talia wasn’t a big fan of drama. Then there was the whole gay thing. She instinctively knew she would always need to hide that part of her life from her brother.

  So, the poem room… Talia had painted a poem on a canvas two days earlier. It was one inspired by a dream she had about Shay Eliot. She’d titled it, “Soul Dancing.”

  Talia had this process where she painted a 24 x 36-inch canvas with acrylic paints. One color, kind of light, covered the entire surface, then she painted on the words, large and bold. It was something new she’d started. So far, other than the dancing poem, she also had “Taste” (also inspired by Shay Eliot), “No,” and “Under the Ball Cap.” It was sort of her thing. Every writer needed a thing, she’d decided.

  After finishing her dinner, she went into the poem room. “Soul Dancing” was written in bold black letters scratched onto a steel-blue background that reminded her of the color of Shay Eliot’s eyes. Talia was going through a phase where she wasn’t allowing her poems to rhyme. She’d heard that was what the cool writers were doing.

  The canvas leaned on the easel where she’d left it to dry. She stood in front of it and stared until the light blue background turned into Shay Eliot’s eyes. Then she began reciting it, mostly from memory.

  “On that day when

  strong women

  are invited to dance

  barefoot in my dust,

  I know

  you will be there,

  beautiful feet glistening

  with life’s sheen.

  My barefoot Muse,

  set free my obsession,

  take me with you and

  leave a trail of me.

  Help me to know what you view,

  to see what you know,

  strong woman

  barefoot in my dust.”

  Talia loved writing but knew she wasn’t going to make a living at it. She liked working as a dental assistant just fine, but didn’t want to do it forever. Other than writing poems, she didn’t know what else she was interested in. She figured maybe she’d work that out by the time she burned out on the dental assistant gig. She had just turned twenty-three, made a decent wage, loved the car Brian sold to her for ten bucks before being sent away, and liked her apartment in Newport News fine, even if she would have preferred to stay in York County.

  The only thing she found lacking was her sex life. After fooling around a bit when she first came out, she hadn’t been with anyone in a while. She knew that was her own fault for holding out for the woman of her dreams. Speaking of whom, she wondered if Shay Eliot was at the bar. She could go see. No, she reminded herself. It was poem night—even if it meant staring at the walls or ceiling while waiting for her muse.

  The phone rang. Thursday was also the day Brian got his phone time. She picked up the receiver. “Yes, I’ll accept the charges,” she responded to the operator’s inquiry.

  Chapter Two

  It was Friday night and Talia was ready to party. She bypassed a closer parking spot behind the bar in Norfolk to park further away, next to Shay Eliot’s tan pickup truck. She wished she had a shot of something to take the edge off, but hadn’t replaced the schnapps under the front seat after she’d finished it a few nights earlier. Tonight, after a few drinks, she was going to finally get the courage up to approach Shay and say hello. That was the plan.

  She could smell the aroma of pot coming from a partially opened car window and wished she was bold enough to approach and ask for a hit. But she wasn’t. She wished she had brought her own instead of leaving it stashed at home.

  Talia showed Cindy, the woman at the door, her ID and stepped into the smoky bar. Several women were shooting pool in the area right inside the door. Talia glanced around, looking for Shay.

  It didn’t take long for Talia to find her, sitting at the bar, talking to a bartender. Talia checked out the cute bartender, Lana. She’d figured out that Lana was dating Kate Hunter, a girl Talia knew from high school. Just then, Kate walked up to the bar from the direction of the restrooms and sat down next to Shay.

  Not for the first time, Talia saw the way Shay looked at Kate, causing Talia to cringe. She wondered if there was ever anything there.

  Talia tucked herself near the jukebox where she could watch Shay from a distance. She ordered a greyhound from the waitress, then changed her mind and went with a vodka tonic. She needed to stay away from the grapefruit juice because of its acidity, and because she didn’t like the taste in her mouth by the end of the night when she drank it. She assumed it didn’t smell that great to people she wanted to impress either. And by people she meant Shay.

  The jukebox grew quiet and a DJ started playing. The music started off with some new Janet Jackson—“Control” followed by “Nasty.” Talia liked the sound and was a little disappointed when the DJ switched it up and played “I Fall to Pieces.” But the DJ got Talia’s attention when she dedicated it to Shay.

  Talia thought it a peculiar choice, old-fashioned and not very danceable, but noticed the smile on Shay’s face as it played. She made a mental note to get a cassette of Patsy Cline as soon as she could.

  “The women of Dynasty called. They want their shoulder pads back,” a voice behind Talia said.

  Talia gave the shoulders of her black and gray paisley jacket a slight adjustment, and then made sure the collar was flipped up with the appropriate level of coolness. “You’re just jealous, Beth.”

  Beth smiled and stared at her a moment longer than what was comfortable. “Damn, girl, you look beat.”

  She wasn’t about to tell Beth that hanging out at the bar almost every night was wearing her out. Talia shrugged, then regretted drawing Beth’s attention back to the butt of her joke. “What’s up?”

  “I am.” Beth laughed.

  “Oh?”

  “Buy me a drink and I’ll give you a robin egg.”

  Talia considered the diet pills she liked to use for a rush and that I’m-so-euphoric feeling. “How about two robin eggs?” Talia asked.

  “I forget it takes a lot to get you off.”

  Talia was caught a little off guard by the comment, but tried to play it off. “Who’s been talking?” she teased.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. But now that you ask, Lori’s been lamenting how you were a much better lay than Chris and she should have stayed with you.”

  “I told her she’d be missing me,” Talia said, bragging with more confidence than she really felt. Lori was a woman she’d met shortly after finding her way to the lesbian bar in Norfolk. Talia had slept with her when she first came out to the bar. She liked Lori, liked her a lot, but so did their mutual friend, Chris.

  “Do you and your shoulder pads want to dance?” Beth asked.

  “Only if you quit with the fashion judgment.”

  Talia was a decent dancer and held her own through a Madonna song and one by Prince. She was pretty sure after a few more drinks she’d think she was a dancing goddess. She watched Beth, who was a good dancer, fluid and graceful.

  Talia glanced into the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the back of the dance floor to check on her hair. She always blew it out for extra height when going out to the bar. Satisfied with it, she turned back to Beth and concentrated on letting the music wash over her.

>   Cyndi Lauper came on as Talia looked over Beth’s shoulder and saw Shay was still at the bar talking to Kate. “Let’s get your drink,” she said as she led Beth off the dance floor.

  Talia stepped to the bar and ordered. When she handed Beth her drink, Beth slipped two pills into Talia’s front pocket, her fingers lingering there a few moments longer than necessary. Talia glanced at Shay to make sure she hadn’t seen.

  Once out of Shay’s line of sight, Talia washed down one of the pills with her cocktail. She wanted to save the other for right before she left to drive home. The forty-minute drive was always a little easier with some speed in her.

  Beth took off to hang out with some softball pals of hers. Talia continued to watch Shay at the bar, thinking that at any second she’d get up the nerve to talk to her.

  Talia wished Kate would go away. Kate was never rude, and didn’t pretend not to know Talia, but she wasn’t actually friendly either. And Talia sure as hell wouldn’t go up to talk to Shay with Kate sitting right there.

  Talia let her mind wander back to the first time she’d seen Shay Eliot. It was a Friday night and Shay was the cop responding to the break-in of a car in the parking lot at the bar. When she walked inside, all heads turned to look at her, including Talia’s. Shay nodded with familiarity at several of the patrons, and then went up to the bar to talk to Dee, who was working that night. It was obvious they knew each other.

  After taking a few statements, Officer Eliot left the bar. She was only in there a few minutes, but the image of her in that uniform was forever ingrained in Talia’s mind. She was incredibly hot, and Talia wanted badly to get up the courage to talk to her.

  That night, Talia had wandered out to the parking lot to catch another glimpse. As she approached her squad car, Shay Eliot called back to the door where Dee stood. “Softball tomorrow?”