by Laura Preble
“Where to first?”
“Andi’s.”
She peels out, spurting gravel from the SUV’s back tires. “And we make the great escape!”
“Thanks for helping.” My heart is still beating too fast. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Jana steers the car toward town, and keeps her eyes on the road as she says, “You can’t say anything about this to Andi, you know.”
“I know.” I hadn’t really planned what I wanted to say. I guess I just wanted to see her again before…
Jana pulls up in front of Andi’s house, leaves the car running, and says, “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Remember, don’t say anything.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just an errand. I won’t be long.”
I nod at her as I open the door. “Okay. See you in a bit.” As if we’re just doing regular-people stuff. Not like we’re planning to overthrow a theocracy.
Chapter 11
It takes five minutes for someone to answer Andi’s door when I ring the bell. I hear scuffling inside, the sound of tense voices, and then a drape on the bay window moves just a bit before the door opens and Andi’s smiling on the other side.
“Hey, Chris.” She steps forward, pulls the white colonial door closed behind her, blocking the entrance. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to come by and see what you’re doing.” I stamp my feet a bit and blow on my hands, the universal signal for asking to be invited in. Either she doesn’t pick up on it, or she ignores it. “So, what’re you doing?”
“Not much, not much.” She glances back, very slightly, over her shoulder. “I’m kind of busy right now, though, so can I call you later?”
“Actually, I’m going out of town tomorrow, so I was hoping to talk to you before then.” I lean in to her. “I’m going to Indian Lake. With Jim McFarland.”
That shocks the smile off her face. “What?”
I nod, grin sheepishly. And then I realize: I’m not sure I trust Andi. Even if I could…I don’t know if I can tell her the truth. We’ve been friends since we were kids, but now…I am not totally convinced that she supports me, or this, and I don’t exactly know why. Maybe it’s how weird she’s acting.
She glances behind her again, and grabs my arm, marching me toward the street. “You're wearing slippers,” I point out. She ignores me.
We walk briskly to the corner, turn right, and after about a block, we’re at a small park. “What are you doing?” she asks, anger in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” I sit on a wooden picnic table painted dark green, etched with decades-old declarations of love.
She joins me on the table and pulls her feet up under her in a yoga position. “You know what I mean. Why are you going out of town with him?”
I can’t look at her. “Just a get-acquainted trip, really.” I pick at the old paint with my fingernail. “Only a few days.”
“Chris. Chris!” She shoves me, hard, forcing me to look her in the eye. “You know what I mean. What about…you know?”
“You can’t even say it now.” I shake my head. “Did somebody talk to you? Why are you acting so weird?”
“No.” But her voice doesn’t sound convincing. Does it? I don’t even know anymore. “Just…after we talked, and you saw her, I thought that you were planning something different.”
“Do you care?”
Her red curls cover her face as she stares down at the ground. “Of course.”
There’s an awkward silence between us. “Jana’s coming back to pick me up soon. I just wanted to see you before…the weekend.” I reach into my coat pocket and produce a gum-foil sculpture of a dove. “A parting gift.”
She takes the little silver bird in her hand, then looks up at me, tears in her eyes. “Why? Why did you have to see me before you left?”
I could tell her. But when you do things like what I’m going to do, you really can’t afford to trust anyone. “Just because we haven’t talked for a while. I just wanted to see how you were.” I decide to add, “You seemed weird on the phone the other day. And then when I called today…well…”
“You mean when you asked me to help you set up a meeting with her?” she spits. “Do you know what would happen if anyone found out I did that?”
“I thought you were going to help me. What happened to that?”
She pounds the table with her fist. “I was going to help you cope with it. I was going to help you…pretend it wasn’t true. Or something. Not this. Not help you really be one.”
“Be what, Andi? A Perpendicular? Are you afraid to even say the word?” I grab her chin, force her to look at me. “I’m the same person I’ve always been. Why does this make anything different?”
“It does. It just does. Because everyone we know expects you to be something else. Do you think they’ll just be okay with it, Chris? They’ll throw you in a pit and forget about you, like Carmen said. I don’t want that to happen.”
“Then why did you help me?”
“You asked me to.” She leans over and hugs me, tight. “Don’t ask me again. I can’t be responsible for what will happen to you. I already feel guilty about setting up that meeting. You’re going to get caught. It’s just a matter of time.”
“I told you, I’m going away with McFarland this weekend.”
“You think I don’t know what that means?” she says bitterly. “I don’t want to know any more details. Don’t tell me. Just—” her voice becomes a whisper in my ear as she leans close, arms around my shoulders. “Just be careful.” Her tears roll down onto my jacket, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and she looks me in the eye one more time before releasing me and running through dead leaves, never looking back. The silver foil dove sits forlornly on the table.
I wait. Hollowness expands and seems to eat up anything I have inside. Breath, breath, smell of rotted pine needles, smell of old paint, of cold. A path of disturbed debris where my best friend ran away from me, crying. Hollowness.
Trudging back toward Andi’s house, I try not to think about what she said, but it’s impossible. I can see why she doesn’t want to know the details. I wonder if anyone suspects, or if they’ve been talking to her. Maybe that’s why she sounded so weird on the phone, why she was at some party I didn’t know anything about. Maybe she’s working for them. Would she do that? Why?
Jana is parked, car engine running, in front of Andi’s. There’s no sign of my friend. I climb into the SUV, close the door.
“Where’s Andi? Did you get to talk to her?”
I just nod.
“What happened?” She steps on the gas and we glide away from Andi’s house, a place I played in and slept in and cried in. I won’t see it again.
“She’s afraid.” That’s the bottom line, really. She’s afraid. Of what will happen to me, to her, to me and Carmen, to all of us. Suddenly I see the whole tapestry of fear that has been woven over us, this idea that different is automatically bad and threatening. Why? Why has it come to this?
“Did you tell her? Does she know?” Jana sounds afraid too. Fear drives everything, I guess.
“I think she suspects, but she didn’t want me to tell her anything. I told her I was going away with McFarland this weekend.”
“Why did you tell her that?” Jana hisses. “She might tell someone.”
“It’s not a secret, Jana. In fact, I’m sure David has been telling anybody who will listen that I’m going on a courting trip with a future bishop. I’d imagine everybody in town knows about it.”
“Hmm.” It’s only about five minutes to the Goldmans, and to Carmen. My palms start to sweat, and my heart beats faster. “You can’t talk to Carmen for too long. Remember, we’re here for me to see her, not you. Right?”
“Right.” We stare straight ahead, and I count the black cars we pass—seven in all. Jana eases the Escalade snug to the curb outside Lainie Goldman’s house, an exposed-stone and wood two-story that looks like it had another life as a ski lodge.
Jana jumps out of the car and I follow. The porch is so closed in and dark it feels like we’ve entered a cave.
Lainie opens the door wearing what can only be described as a dead polyester leopard that obviously took a walk on the wrong day and got on the wrong side of Lainie’s credit card. “Jana! Chris! What a nice surprise. Come on in.” She opens the redwood door (it has twisted wrought-iron bars over the small window…kind of medieval torture chamber motif) and we go into the plush and ridiculously overdone foyer. Of course Lainie Goldman would have a foyer.
The movie-set décor takes my mind off our mission until Carmen walks into the room. Then I feel dizzy and sick and wonderful all at once. “Hi Jana,” she says casually, giving my sister a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Chris.” She barely looks at me. That’s a good thing. “What’s up?”
Lainie realizes she and her leopard could be happier elsewhere, away from the teenagers. “I’ll just leave you alone, kids,” she says. “I’ve got something in the oven. Carmen, feel free to entertain your guests in the living room.” She clicks away on oversized marabou-trimmed slippers.
Jana speaks a bit too loudly. “Carmen, we just wanted to see if you’d like to go get some coffee or something. We were out doing some errands, figured we’d check in.” She smiles winningly, just in case anyone is watching.
Carmen smiles too, but turns her sparkling eyes on me. “Love to. Let me just get my coat and tell Lainie where we’re going. Be right back.” She disappears into the labyrinth of the lodge, leaving Jana and me to wait. A clock ticks somewhere, and seems so loud that I can’t believe no one has shot it off the wall.
“Okay, let’s go.” Carmen sweeps past us, opens the dungeon door, and we’re free. I want to run for the Escalade, but exercise self-control and just walk quickly.
“I’ll ride in back.” I fold my legs into the back seat while Carmen lifts herself into the front next to Jana. Her silky hair swings in front of me, and it takes everything I have not to reach out and touch it.
As we pull away from the curb, I notice that a curtain in an upstairs window moves back into place. Seems to be a trend today. “Somebody’s watching you?” I ask.
Carmen glances up as we drive away. “Always. Not sure why. Maybe because I’ve disappeared a couple of times in the middle of the night.” She grins at me.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jana says. “Where are we going?”
“Let’s just drive around,” Carmen suggests. “It’ll be harder for anyone to overhear us. You think the car’s okay, right?”
“Better be,” Jana says. “I think we’d be in a hole somewhere by now if it wasn’t clean.”
“Can I come back and sit with you?” Carmen asks over her shoulder. I look at Jana, who nods as if she doesn’t approve but expected it anyway. Carmen glides over the seat gracefully, and lands in my lap.
“I’m taking Greeley Chapel Road, so nobody will see us.” Jana flips on the radio and punches a button so it’s playing some music instead of the dull talk shows it usually spits out. As we roll through town, I turn to Carmen, grinning ear to ear; she eases me down onto the leather seat and kisses me while my sister sings along with Aretha Franklin.
I could say time stood still, or one of those clichés that people say when they’re with someone they love, but it’s really true: we must have driven for at least an hour and it didn’t seem like we went anywhere to me. Jana finally says, “We have to stop to refuel,” and we disentangle ourselves, sit up straight, try to look respectable.
“No funny stuff,” Jana warns as she jumps out to pump the gas.
“So.” Carmen traces a pattern on the back of my hand. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
We breathe, together. Not on purpose. “What time do you leave?”
“Three. We’ll get there by six. You have your information?”
She nods. “Someone contacted me yesterday. In a bathroom.” She shakes her head. “They pushed a packet under the stall. It gave directions and a time. That was it.”
“Well, I guess that’s pretty safe. If someone got hold of it, they wouldn’t really know what it was for, right?”
“Yeah.” She leans in, not too close in case people can see us. “It just lists a time and GPS coordinates. I’m supposed to meet—Magnus?— there at midnight. Jana’s going to drive me and drop me off a half mile away, then I’ll walk in to the meeting site. And then, I guess…we’ll go.” She smiles, but it isn’t cheerful. “What if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t.” I don’t feel as sure as I sound.
“Are you scared?” she asks in a small voice.
“Terrified. You?”
“Beyond terrified.” She gazes into my eyes and I glimpse the full-on panic that hides behind her smile. “We can just forget about it. It’s not too late.”
I tilt her chin toward me. “It is too late. I’m in love with you.” I kiss her lightly. “They’ll get us out. It’ll be over before it starts.”
She smiles at me, grateful, I think, for my false confidence. “Let’s talk about after. What we’re going to do. What it will be like.”
“Hmm. After. Well, once all the secret stuff is over, we’ll be in Canada. I don’t know where, do you?”
“No.” she pats my knee. “I don’t care where.”
“We’ll have a little apartment. Second floor. Lots of trees around, maybe an old brick building.”
“Flowers? Violets. Those are my favorite.”
“Sure. Not in winter, though. It’s going to be colder up there, remember.”
She says, “We’ll be spending Christmas together.” I don’t think either of us had realized it before. Holidays. Family time. A lump in my throat keeps me from talking for a moment, and when I look at her, her eyes glisten with tears. The clunk of the gas nozzle shakes us out of it. But the feeling lingers, a cold dread resignation that we’ll be giving up many things in exchange for what we get.
“We’ll get a tree,” she says, almost whispering. “We can make the decorations.”
“You won’t be able to see your family again, will you?” I hadn’t thought about it. She’s here in Ohio, her family in California. If she leaves now, she’ll never be able to go back, not until things change. If they change.
“No.” Head bowed, she traces a pattern of creases on the leather seat. “I’ll write to them. Maybe we can video chat. It will almost be like seeing them.”
“Were you…are you close to them?” She’s a stranger, a person I barely know and I’m risking everything I’ve ever had for her. Put that thought aside. That thought is not going to help.
“I don’t know,” she answers. “Both my moms are sort of…militant…and since I’ve known about being…you know…for awhile, I haven’t felt like I could really be myself around them.” She grins brightly. “I guess I sort of mentally ran away a while back.”
Jana gets in, starts the car, and pulls away. “Well, where to, lovebirds?”
Carmen reaches across the front seat and pats Jana’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping us.”
“I’m helping myself, make no mistake. I am going to be up there too before you know it. I am not sticking it out in this swamp of mental retardation any longer than I have to.” She guides the SUV onto the road and heads back toward Carmen’s house. “But for the time being, we’re supposedly helping my non-existent friend Danny move his stuff, so I guess I’d better find someplace to drop you two off. Any ideas?”
“Would the woods be safe?” I’m starting to become quite the nature lover.
“Might be, but in the daytime it’s a little more risky.” She bites her lower lip and taps the steering wheel. “We could see a movie. There’s a big blanket in the back, and I could sit next to Carmen with my arm around her shoulders, and you guys could hold hands under the blanket so no one could see!” I think she enjoys thinking of ways to almost, but not quite, get into trouble.
“Will Lainie care if you’re gone for a couple of hours?” I ask.
<
br /> Carmen shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m leaving tomorrow, so what do I care? I say, let’s go to the show!”
“Do you have any money?” I ask Jana.
She pats her pocket. “I took two twenties out of David’s wallet before we left.” She glances at me in the rear view mirror. “And don’t give me that ‘you’re a criminal’ look. He owes me for all the pain and suffering. It’s a down payment on the eventual lawsuit.”
I haven’t been to the movies since…I don’t know, since I was young enough to ask to go to a Disney show. And here on the eve of my terrorist plot, I’m walking into a theater, my girlfriend beside me, just like a normal person on a normal date.
Except not.
“What should we see?” Jana squints at the red digital lights displaying movies and times. “Comedy, drama, sci fi, or action?”
“I’d love to laugh.” Carmen glances at me, and I read the worry on her face. I’m worried too. We both know what could happen if something goes wrong. We decide on a movie that’s supposed to be hilarious. A few minutes later we’re snug in three red sorta-velvet recliners with a big bucket of buttery popcorn, two sodas, a box of Junior Mints, and an old Navajo blanket from the back of Warren’s SUV. We’re in the very last row; I’m on the end, Carmen’s in the middle, and Jana’s on her other side. We look like a couple and their tagalong single friend.
Previews start, and they’re loud. Carmen leans toward me with Jana’s arm around her. I lean toward her. We’re almost touching, but not enough to be indecent. Under the scratchy blanket, my fingers explore the rough fibers, walk blindly from my knee to hers; I make contact with her body and electric sparks charge through me.
Images, splashes of color, distorted waves of sound and voices wash over us, but I don’t really see or hear anything clearly.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Faster, faster, her hand on mine, slightly damp. I slide fingers down the slopes of the back of her hand, soft fawn skin, memorize the contours, body Braille. I must remember this.
The movie runs its course, and I haven’t seen any of it. At some point, Jana’s arm dropped out of the masquerade, and Carmen snuggled closer so our shoulders touch. I’d kiss her, but the credits roll and that means the lights will go up, so reluctantly we let go, separate.
