“Logo for what?”
“Life, I guess.”
I stared at the page and then flipped to the one after it. A single line of text read “once upon a time there was love in my life.”
I turned to face her and she shrugged, closing her eyes to half mast.
Popped tires or not, she did it on purpose. I just had to figure out how much of the why Luke knew.
It’s Getting Harder and i run so far away
There is nothing in life that remotely resembles what John Hughes promised us all in the ‘80s. Even Ferris Bueller's parents had cooler lives than I do. And nobody has ever given up society’s constructs to want to be with me. Still, that morning I was fumbling through my available ‘80s movie soundtracks. Finding the right tunes was essential to what I was about to face. It was bound to be a chafe of a day as M would’ve said.
I’d carried my CDs in a black and white bag from Sephora that I stole from my daughter, who does remind me an awful lot of Claire in the Breakfast Club but with more of an edge and less ginger. I wondered if she was sharing any jewelry with juvenile delinquents right now.
Dealing with the two men in my life that I wished I could just ignore forever, Luke and Mike, would not be a good time. Mike left another voicemail last night but I had been otherwise too occupied to answer.
I had been busy reading every first and last word on the page in the bible to see if there were any secret messages. What is the Gideon Bible anyway and what’s wrong with King James? Why do hotels love that one? There’s probably some giant association of bible salesmen that brokered a deal at the dawn of time with an inn runner named Gideon. “We’ll name them all after you, if you just place your order for say...100?”
That’s how things get done or maybe it was just a little eyebar that cracked 1/8th of an inch thick that had stopped the shipment of all the other kinds of bibles and Gideon was all that was left. Sometimes you don’t know what the flapping of a butterfly’s wings sets to happening.
When you park just shy of a railroad crossing, even when it’s on the side of the road and not directly over the track in a town with the highest car to train collision record in the nation, people look at you funny. Some people look at you so funny that they call the local sheriff without telling you. But the benefit to doing that in a small town is that the sheriff just happens to be the twin brother of the guy you’ve been putting off meeting for what seems like ages. You can’t always get what you want but sometimes life comes along and kicks you in the pants or so the song goes.
And the local sheriff looks at your license and knows before you do because you’re apparently all his brother has been talking about since her death. He told the sheriff brother that when Sara comes through, she will bring with her all the answers of the earthly realm. Had I known that ahead of time. I would’ve put Luke in touch with my kids and then he would’ve realized I know nothing. They are the ones with all of the answers.
I was both relieved to have a police escort and upset. It would’ve been nice to stop at the local pancake house for a few meals before moving on to Luke’s ranch. I had every intention of winding up there some time that day but I was hoping it would be more toward tomorrow than that moment.
But sheriffs don’t want to wait especially when they think you might be acting suspiciously. It turns out sheriffs and dads have equally loud voices when they speak about me and what I like to do.
I did ask the sheriff after he returned from his cruiser if I might walk up the tracks a little bit before we went to his brother’s house. He said we could but that we’d be better served walking the tracks where she was killed. These tracks were not “hers.” These tracks were what she would’ve been killed on had she been driving to town and not through Luke’s field.
“Marin drove Luke’s car through the corn field and came up on the tracks right as the train approached. She was probably out having some fun, became disoriented, approached the tracks at a high speed with little visibility and was probably only aware for a moment or two, if any. That’s some reassurance, right?”
But something wasn’t quite right about that story. She didn’t get hit broadside while crossing the tracks. She got smacked head on because she had driven up the tracks. Why the difference in accounts?
I watched my incredulous expression in the reflective surface of his sunglasses. It felt like one of those interrogation rooms at the station. I knew he could see me but I couldn’t see his eyes to tell if he was kidding me. His badge conveyed that he’s not much of a joker.
My phone buzzed and I needed the distraction so I answered and said hello before realizing who it was.
“Hi.” I said pretending it was the most important call of my life.
“Hey there. You sound funny. Everything okay?”
Damn it. Mike. Serves me right for not looking first.
“No, I’m talking to the sheriff right now. I have to call you back.”
I clicked before waiting for his answer or commentary.
After I got off the phone I realized just how wrong that was to do to the father of my children but I guess he at least knew I was alive. I held the button down and turned the phone off, flipping it onto my front seat.
Officer Luke’s Twin Brother watched me in the way police do when they’re not quite sure which category you fit into--law abiding citizen or fodder for a Cops episode. I wasn’t altogether sure at that point either.
“M...errr...Marin…” It was still weird to use her name. I always just used her initial, which made a lot of people think I was calling her Em, short for Emma.
“Marin was driving through the field? Not up the track?”
“Yes.”
He eyeballed my license plate.
“Yes, which?” I asked.
“The field.”
“But that’s not what I was told.”
“By who?”
I wanted to correct him with “whom” but thought that probably wouldn’t end well.
“Luke.” Or was it M’s dad? I couldn’t remember.
“I told Luke everything I knew and gave him the accident report so he shouldn’t have told you anything different.”
“But the conductor said she looked at him like she was waiting for a bus.”
That had been a striking detail I couldn’t wipe from my memory like the day I sat on the school steps waiting in the frigid gray November afternoon waiting for a mother who still hasn’t come back for me.
“Conductor wouldn’t have said that.” He declared.
“He did. I know it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Luke told me.”
“Don’t know why he would have. Clint’s not doing real well. He sustained head damage and suffered a major heart attack. Doctors aren’t sure which happened first, the collision or the attack.”
“I don’t understand. It’s all confused.”
I steadied myself on the bumper of my car. This wasn’t right. She traveled up the tracks toward the oncoming train. She did this on purpose.
“It wasn’t an ACCIDENT!” I insisted.
The loud emphasis on the last word surprised me and the sheriff. He placed a hand on his hip which I was reminded was a fingertip snap away from his gun.
“Let’s go see Luke Ma’am. He’s waitin’ on ya.”
I nodded and he walked toward his cruiser. I started toward my car and he cleared his throat. I turned to see if he was simply congested or trying to get my attention. He motioned with his head to come over to where he was. I obeyed because that’s what you do when the sheriff tells you to unless you like the taste of gravel and sand, which I do not.
I kicked the dirt clumps on my way to the back seat of his cruiser as he walked around the side of the car. He opened the passenger seat and cleared his throat again. Maybe it’s from too much chewing tobacco. I obediently followed his lead but it felt like some weird date situation with him holding the door until I was safely tucked into the car.
; Some people are afraid of police officers and their power but I gave little thought to the things he could do to me. My mind was on M. Could this have all been an accident? Was everyone else right and I was wrong? Could she have had a few cold brews on a hot day, taken the car out for a little fun in the fields, not realized how deep in she was, and accidentally driven up to the tracks? I saw Children of the Corn. That corn could get really high and all sorts of creepy things could be hidden there. For reals.
“He couldn’t blow his whistle.” Office Not-so-Friendly said.
“Who?”
“The conductor. We have a noise ordinance in place during school days.”
“Huh?”
“The train whistle distracts kids so the local council made it illegal for trains to blow their whistle during school hours.”
He tapped on the roof of his pick-up truck cruiser.
“But you said she came out of the corn in a hurry.”
“She did but he still said he wanted to honk.”
I didn’t care if the conductor wanted to honk or not. Maybe she didn’t leave me after all.
We drove in silence as I thought about how different his story was than anything I had heard previously. Up ahead in the road, a large black pile of something held my interest more than this conversation did. I felt the need to focus on something real, something that didn’t require assumptions and conjecture. As we drove past the lump, I could see it was a large, hairy boar with wings. It looked like some strange Red Bull commercial come to life. That didn’t make sense to my brain either. Maybe something was really wrong with me. It felt like an episode of House where a patient has a delusion that her best friend killed herself and no one believes her and than Dr. House discovers there was no dead friend just a deadly brain tumor. Everyone would be so relieved. But then I saw the winged creature’s head pop out of the wasted bacon’s mid section and I realized it wasn’t so weird after all.
A few feet down the road was a white cross decorated in dime-store silk flowers and metallic ribbon. A teddy bear stood sentinel at its base. There’s something life-crushingly sad about children getting killed alongside roads. Their lives snuffed out by a driver who picks the wrong time to look at their radio dial. Then there are adults so old they can’t remember exactly how old, sitting around waiting to die in facilities that no one ever visits like Death and their families had forgotten them. I worried I would be one of them. Then I worried I wouldn’t be.
Where was M? I looked around the front seat panicked, but I knew the answer. She was keeping my phone company, alongside a quiet road just south of the train tracks. I had gotten her this far and then forgotten about her. Hopefully Luke wasn’t in the mood to see her at her grayest anyway.
I recognized him from the many pictures I’d seen on Facebook but the ‘book hadn’t prepared me for the long confident stride and the ease with which he traversed the fence. Even from across a field, I could see why M was drawn to him. He was the exact opposite of his portly, easily excited brother.
He strode up to me...that’s the only way to describe his walk, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. I expected him to have some straw or a Marlboro cigarette hanging out of his mouth but he didn’t, just a wide, toothy grin.
“Well, Sara, I sure am sorry to meet you under these circumstances but I appreciate you comin’ by.”
He extended his hand and I placed mine in his. He didn’t bother to ask his brother where he found me or any of the normal details one would expect under the circumstances. He barely did more than nod at his brother, who tipped his hat and got back into his truck.
I gave the sheriff a polite waive not all that thrilled that he had brought me here on his timeline and not mine. I had half expected him to stick around and drive me back to my car in a few but he was off before I could even bring up the subject. Luke offered to show me around as I watched the dust from the sheriff’s vehicle saying goodbye.
I don’t remember which rooms he showed me because I didn’t look into any of them as he swung each door open and narrated exactly what it was. I couldn’t look at them because it felt like she should be there. I regretted my visit immediately.
Luke led me back out onto the front porch and asked me where my things were. He popped open a mini fridge and handed me a cold one before I even answered.
“Back at the car.”
“Right, Travis said…Why were you out there?”
I shrugged.
“We’ll get your stuff and go pick up the car in a bit. But I need to ask you some things.”
I shrugged but he wasn’t watching me. He was watching the field. Maybe it would be like Field of Dreams and just us being there on the porch will wish her into existence.
“Why are you so damn sure she took her own life? Because I can’t think of one reason why she would’ve.”
Denial. Another stage of grief.
“I don’t know.”
Depression and acceptance that none of it matters, a modified version of the stages.
“That’s not an answer.” he demanded.
Anger. Another. We were making fast progress.
I shrugged again.
He looked hard at me and clenched his jaw. I was close enough to see the vein that throbbed across the bone. He was angry or sad. I didn’t know him well enough to know which.
He took a long drink, finished his beer, wiped his mouth with his arm and glared hard at me again. It had just crossed my mind that this was going to be a really long night, when he placed his bottle on the fence along with about ten other half-shattered ones. It was the only whole one. He strode to his truck and called for me to get in.
Listen to the Words Just Got lucky
I pushed my refried beans around my plate. There was something about seeing Luke in person, and finally meeting him, that made me wish I was anywhere but here. The setting sun was piercing through his window, causing him to turn his gaze on me. Full. Hard.
He had tricked me into ordering something and then told the waitress to just bring him chips and a Bud every time she saw him running low. I guess drinking and driving isn’t an issue in a town where heads of cattle outnumber people and your brother is the sheriff.
“Aren’t you going to order.”
He didn’t answer. He played with his silverware, standing the fork on its side and creating a seesaw with the knife. Then he placed a sugar packet, and then the salt shaker giving them each their own ride. I watched fascinated by his hands. I’m lying. There’s nothing fascinating about his hands. I was trying to avoid eye contact. For a guy so eager to talk to me every Tuesday for hours, he sure didn’t have much to say to me in person.
Travis walked in and sat at the counter. They nodded politely to one another.
The waitress asked if I needed a box. I pretended I didn’t hear her. I wanted the world to think I was mute...or at least I wanted Luke to think it.
Luke shook his head no for me but I pretended not to notice because my refried beans were the most interesting things I had seen on my whole trip.
It’s weird how your mind can convince you that staring at a pile of mush will convince other people not to talk to you. Apparently, my mind was not in tune with his because he talked anyway. My vision drifted from my brown pile of mush to his mouth. The stubble came right to his upper lip and curled into it. The mouth that M kissed every night.
He knew a side of her that I never did. He knew the person she was when she was guarded. There were things she could never share with him. Things I knew well. I felt vaguely justified by that.
“I want you to tell me how you can be so sure she did this on purpose? Do you realize what you’re saying when you say this?” he asked like I was a child who had accused someone of something very bad.
Maybe he had talked to Palmer. He had the same defensive tone as his almost brother-in-law.
I shrugged again. It seemed to be my go-to stance, non-aggressive. Means very little.
“Can we get my car?”
> I wanted to leave to avoid the potential of making someone feel worse than he already did. I worried he’d be too drunk to pick it up if I waited any longer. Plus, my best friend was sitting in the front seat or the glove compartment. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where exactly. I hoped she was still there with my phone. Panic scratched at my neck and chest. He might’ve said yes or “of course, let’s go now” but all I saw was the back of his plaid shirt as he yanked open the door.
Like the weather, i’m half past caring
I pulled into his driveway after he was already out of his car. So much for letting me follow him home. I was relieved to see the light on in the house though. At least I could tell I had pulled into the correct long, dusty driveway. I thought it’d be easy to find it with the oversized Lone Star flag flying but apparently he’s not the only patriotic Texan out there.
I turned off the engine and considered sleeping in my car. My phone beeped alerting me to my messages. Easing my seat back, I closed my eyes and listened to the soothing voice tell me I had 4 new messages.
“It’s Mike. Call me.”
“Mike here. I’m a little worried. You said something about a sheriff. What’s up?”
“Why aren’t you answering your damn phone? If you’re in jail and you used your one call to call anyone else, I’m gonna…”
“It’s 10:05. Please just call me.”
I look at my watch. That was an hour ago. I decide to text instead hoping he was asleep. He calls before I even finish typing the text.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Radiator Springs.”
I smile and catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I send a silent hope that it’s just bad lighting that makes me look like that, paunchy and pimply. Like I’m slowly melting. The curse of middle age.
“Seriously. What was this about a Sheriff?”
“How are the kids?”
“God damn it, Sara. Would you stop messing with me? Are you in jail or not?”
West of You Page 17
