Dave and Marva belonged in a different world. They must have lived together forever. I could tell Marva had been pretty, even though she looked sunken now. Maybe Dave had been a football player and she was a cheerleader and they thought they would have a perfect life, with two kids who looked as great as they did. Instead they had a geeky kid named Marcus and a kid named Shane who was not at all what they expected. You never know. My mother was right.
“Sorry,” said Dave. “It hits me when I’m thinking about something else. I’ll be back in the world and then there it comes, what happened to Shane.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept walking alongside him, squirming inside. Root ran ahead after a squirrel and stood startled when it ran up a tree. He barked, as if that was going to bring it down.
“Shane would have liked the woods here,” said Marva. “I wish we could have brought him.”
“He hated looking at birds,” said Dave. “Or maybe he hated the way I looked at birds.”
Root was already at the door, waiting. When Dave opened it, he rushed to the water bowl and began lapping so loud that no one had to talk, then he shook his head hard enough to fling water onto the shiny refrigerator, where it dripped to the white floor. Marva sat on the sofa, which looked even plainer after the bird show over at the lagoon. Dave started arranging logs in the fireplace and soon an orange glow was bouncing off the oversized windows. Root lay down on the stone hearth, as close as he could go to the fire without climbing inside, and sighed loudly. He alternated his gaze between me and Dave, raised one eyebrow and then the other, not sure who he belonged to.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I said, sitting down next to him, but I knew I was talking to myself.
“You want to call your parents?” Dave said.
“Is that what I’m here for?”
“I’m sorry,” said Dave. “I don’t know anything about you. I assume your parents are worried about you. You don’t think about something like that when you’re young. I know Shane wasn’t thinking about us. It’s just . . .” He paused and took his time arranging another log on the fire so that all the wood stood in a teepee shape. “Well, I thought about Shane all the time. Was he lying out on the sidewalk? I saw that in your neighborhood. You have to step right over bodies. You forget how every single one of them is someone’s kid. Or used to be. I guess folks over there are used to it. I read how they have a memorial service every year for all the people who died on the street.”
He went on like that, tinkering with the fire and talking about the people he’d seen on Haight, like he was talking about the birds on the lagoon. I didn’t tell him that he might have stepped over any of us. He could have walked by me. One day I had a bad cold and was sleeping, curled up against a wall near the smoke shop, when a lady who worked in there poked me in the back, just the tip of her shoe at first and then tap, tap, tap like she was nudging a ball. I nearly turned around and grabbed her foot just to hear the scream. “You can’t lie there all day,” she’d said, but she could see I was wiped out. “Just make sure you clean up after yourself.” I’d told her I would, of course, and then I’d left as soon as she turned around. I didn’t need her making me feel worse.
“I want you to call your parents, Maddy,” said Dave. “I want them to know where you are.”
“My parents are not wondering where I am. I can tell you that,” I said, my hand resting on Root’s head.
“I think you’d be surprised that, wherever they are, they are worried. They are worried all the time.”
“First of all, I don’t know my dad,” I said. “He’s dead.” Dave didn’t change his expression. He kept looking at me like he might start crying again. Marva sat on the couch and massaged her birdlike hands so hard I thought she was going to break some bones.
“And what about your mother? Where were you before you ended up”—and then he corrected himself because Shane had clearly ended up, but I was still going—“before you came to the park? Where did you live?”
It was what the counselors asked when they visited the shelter or came to talk to us on the street. The cops sometimes said it too, after they hassled us. Where did you come from? What were you escaping? Who beat you or molested you or threatened you or never spoke to you or told you every day you were someone you weren’t, so that finally you had to leave? What is it you need? If we get you what you need will you go home?
“It wasn’t that way,” I said.
“What way?” said Marva.
“What you were thinking,” I said. “No one was beating me up.”
“I didn’t think that,” said Dave. “You seem to be such a bright young woman. How did you come to live in the park?”
Dave looked at me the way my mother used to, like if I didn’t play along with whatever game was in her head that she would get unhinged. But I was not going to tell him how my mother had gotten sick, which was what Miss V said, that the chemicals in her brain were so mixed up that she went psychotic. And how I had gone to live with my cousins, who might as well have lived on another planet, but who didn’t hit me. Their list of punishments was taped on the refrigerator where everyone could see. Go look it up, see what you have coming, Karen would tell us. She went to Walmart every week and bought enough food and clothes for us all. There was cable TV in the living room. We got an allowance.
“Your parents?” said Dave.
I didn’t tell him that Karen and Chip were like air. You need it but you don’t feel it around you.
“Maybe we could help you get a job,” said Marva. “Or you could go to college if you wanted. You could still think about that. You have time.”
“Honey,” said Dave, watching me try not to roll my eyes too obviously at Marva. “We’re just trying to understand, right?”
“I just don’t want you to give up,” said Marva.
Dave was giving me this look I couldn’t stand. The worst thing would be to have us both crying. I was starting to see that the guy could do that to me. My throat was tight, a sore spot of pressure building up in the middle. So I started talking, about how I liked staying in San Francisco. I couldn’t wait to get back there. What I didn’t say was how everything had changed, that I felt like I needed to watch in every direction or I would end up like Shane.
“I didn’t know Shane, if that’s what you’re after,” I finally said.
“But did you know some of the same kids?” said Dave. “Did you ever run into him?”
“I never saw him,” I said. “I mean, before.”
“I just figured you would know how he lived when he got there, what it was like for him,” said Dave.
I wanted to tell him that Shane was probably like everyone else. He got by any way he could. Maybe he was strung out or played music on the street or was on a waiting list for some program. Who knows what he’d had to do? The fire logs had collapsed into embers, still giving off so much heat I thought Root’s fur would melt. He was panting loud but didn’t move away.
“You must be tired,” said Dave. “How about I make up the couch for you?”
“I’d like to go back, like you said I could.” I stood and put on my coat.
Dave put his hands on my shoulders. “Please,” he said. “Please stay.”
I wanted to yell at him to leave me alone, I had enough to think about. No wonder Shane wanted to get away, with his dad on his ass all the time. But I sat on the minimalist couch, which Marva had covered with white sheets.
“You’ll stay?” said Dave. “Just tonight?”
Marva handed me a fluffy white towel nearly as big as the couch. “Bathroom down the hall has a nice walk-in steam shower, so make yourself at home. There is more food in the cabinet if you’re hungry. We didn’t even give you a proper dinner. Sometimes when it’s just the two of us, we forget to eat. Well, I do.”
I took the towel and stood by the fire. Marva stepped toward me, hoping for a hug, but that was not going to happen. She waved instead. I nodded and got into bed. I knew I should have
showered, especially since the white sheets were going to have the outline of my body. I was full of fire smoke and sour body odor, but I was too tired to make the effort. Root jumped up on the couch and burrowed by my feet.
The door to Dave and Marva’s room was shut when I woke up. The sun was still low, but I couldn’t tell how early it was. I found an apple and the rest of the chili in the refrigerator, which I split with Root. The bathroom felt bigger than the room all the girls shared at Chip and Karen’s, a tiled white cave with a skylight full of tree branches and fluffy clouds. The steam shower had too many knobs and pipes so I settled for a quick bath in the giant white tub, where I left a ring of dirt. Then I put my clothes back on and took the ocean blue ceramic soap dish, the only spot of color in the room, and stuffed it into my backpack. I thought about leaving a note, but what would I say? I couldn’t give them what they wanted. I didn’t know who Shane was or how he lived. It was better if they didn’t see me leaving. I clipped on Root’s leash, shut the door behind me and walked down the driveway, turning away from the lagoon at the end, back toward the city.
chapter 12
Karen always said that everything starts with a plan. A genius without one was going to live in a van. An idiot with a plan could get somewhere. I guess she didn’t follow her own advice. Living in the San Fernando Valley with two rooms full of problem kids did not sound like a good plan. She and Chip had their own two boys, who were in high school when I arrived, and their house was in a commotion all the time. They couldn’t keep track of who went where. The foster kids moved in and left. You never knew why. Sometimes there were four of us and other times it was just me. I was the only one who stayed for so many years, until the state said I was grown up and had to find something else to do.
Some days when I cut school, I took the bus all the way down the 405 to the beach, near the house where my parents used to live. I’d wander around and eat hot dogs or pizza that people left on the tables or lift candy from the mini mart. That’s when I got good at stuffing what I wanted into my pockets. I knew how to turn and do it so the cameras didn’t see me. I’d get home and stash mascara, lip gloss, or a bag of M&M’s under my bed. It made me happy to know it was there, a small secret no one could take from me. Karen would ask how school was and I’d say fine. She’d ask what happened and I’d say nothing and that was it. She and Chip collected money for keeping me and they gave me food and five dollars a month to keep in my plastic wallet, but they had no clue about me.
Karen left us alone as long as we weren’t fighting. She said we needed to be team players. She gave us T-shirts that said team bander, over a row of smiley faces, and said we had to wear them on Sundays, to show respect for ourselves and others. We were not born civilized, but we could learn. That didn’t work, but what did she know? When she wasn’t home we sometimes snuck change from her purse, tried on her clothes, and dared one another to pee in the little sink off her bedroom. The boys watched porno on her computer until it froze, a big picture of naked boobs on the screen. “Someone is not going to be having dinner, I’m telling you what,” she said, when she saw that. That was Team Bander.
Then I graduated high school, which surprised Karen and Chip. They’d gone to meetings when the vice principal called to say how many days I’d cut, but then they forgot about it. Other kids caused more trouble at school. And I did the homework even when I didn’t turn it in. I filled in workbooks and math sheets for other kids in the house. Sometimes they paid me, but it didn’t matter. I liked writing down the right answer, one small problem after another, solved.
Chip and Karen signed me up for a county program that was supposed to teach me how to live on my own, but I’d basically been doing that, even if they didn’t notice. I was eighteen, done with being in Los Angeles. Karen wanted me to work at a hair salon and learn a skill so I could support myself, and probably so I could take care of her hair that looked like a dried-up palm tree. But I was not a hair salon kind of person. I couldn’t tell what would make anyone look better.
“Missy thinks she knows it all,” she said.
She didn’t expect I’d stuff clothes in my school backpack and buy a bus ticket north. I never called or wrote a letter to tell her where I was. My life with her was over and there was nothing she could do. I sat awake all night on the bus, afraid to close my eyes while it climbed past the foothills, through the huge dirt fields of the valley and back over to the coast. I had heard about San Francisco, how you can just live your life, because everyone isn’t watching you all the time.
When I got off the bus, it was breakfast time and I thought how Karen would be setting out bowls on the kitchen table. She’d call me the way she always did, her voice deeper and heavier if I didn’t answer. She’d figure out I’d left, but what was she going to do? I should have taken more money from her drawer. I looked at a big map on the wall and read it out loud to myself.
“Where you headed?” said a guy with a deep sunburn, carrying a worn pack and guitar case. I didn’t need to answer because he talked enough for both of us. He said he was from Houston and was on his way to Oakland. Everyone was ending up there. I could join if I wanted, he said, gesturing to two other guys sitting in a corner, with paper cups out and a sign saying they needed money for bus tickets. I said I just got to town and I was staying, at least for now.
“Okay,” he said, “but take a grape for the road.” He handed me one purple grape and I popped it in my mouth. I studied the map to show I knew what I was doing and then walked out of the station. I had no idea where to go.
I passed office buildings and a huge tower that reflected the sun so sharply I had to turn my face away. I ended up at Fisherman’s Wharf, a place I’d seen on the map, on a street lined with restaurants and pots of boiling crab. I got enough to eat by swatting away the seagulls for what was left on outdoor tables. The first night I stayed in a small park at the end of the street, but I could see it wasn’t going to work. I was too cold to sleep, and people were up all night, one group in a tent and another in a car that blasted music every time someone opened the door. The next day I wandered, watching jugglers and dancers and someone who painted himself gold and pretended to be a statue. Crowds gathered and then paid, but that wasn’t going to help me. I didn’t have an act.
I spent all of my money on a hostel that was above a souvenir shop. They said they’d pay me to clean the bathroom and sweep up outside, but it wasn’t enough to stay there so I was out after a week. But by then I’d learned I was at the wrong park. Golden Gate Park was all the way over on the other side of the city. When I got there after hours of walking, it was like people were waiting for me. This is where you set up, this is where you sleep, where you’ll get hassled. If you are hungry here, people said, then you’re doing something wrong.
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Up ahead the Golden Gate Bridge looked like it had been pasted in the sky. I had seen it from the top of a hill in the park and I’d driven over it with Dave. But I’d never been next to the giant spiked columns and curved ropes that hooked onto the road and kept it from falling into the water. Ash said walking across it would be creepy, that all he would be able to think about was how it was the most famous place to jump. People came there from all over the world to do it. They parked their cars or bikes nearby and then went over the railing when no one was watching. Ash thought he would look down and get the urge, but I wanted to see what it felt like to be over the bay, hanging between two places, suspended away from everything else in my life.
Root and I walked under a line of trees. The fog was bunched up, away over the ocean and I started to get warm. Root’s tongue was hanging out. I had forgotten to bring water for either of us. Birds circled overhead and the longer I listened the more I could tell the difference in their voices, chirps and hard cries. It wasn’t any kind of song that went together, more like a punk chorus. Dave had made me think about them. Terns, coots, and whatever else had been out there, the gangly bird that had invented a new way of
swallowing. I thought what I would tell Ash, how I was sort of kidnapped by Dave the birdman and his birdlike wife and their house of nothingness. Fleet’s rat would probably be bird food out here. Tiny wouldn’t have a chance. The only one who would make it was Hope, who could lead bird watching tours.
The sun burned off strings of fog as they tried to settle on the bridge. I could feel the rush of wind from cars passing by me. Root trotted along, leaning forward, but I needed to stop. I had exactly fifty cents in my pocket and there was nowhere to set up with a sign, even if I’d had cardboard to write on. san francisco. get me home. I had nothing to contribute for gas or anything else if someone even stopped to pick me up. Why would they? I had seen myself in the mirror at Dave and Marva’s, torn jeans, a flap of one shoe hanging loose. And there was Root, looking kind of crazy.
Ash said all you had to do was stand on the road and look like you wanted to go somewhere. Make a face that says slow down, pick me up. Point your thumb and wave at any driver who even half pays attention. If he were here, we would already be in a car instead of thinking up every reason to stay invisible. I put my pack as far from the road as I could and tied Root’s leash to one of the straps. He sat and watched while I waved a thumb at cars and projected my open mind. If Dave pulled up in his sedan, I’d run toward the sign for Mill Valley. Dave wouldn’t follow me because it would be obvious I didn’t want to get in his car. “Okay, Maddy,” I said. “Missy.” I hummed and then stopped when I realized it was one of Fleet’s stupid songs. It seemed like a long time passed but no one stopped. A few drivers met my eyes. A guy in a red convertible sports car waved but didn’t slow down. I tried not to think like my mom, that everyone out there was ready to snatch me.
At the Edge of the Haight Page 9
