All Your Pretty Dreams (20 page)

Back at the house Jonny
stood in the dark in the rose garden. The girls ran back and forth
to their cars. Some talked on their phones, laughed, hugged each
other. They must be planning to split as soon as tomorrow’s workday
ended. He’d be gone too. It was time for all of them to move on.
Isabel’s orange VW Beetle sat empty. Inside her room the light was
on. Everyone else was happy, joking, exchanging
addresses.

From the roof early Friday
morning he watched them climb into the white van, tired but
smiling, high-fiving, feeling end-of-season euphoria. They drove
off before Ozzie appeared, late, still buckling his pants. At least
he was working on his falling-down motel, if not his falling-down
marriage. They worked side by side for an hour, finishing a good
half of the motel’s roof with cheap green shingles.

At about ten— Jonny was
ready for his coffee break— the white University van returned,
skidding to a stop on the gravel. Isabel jumped from the passenger
seat and ran to her room. The van backed out and disappeared down
the alley.

He could hear her bumping
around in her room. He nailed on another three sheets then told
Ozzie he was taking a break. He reached the ground as Isabel opened
her car door, suitcase in hand. She nodded at him, lips in a tight
line, threw her suitcase into the back seat, and returned to her
room.

In the house Jonny poured
himself a mug of coffee. Wendy sat slumped at the kitchen table,
staring at a bowl of Rice Krispies. He had to ask her twice how she
was doing.

She jerked out of her
trance. “Just tired.”

“
Probably because you’re
staying out till three.” He pulled out a chair opposite her. “What
is there to do in Red Vine that late?”

Wendy sniffed and pushed
back her tangled hair. “None of your business.”

“
Ah, so you and Zachary—
?”

“
What? Please.”

“
Somebody new
then?”

She shrugged and went back
to her cereal. Jonny took his coffee onto the back porch. A car
engine was cranking but not turning over, Isabel’s VW. By the time
he crossed the rose garden she was pounding the steering
wheel.

“
Need some
help?”

She rolled down the window.
“My car won’t start.”

Jonny drove the Fairlane
around from the street, positioning it behind the Bug. Isabel had
the little back hood open and was bent over, gazing in. It had been
awhile since he’d seen a car with its engine in the
back.

“
I’ll get the cables,” he
said, popping his own hood. When he returned with the jumper
cables, Isabel was sitting on the ground with the owner’s
manual.

“
Where the hell is the
battery?”

They stared at the manual
in silence until Ozzie called down from the roof. “Back seat. Flip
it up.”

Isabel climbed into the
back, tossing her suitcase on the gravel. There it was, under the
seat. Jonny realigned his car and attached the cables. Isabel
cranked the key on the Bug. He revved the big V-8. A lot of noise
but no go.

“
Try again,” he
yelled.

She gave it another try,
pumping the gas pedal. Still nothing. He turned off his
car.

“
Must be dead. Is it
old?”

She shrugged, climbing out.
“Older than me. It’s a ’74.”

“
I mean the battery. Have
you ever changed it?” He crossed his arms, looking at the old VW
with its dents and rust spots.

She didn’t answer, reaching
in to disconnect the battery cables. When she handed them over, her
hand was shaking. She turned to put her head on her arms on the
roof of the car, and began to cry.

At first it was just her
shoulders trembling, but he could tell. After this month he was a
pretty good judge of female emotion. She moaned a few times and
banged the roof of the car, sobbing and sort of growling in anger.
Up on the roof Ozzie made a face. Jonny waited, hoping it wasn’t
something he said. Cuppie was not a crier, nor his mother— until
her recent antics. Most people, he figured, didn’t want help.
Sympathy was just another form of pity. They just had to cry, then
they felt better. He hoped this was the case with
Isabel.

Instead she slumped to the
ground next to her car, head bowed, palms dug into her eyes,
sobbing. He crouched down to her level.

“
Is there— something I can
do? Go find a battery? We might have to go into
Mankato.”

“
Too late.” Another angry
howl. “And my mother will be right about me, about everything. That
will make her so incredibly happy. She’ll be able to crow to all
her friends.”

Jonny sat back on his
heels, confused. This was not like Isabel. She was always so in
control. Except when she was pounding the round fender with her
fist and wailing like her dog died.

“
Your mother’s waiting for
you?”

“
Of course not. She
wouldn’t wait, she’d just give me seven kinds of hell, six of which
she invented herself.” She stopped pounding long enough to look at
him, her eyes red, nose runny, tears all over her face. “It’s my—
my grandfather’s funeral. He died yesterday. She couldn’t
wait
to get him in the
ground so he wouldn’t disrupt weekend plans. I should have left
this morning, but I didn’t. My whole family will be there, but not
me. Because I’m so
stupid
.”

“
You can’t predict when
your car won’t work.” He sat back on the gravel. At least he was
off the hook. It was her family that made her cry. He could
understand that, especially since it seemed they were driving her
crazy. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

“
He was sick a long time.”
She started to breathe normally when a fresh round of tears
erupted. A phone was ringing. She dug into her pocket and pulled it
out, sighing.

“
Hello, Daddy. No, I’m
still in Red Vine. My car won’t start.” Tears ran down her cheeks
yet her voice was calm. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. We
tried that. No, it’s got gas.”

Jonny stood up to give her
some privacy. He shut the hood of the Fairlane as quietly as
possible and wrapped up the jumper cables.

“
I don’t know. I’ll ask.”
Isabel looked up. “Is there a rental car place here? A Hertz or
something?”

Jonny checked with his
father who shook his head. “Not close, no.”

Isabel sighed and put her
hand on her forehead. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just won’t get there. I
can’t see how—” She bit her lip as the tears began to flow
again.

“
I’ll drive you.” Jonny
blurted out the words without thinking. “I’ll drive you to the
funeral. Tell your father we’re leaving right now.”

Jonny tossed her suitcase
into the back seat of his car. Only ten minutes had passed since
he’d made the improbable offer. He suddenly couldn’t wait. He had
to leave—
now.
Isabel stood on the other side of the Fairlane, throwing in
laundry bags, computer cases, backpacks, boxes. “Where’re we going
exactly?”

“
Chicago. North, by the
lake.” She looked at him over the roof. Her eyes were rimmed with
pink. “There’s still time to back out.”

“
What time is the
service?”

“
Five-thirty.” She looked
at her watch. “It takes at least six hours.”

“
Then what are you waiting
for?”

She got in the front seat
and folded her hands. He started the car, put it into reverse then
hit the brake.

“
One second.
Toothbrush.”

He ran across the yard and up
the stairs, changed out of his roofing clothes into jeans and a
clean t-shirt, and threw a couple things in a duffle bag. He ran
back, breathing hard. He pointed the Fairlane down the alley,
waving to his father on the roof. Something in his head, a
lightness like surfacing from deep water. A release, as if he had
cast off something—
someone
— and was free. Maybe someone
he used to be. Someone who never did anything as spontaneous as
drive a stranger to a funeral on the spur of the moment.

Isabel had quieted but
still looked splotchy and subdued. “Thank you,” she said softly. In
another girl he might wonder at the sincerity. But the tremble, as
if it cost her a little pride to say it. “I will pay for the
gas.”

“
For this fine specimen of
Detroit engineering? It won’t be much. It gets, oh, eight, ten
miles to the gallon.”

“
So much?” She gave a thin
smile. “But it has a big tank.”

“
The size of
Texas.”

He felt a little wild. He
was driving away from everyone he knew, including a retrograde
version of himself, with a woman he didn’t even like. What the
hell, it felt good. He slapped the steering wheel as he took the
corner onto the highway and let out a whoop.

She looked startled,
making him laugh. Jesus, he felt good. “I thought I’d never get off
that roof.
”

Part Three

Then and Now

Life is full of misery,
loneliness, and suffering—

and it’s all over much too
soon.

-— Woody Allen

Chapter 15

Isabel felt the hand on her
knee and jerked awake. She straightened herself on the seat,
pulling away from the hand that of course belonged to
Jonny.

“
We’re getting into the
suburbs,” he said. “I need directions.”

“
How long have I been
asleep?” Her mouth was dry. She should brush her teeth before the
funeral.

“
About three hours. You
clocked out just after we got gas.”

She looked at the highway
sign. They weren’t far from home. Ten miles to the exit, then maybe
fifteen minutes. She looked at her watch. Christ! She had to change
her clothes. “I’ll just be back here.”

She climbed over the seat
and began rummaging through her bags. She kept her eye on the
highway exits while wiggling into her black dress and trying not to
let Jonny or any passing motorists get a look at her naked.
Tricky.

“
The next exit, then go
right. That one. Winnetka.”

“
Rush hour. Traffic’s
going to be bad.”

“
Just turn when I say
‘turn.’”

Isabel found her black
flats as they rounded the last corner. The church loomed ahead. The
back seat was a jumble of dirty laundry. “The cathedral. Stop
here.”

He pulled the car over to
the curb, behind the hearse. “You’re all right? You don’t want me
to come in?”

“
I’m fine.” Isabel
stopped, hand on the door. Why would he want to come in? But what
was he going to do after driving her all the way? She had to thank
him, repay him somehow— or at least feed him. She couldn’t just
ditch him. “Sorry. I mean— thanks for everything. Do you— do you
want to come in? Uptight Episcopalians wringing hankies in mock
sorrow?”

His eyes actually twinkled.
“Never been to one. The music might be worth it. Not a polka mass,
I take it.”