Leaving Serenity (11 page)

“Yes, ma’am. I’d like to close my account.”

The big cheeked woman with bright orange hair eyed me through the bars.

“You’re Pastor Zeke’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”

I avoided her stare and pretended to look for something in my bag. “Yes, ma’am.”

“May I ask why you’re closing this account?”

She caught me off guard. I wondered if she’d blow my plan by picking up the phone and calling my p
arents or Grandpa Zeke
.
I mustered up every ounce of courage in my puny little body and said, “Because it’s my money and I want it.”

The teller’s eyes roved from s
ide to side. “Very well, then.”

She rolled a big red “Closed” stamp across the front of the booklet and handed it back to me. She counted the money out in hundreds. “There you go—twelve hundred dollars and forty-five cents.”

I looked at the bills lying on the counter, but I was afraid to take them. “Twelve hundred? I thought it was only six hundred.”

The woman gave me a smug look. Her big orange hair swayed back and forth when she talked. “Well, I happen to know that your daddy has been matching your deposits on this account, dollar for dollar.”

“O
h, right, I forgot. Thank you.”

I felt a pang of guilt as I slid the bills into my bag. Outside, Jack leaned on Goldie’s hood, smoking a cigarette. “Hey, Baby. I’ll just jet over to my sister’s place, grab my duds, and be ready to go. Whatta ya say we meet back here in thirty minutes?”

Watching Jack beat the dust across the back alley, I realized that I didn’t even know where he lived. I worried that I may not be able to find him when I got back.

I called out, “I can drive you there, if you want.”

Jack sprinted away and yelled back, “Thirty minutes. Be there or be square.”

Three blocks down the street, I couldn’t believe my luck
that
no one
was at
home.
I hop
ped out of
the car
and
into
my bedroom in a nanosecond.
While
search
ing
for something to pack my clothes in
, I
realized that I didn’t own a suitcase.
E
y
ing
Beth’s powder blue luggage in the closet
, I hesitated
,
and
then
jumped when the latches flew open. I
stuffed the suitcase with
tie-dyed tee-shirts, two bathing suits,
and three
pair
s
of jeans
.
I added a hairdryer,
makeup
,
and
hair products
, and then snapped it shut
.

Snatching a nubby pencil and a
piece of paper in my denim covered notebook, I scrawled across the page,
Dear Beth, Leaving Serenity. Marrying Jack. Borrowing your suitcase. This money belongs to Daddy. Love, Annette.

I took one last look around the room I had called prison and laid six hundred dollar bills on top of the note. When Goldie’s taillights sped away from Serenity that afternoon, I though
t that my dreams had come true.

Looking at the uneaten burger, I wonder what I ever liked about them. I guess that’s true of a lot of things we once loved.

The woman at the counter calls out, “Can I get ye anythin’ else?”

“No, thanks. How much?”

“Oh, about three-fifty.”

Pulling a five from my pocket, I ask, “Is Andy still around?”

The old woman waved her hand. “Nah, he sold out after Rosie died. He bought a shrimpin’ boat down in Oriental. We ain’t seen him since. You a friend of his?”

I nodded, handing her the five. “I used to be.”

I hit the road again to my final destination one mile outside of town. I walk through the dirt paths, reading every name, wondering if I’ll find what I’m looking for. A small, nondescript headstone reads, Jack Daniel Harris.

I never knew Jack’s sister, Nadine, but she knew how to find me. Ten years ago, she called to tell me that Jack had died from a heroin overdose. I had a flashback of Jack tying a rubber strap around the thickness of his upper arm and the bubble that formed under his skin when the needle missed the vein. If he hit it just right, his head would fall back on the bed before he had time to remove the needle. I’d pull it out for him and let him drift where he wanted to go.

I plop down on the soft grass in front of the marker.

“Hello, Jack. I’m
still your lady
.
You’d like that.
You wild and crazy guy.”

The Honeymoon

Even though I’d never driven on an Interstate highway, it was easy peasy. I realized why Jack thought it was so funny that I didn’t know where South of the Border was. Huge billboards advertised it every minute or two along I-95. It looked like a great place, just like being in Mexico. I was so excited that I could have sprung out of my seat. Jack was passed out in the passenger seat. Nothing could have made me sleep that day. My life finally belonged to me, and I didn’t want to miss one second of it.

I memorized every South of the Border billboard and felt like I knew the short, fat Pedro in person. The billboards got closer together and funnier the closer we came to South Carolina.

“Jack? I think we’re almost there. Pedro says only five miles to go!”

The August sun bounced off Jack’s fluttering eyelids, but he didn’t budge. I still couldn’t believe that an ugly girl like me would be marrying such a gorgeous guy. My mind drifted back to every detail of my fast relationship with Jack until my traveling buddy, Pedro, told me that I had reached my destination. I pulled into the parking lot under the big yellow and orange sombrero.

I shoved Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, we’re here.”

Jack jolted awake and hid his eyes from the late afternoon sun. “Whoa, Baby. Here already?
You
should have woke me up. I wanted to catch a buzz before we got here.”

             
I teased him with a slight tug. “Come on, why do we need that? We’re here!”

             
Jack rolled his sleepy eyes at me. His tone reminded me of
the character,
Dr. Zachary Smith
,
on
Lost in Space
. “My dear, every special occasion calls for a little toke.”

I looked around at the people milling around the parking lot. “Well, the parking lot is pretty full. Do you think it’s safe?”

Jack threw me a wink. “I got it covered, Baby.”

He reached into the glove box and hovered under the dashboard, placing the roach between the fingers of the clamp. He lit up and sucked the silvery line of smoke through his puckered lips. He held his breath and handed over the roach. I shook my head. There was no way I’d ruin this day stuck in la-la-land.

Jack shrugged. “Suit yourself, Baby. You snooze you lose.”

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go have some fun.”

Jack put away the pipe and stash, He straightened his hair in the sun visor mirror, stepped out of the car, and yelled a perfect impression of Speedy Gonzales.

“Andole, andole, arriba, arriba!”

He bowed and held out a hand. “After you, my lovely muchacha!

Jack’s crazy antics cracked me up, and I shivered every time he said that I was pretty. I was happier than I’d ever been when we walked across the sun
baked asphalt toward the shops at South of the Border. Inside, the store was crowded with tons of merchandise that my parents would have called junk. We bought sterling silver wedding bands inlaid with turquoise stones, a big, floppy hippie hat for me, and some Jesus sandals for Jack.

“Hey, Baby. Now, what about those specs?” Jack asked as we walked past a carousel of eyeglasses.

I removed the cat-eye glasses. Jack placed a tiny pair of gold wire rims on my face and twirled me around to face the mirror.

“Check it out, Babe!”

I glanced in the mirror and then looked at the people milling around in the dis
tance. Everything looked clear.

“Cool.” I nodded and threw the cat-eyes in the big garbage can near the carousel.

Jack leaned back to get a bette
r look. “Groovy, Baby, groovy!”

Jack pulled me into a loving embrace and kissed me embarrassingly and seductively in front of God and everybody. I pulled away, but he held me tight. “Let’s get married, my groovy lady.”

Two seconds later, Goldie was headed toward a little wedding chapel in Dillon, South Carolina. A large woman wearing a red muumuu with big yellow flowers greeted us in the doorway of the dingy, one-room affair. She held out a faded bridal bouquet. I waved my hand and declined the white plastic flowers that didn’t go with my bellbottomed jeans and tie-dyed tee-shirt. A bald man rose from a chair in the corner. He explained that his wife, Rosa, would be our witness and my attendant. I caught a whiff of her Avon Topaz cologne as she stood next to me holding the bouquet. My eye landed on the yellowing, plastic lilies. The man stood in front of us and read from a little black book. Jack nudged my shoulder with his elbow, and I quickly muttered, “I will.”

Jack’s voice sounded reverent and solemn as he swore, “I do.”

I paid the couple ten dollars for the ceremony and thirty dollars for a room in the white cement block building next to the wedding chapel. Jack insisted on carrying me across the threshold. We bumped into the bed, and Jack tumbled down on it. I pulled back the vinyl drapes, feeling his eyes on me. I battled the claustrophobic feeling that crept up on me every time the memory
of homecoming night slipped in.

Jack rolled over and stared at me. “We did it, Baby! You are now
Mrs. Jack Daniel Harris.”

“Yeah, it’s a little scary, right?”

“Come ’ere, Babe.” Jack called to me with a slight jerk of his head.

His smooth voice sent a tinkle up my spine as I reluctantly took the two steps to the bed. He pulled me on top of him and planted a soft kiss on my lips.

“You’re the boss, my lady. When it comes to this, you say when, where, and how.”

***

We picked up tacos for dinner. Jack ate his in one bite and threw the wrapper aside. He dug into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a ball of tinfoil. He held the foil as gently as a gold nugget between his fingertips.

“Hashish, my dear?”

I took a bite from the taco and shook my head.

“No, thanks. You go ahead.”

Jack smoked the sweet smelling clay from a small glass pipe and then fell asleep. I ended my Mexican honeymoon watching
The High Chapparal
on TV. My thoughts bounced back and forth between the small motel room and Serenity. I thought about being in bed with Jack. The things I worried about the most turned out to be not so bad, like when Kizzie left and having sex with Jack. It was the things I didn’t worry about that got me in trouble, like losing my temper and shooting off my mouth. I thought about Andy at the Bluebird and wondered what my family was saying about me back in Serenity. I compared my brief, uneventful marriage ceremony to the elaborate wedding Mama had planned for Beth at Grandpa Zeke’s church. Either way, married was married. I lulled myself to sleep dreaming about Florida sunshine and Daytona Beach.

I studied the map spread in front of me while Jack showered the next morning. I traced a straight line down I-95 with my finger. Jack stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, brushing his teeth.

“Whassup, Baby?” he sputtered around the toothbrush.

“Oh, I was just seeing how far it is to Daytona.”

Jack turned and spat in the sink. “Daytona?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Baby, we ain’t going to Daytona. We’re going to Daleton.”

“Daleton? I thought you said we were going to Daytona.”

Jack tried to kid around. “Baby, have you been hittin’ my stash this morning?”

My cold stare told him that I wasn’t kidding. “No. I know that you said Daytona, where it’s summertime all the time.”

I quickly scanned the map for Daleton, Florida. “Jack, I don’t even see that town on the map.”

Jack released a long sigh and plopped down next to me. “Know what, Baby? Sometimes you’re just too smart for your own good. You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Scout’s honor, I cannot tell a lie. I told you we were going to Daytona because I thought it would make you want to come with me.”

Jack gave me a sad puppy dog look. “You mad at ole’ Jack?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not mad. I’d go anywhere with you. I’m just confused. Do you know where we’re going? Because I don’t see Daleton on this map.”

Jack folded the map and said, “Sure I do! My man, Ray, he’s in Daleton, right off I-95. He’s got a motel, for real, and he needs somebody like you and me to come run things for him.”