Runaways (28 page)

“I've been awake awhile,” she confessed, “thinking about all this.”

“What are you saying, Crystal?”

“Maybe it's time we stopped fooling ourselves. It's been an adventure, but that's about it. We can't expect anything more, realistically that is.”

“You know we can't go back. You know what will happen,” I reminded her.

“Not if we tell the police everything. They'll believe us, even if it means leading them back to the place where we left the cocaine. I put a rock over the bag. I'm sure it will still be there and there should be enough of a residue to convince them we were telling the truth. Gordon will be arrested.”

“What if he's not?”

“Even if he's not, they won't put us back with him. They'll know how bad that would be,” she said.

“Would they?” I kicked a rock and sighed, tears coming to my eyes. “I think I'd rather take my chances starving.”

“Or becoming one of those girls Norman and Nana's son accused us of being . . . live on the streets?” She shook her head. “You don't want that, Brooke. We just have to . . .”

“What?”

“Be wards of the state awhile longer,” she said. “It's our particular miserable fate. I'm sorry.”

“Me too. Don't tell them yet,” I said, gazing at the station wagon. “Let's go as far as we can just for . . .”

“Fun? I don't think Raven and Butterfly see this as fun anymore,” Crystal said.

“No, not fun, just to feel we really tried. Okay?”

“As long as you understand what the end will be,” she said.

“I do.” I swallowed down my sob and took a deep breath. She put her arm around me and hugged me to her.

Crystal could be very affectionate sometimes. She wasn't all brains. She was just good at keeping her feelings under an armor of words and logic and facts. I had no doubt that in her quiet, private
moments, she cried as much as any of the rest of us did.

“Let's wake them,” I said, “and get back on the road.”

She nodded and looked at me with those perceptive intense eyes of hers.

“I almost wish we were stopped and caught It would be easier than giving up,” she said.

I nodded.

“Yes, I suppose we could live with ourselves much easier then.”

Butterfly was just rising when we opened the doors. Raven moaned and turned so she could bury her face in her pillow.

“Come on, Raven. We've got to put the back seat up and get going. I don't want anyone finding us here,” I said, “and arresting us for trespassing.”

She sat up, a look of exhaustion in her face.

“Slave driver,” she said. “You should be working for the state prison system.”

“We could all end up in it if we don't get moving,” I replied.

She and Crystal fixed the back seat and then Raven got into the front and I started the engine. I backed out of the dead-end road and we were on our way again. When we saw a sign advertising an all-you-can-eat breakfast for one dollar, ninety-nine cents, Raven pleaded with Crystal.

“That's cheap enough so we don't have to brown bag it, isn't it, Crystal?”

Crystal relented and we stopped. It was cafeteria style and populated mostly by senior citizens.

“It's because they live on a strict fixed income,” Crystal explained.

Many heads turned our way when we approached
the line, got our trays and moved through.

“It almost feels like the Lakewood,” Raven said. “I'm losing my appetite.”

Nevertheless, she ate very well, going back for seconds on the scrambled eggs. We used the bathrooms, washed up, and got ready to get back on the road. In the parking lot, standing near our station wagon was an elderly lady wearing a coat that I thought was much too heavy for the time of year. She had at least a dozen brown and black bobby pins holding her wispy, gray hair up, strands falling loosely on the sides and back of her head. She wore no makeup, but her cheeks were rosy. Her dark eyes were small and her mouth, although full, slanted a bit in the right corner. When I mentioned that to Crystal, she said she thought the woman might have had a stroke. She stood straight enough in granny shoes with heavy, thick heels. However, they looked like they had seen their best days about ten years ago.

She held a shopping bag that was stuffed with garments, its sides bulging. As we approached, she stared at us cautiously and then smiled at Butterfly, who flashed one of her prizewinners back.

“What a sweet little girl you are. My granddaughter Donna has hair like you, although yours is a little more like spun gold. What's your name?” she asked quickly.

“Janet,” Butterfly said.

“Janet, you're going to be a beautiful lady someday. Just like my Marion. She could have been a movie star. Are you girls all by yourselves?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” Crystal said. She looked cautiously at me and I started for the car door.

“I missed my ride,” she said. “I got here too late and they left me behind.”

I paused and raised my eyebrows. Crystal did the same.

“Who left you behind?” Raven asked.

“Friends of my dead husband,” she said. “Once your husband dies, all his friends avoid you like the plague. Believe me,” she said, “when he was alive they were always around. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

“You were supposed to meet them in this parking lot and they left without you?” Crystal pursued like some lawyer cross-examining a witness.

“It's not the first time I've been left behind When you're a widow, you have to fend for your self more than you can imagine, girls. But you're all too young to worry about being widows. Old age isn't pleasant. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

Raven looked at me and then back at her.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh just down to Morrisville. Forty miles or so I'll have to walk to the bus station, I suppose,” she said.

“Where's that?” Crystal asked.

“I'm not sure. I think it's . . .” She turned and then turned back. “I'll have to ask inside.”

“Just a minute,” Crystal said. She pulled he-map out and spread it on the hood of the wagon “Morrisville. That's not out of our way, Brooke We'll drop you off, ma'am,” she said.

“Would you? Isn't that nice of you? That's so sweet. Most people are not so sweet to strangers anymore. Thank you, darling. Thank you.”

“You can sit in the back with us,” Butterfly told her and opened the door.

“Why thank you, Janet. See? I remembered your name. Janet. You remind me of my Donna. Did I tell you that?”

“Yes,” Butterfly said, smiling at her sweetly.

The elderly lady got in and Butterfly followed.

Raven seized Crystal at the elbow and pulled her back.

“She better not rob us,” she said sharply. Crystal smirked.

“I hardly think there's an analogy here, Raven.”

“A what? Why don't you speak English?” Raven complained.

Crystal laughed.

“That is English.” Crystal got in and Raven turned to me with a look of desperation.

“You have to carry a dictionary on you when you're with Crystal. I don't care what she says. It's like learning a new language.”

I laughed too, and we got into the wagon. We started out of the parking lot.

“My name is Theresa James,” the elderly lady said. “I've lived in Morrisville for nearly forty-one years. My husband Eugene was a shoe salesman. He used to say he peddled good soles and saved more than a minister.” She laughed. “Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

“How many children and grandchildren do you have?” Butterfly asked her.

“I have three children, a son Thomas Kincaid James, and two daughters, Marion and Jennie. Jennie's the most like me. She's a good cook. Marion doesn't cook. She has servants who do everything. She married well. Her husband builds boats, pleasure boats, and they live in a house that looks like a castle. It's near a lake, too. I spend a
part of my summer there and I see my grandchildren. Oh, I have five grandchildren, three boys and two girls Two boys are Thomas's. He has a daughter who just turned seven. Her name's Connie, but she has long dark hair, not curly gold hair like you, dear. She's a good speller. They're always sending me her spelling tests with A's on them and I put them all over the refrigerator. I have so many. I can hardly find the handle.” She laughed. “Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Crystal grimacing. I raised my eyebrows and she indicated there was a strange odor. After a moment I smelled it too. It smelled like charred wood and it was coming from Theresa James.

“My husband was a very good salesman. He never lost a sale. He could talk the last dime out of Rockefeller. They wanted to make him a vice president and give him an office, but he said, no sir, no thank you, I would rather be on the road, out there with the people. He loved being with people, talking, pressing flesh as he called it.”

“When did he die?” Butterfly asked.

“Oh. He died . . . let me see now. My goodness, it's almost ten years. It isn't easy being a widow. All my old friends look the other way when they see me.

“That's awful,” Raven said.

“Oh, I'm getting used to it, dear. Sometimes, I just pretend they're not there either. It's like we're all ghosts, you know. When you get old, you become a ghost. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

“I wouldn't let you be a ghost if you were my grandmother,” Butterfly said.

“Well isn't that sweet? I do believe you are the most adorable child I ever saw, even sweeter than my Donna who could bring a smile to the Grinch. Isn't that what he's called?” she followed quickly, “the Grinch?”

Butterfly laughed.

“When did you see her last?” she asked.

“Oh, let's see now. I think it was four months ago. No, I guess it was more like six or seven.”

“Don't they call you every day?” Crystal asked.

“Oh yes. My phone never stops ringing. The neighbors think I'm a bookie. You know what a bookie is, sweet light?” she asked Butterfly, who shook her head. “It's a man you call to place a bet on a horse. If you win, he has to pay you, but if you lose, you have to pay him. I have a brother who used to be a bookie. Now he's in an old-age home. I never get to see him.”

“Why not?” Raven asked. “Won't your son or daughters take you?”

“No, they don't like him. They never did. They don't want me to see him either. They say he's the black sheep of the family and he made my mother old before her time. Mothers can get old before their time if their children are bad. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

“Did you spend last Christmas with your grandchildren?” Butterfly asked.

“Oh sure. We all went to my daughter's big house and we had a very big tree with mountains of presents, and there was a turkey that could feed an army. I made a pumpkin pie and an apple pie and Jennie made a date and nut bread and some Yorkshire pudding. It was a big feast with music and the fireplace just roaring away like in those
Christmas cards, the ones that play a little tune when you open them. Oh sure, I spend all the holidays with my children and my grandchildren, birthdays and . . . birthdays.” She paused as if she had forgotten what she was saying, and then she found her way again.

“But for now I live alone in my little old house, paid for years ago by my husband who was the world's best shoe salesman. Did I tell you what he used to say? He said, I saved more good soles than a minister.” She laughed.

“Ain't that the truth?” Butterfly said.

Everyone smiled.

Theresa James laughed and then said, “Ain't it though?”

She talked almost the whole way to Morrisville. Raven kept swinging her eyes at me as if I could stop it or as if I were to blame. Finally, she turned on the radio and then began to sing along with a song.

“You have a beautiful voice, dear,” Theresa James said. “My Jennie has a nice voice, but not as nice as yours. You could sing on a street corner and collect money in a hat,” she added.

Raven smiled proudly.

“I'm going to sing on a stage and be paid a lot of money for it someday,” she declared.

“Oh, I'm sure you will. I'll come listen and I'll say I knew you when you were . . . when you were . . . I forgot what time I was supposed to be in the parking lot. Maybe I was early and not late,” she suddenly said. “I'd feel just horrible if they waited and waited for me and I had already left. Maybe I should have stayed there and not gone off with you. Oh dear. I'm not sure.”

No one said anything. I looked at Crystal in the mirror. She wound down her window to get some fresh air into the wagon and shook her head.

“Your children should take better care of you,” Raven said suddenly.

“Oh, ain't that the truth? Everyone tells me that. They say, why is it one mother can take care of three children but three children can't take care of one mother? Maybe mothers are harder to take care of, huh?”

“No,” Butterfly said. “They would be easy.”

“You're so sweet. Your name is Janet. I almost named my Jennie, Janet. We were looking for a name that began with J. My husband said, maybe Joyce or Joan and I said, no, it just came to me we should call her Jennie after my grandmother on my mother's side. He agreed even though he never met her. If he had, he would have sold her a pair of shoes.” She laughed and Butterfly joined her to say, “Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”

All of us were grateful when a sign indicated Morrisville was just a few more miles.

“Where do you live?” I asked Theresa. “We'll take you there.”

“That's very kind of you. Look how nice strangers can be,” she said to Butterfly. “Well now, I live in a very exclusive area. My husband thought it would always be a nice neighborhood and he said, let's invest in a home here. We'll never be sorry, and we never were. It's a lot of house for just a little old lady, you understand, but I am as used to those old walls as they are to me. I couldn't imagine living with my children. It's nice to visit, but remember what Ben Franklin said, ‘Guests and fish smell in three days.'” She laughed. This time
Crystal joined. “Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?”