The Flying Troutmans (18 page)

You know? I said. He was quiet. Hey, I said. What…are you crying?

He ignored me and kept working on the wiper. The T-shirt wouldn't stop slipping off the blade and semis were spraying water all over us as they passed and the earth shook every time. Logan stopped fiddling around with the wiper and turned to look at me.

This is so messed up, he said. He
was
crying.

I put my arms around him and told him things would be okay, we'd figure it out, Min would get better, but he
just shook his head and said he didn't know. Thebes was looking at us through the window.

Let's go over here, I said, and took Logan's hand and led him through the ditch and up onto the other side and through a hole in an electric fence into an empty field. We sat on a rock in the rain and he cried and I tried to think of something to say that would comfort him, something true.

I know it wasn't my mom's idea for us to find Cherkis, said Logan. I've known that all along.

Yeah? I said. Okay. You're right, it wasn't. It was my idea and I'm really sorry for lying to you. I really am. I thought this was the best thing to do. The only thing I could think of was finding Cherkis and asking him to take care of you guys so at least…I don't know. It was probably a stupid idea but I was desperate.

I don't know either, said Logan. It's messed up.

Yeah, it is, I said. Right now it is, but it won't always be.

I kind of think it always will be, said Logan.

Yeah, I know, I said. It seems that way, but—

No, it really is that way, he said. He was crying hard, trying to talk. Even when she gets better, he said, it's for like three days or maybe a week and then it's over, she gives up, it's just so…I think Thebes and I are on our own.

No, no, I said. You're not on—

Yeah, said Logan, we are. I don't know how to take care of a kid, but she's my sister, so…that's that. I can get a job somewhere, I think. I'll be sixteen in a month.

I know, I said, but…that's not…You're not on your own.

Hat, I'm not stupid, said Logan. You can go back to Paris, or wherever, you don't have to take care of us. I've got it.

Let's go back to the van, I said. C'mon. I pulled him up off the rock and he smiled and said I had a pretty decent grip. Let's get out of here, I said.

But the van wasn't there, and the fog was so thick I could barely see Logan's face. Jesus Christ, I said. Oh god. Oh man. What the…why…?

Did you leave the keys in the van? asked Logan.

I was kneeling on the side of the highway, holding onto my head like a prisoner of war.

Thebes! Logan yelled her name once and then again and then he started running down the highway and quickly disappeared in the fog.

A minute later I saw the van reversing towards me. It stopped and Logan jumped out and ran around to where I was sitting and helped me up. He opened up the passenger side door and shoved me in. Thebes was sitting in the back seat with her arm around the dog.

Good one, eh? she said. No? Who knew I could drive?

 

Min and I were kids. Our parents had rented a cottage at some lake. There was a long dock and Min ran the length of it and leaped into the water and disappeared. My parents and I stood on the dock screaming her name. My father jumped into the water but couldn't find her and our mother ran to the cottage to phone the search and rescue. Twenty minutes later Min poked her head out from under
the dock. There'd been six inches or so of space between the wooden planks and the water and she'd hid there listening to us go crazy looking for her. She didn't get it. She couldn't understand how or why we'd be angry because damn it, it was so funny, so smooth.

That night she and I lay in our bunk beds and I asked her if she wouldn't have panicked if it had been me hiding under the dock and she didn't know where I was because the last thing she'd seen of me was me jumping into the water, and she said yeah, she would have panicked. She told me there was only one person in the world she loved and that person was me.

 

The rain had stopped and the fog had lifted. Min, I said to myself, we're here. Do we keep going? I didn't know what else to say. I tried to remember the Uncertainty Principle but couldn't. I waited for her to answer. I told myself that if in ten seconds I looked out the window and happened to see water, I would know that Min had answered. No, I thought, I'm going to change that to a tree. We were in a really dry part of the United States. No, I thought, actually we're in a desert, I'm going to change it to a cactus. No, wait, a bird. I counted to ten. I looked out the window and thought for sure, definitely, I had just seen some type of flying creature. Yes, I had. It was a giant circling vulture and he had many friends and they were closing in on the shredded carcass of half a cow. Still. I would consider the vulture to be Min's answer. I didn't know what dark meaning it held, but maybe, hopefully, none.

When Logan was a little kid he would run away from home. He'd go outside and hide behind the giant elm in their front yard. Sometimes he'd stand there for hours, waiting to be found.

One time Min and the kids and I were having lunch in a restaurant. Thebes was in a high chair having a fit over something and Min and I were trying to get her to calm down. When she finally did, Logan was gone. He'd left a note, spelled out in square letters along the edge of a round coaster. I have run away for the 3 time, it said. We ran out of the restaurant and found him halfway down the block watching a busker perform magic tricks. I still have the coaster somewhere. I should give it to Min, or Logan. It was a coaster advertising some coffee with the words “Select Discoveries” in the centre.

 

Let's stop for gas, I said. Thebes was in the back, building something, quietly singing a Smokey Robinson tune, “I Second That Emotion,” and the dog was asleep on the floor. The water in the cooler sloshed around so much that if we didn't have music playing it sounded like we were in a small fishing boat on a slightly choppy lake. I imagine that it's the boat in Logan's dream, the one that we're all in, out at sea, and my father pops up from the water with his glasses on and says how happy he is to see us.

Logan careened into the parking lot of the gas station, filled the van up and then dribbled his basketball
around for a while. Thebes zipped into the washroom and I could hear her singing in there while I stood and paid at the counter. Kid's happy, said the clerk. She came out and I bought her an Archie comic, and when we were walking back to the van I asked her what she was thinking about.

I don't know, she said.

C'mon, you do so, I said.

I'm just wondering if Cherkis is going to like me, she said.

Heads up, T., said Logan. Thebes rammed her Archie into her mouth to free up her hands and caught the ball like a pro and fired it right back at him. The side door on the van was open and Rajbeer leapt out all caught up in the excitement of the game and then one of the gas station employees came out and asked us please to put that pit bull away and also no playing in the parking lot, because they get a lot of tour buses full of seniors who enjoy serenity when they disembark.

 

While Logan drove, I put my feet on the dash. The world whipped past us. You should slow down a bit, I told Logan. Thebes lay down in the back and said she wanted to think about things for a while but if something earth-shattering happened we should let her know. Then she said all right, she was finished thinking about things and she started reading us stuff about Kingman from an Arizona travel book she'd picked up along the way.

Did you know, she said, that Kingman is the site of BLEVE. The Boiling Liquid Expanding Vapour Explosion?

No, neither Logan or I were aware of that.

Firefighters from around the world study it, said Thebes. And did you know, she said, that Pamela Anderson did one of her
Playboy
photo shoots at the corner of Fourth Street and Andy Devine Avenue and was brought into the Kingman Police Department for indecent exposure?

Really? said Logan.

No, I didn't know that either, I said.

She wasn't charged, said Thebes, but she was asked to write a letter of apology.

Yeah, they must have been really mad, said Logan. Are there photos in that book?

No, said Thebes, only maps.

Did the Pamela Lee Anderson thing coincide with the expanding liquid explosion thing? he asked.

It doesn't say, said Thebes. I don't think so.

There was something about Thebes not twigging to Logan's dirty joking that made me want to cry, made me think of Min and me as kids and made me want to travel backwards but not exactly back to where we'd come from.

And did you know, she said, that Kingman is called the Heart of Historic Route 66? The longest original stretch of Route 66 runs right through downtown Kingman. It's called the Mother Road. Thebes liked that. The Mother Road. But she didn't know what Route 66 was. Neither did Logan, really.

Don't you guys know the song? I asked them. You know, “Get your kicks on Route 66…”?

Drawing a blank, said Logan.

Kicks? said Thebes, do you mean, like, shoes?

 

fifteen

WE WERE SITTING IN A NAUGAHYDE BOOTH
in a restaurant in Kingman. I ordered a large pot of coffee for myself and the kids played Hangman while we waited for our food. Our waitress told us this was her last shift because later that day she was going to get on a plane for the very first time and fly all the way over to North Carolina to hook up with a guy she'd met online.
Her friends had all told her she was crazy to do it but she didn't care, she hadn't even purchased cancellation insurance for the flight. She'd given up her apartment.

So, then, do you think you'll stay there forever? I asked her.

If all goes according to plan, yeah, she said.

And this'll be the first time you meet him in person? I asked.

Yeah, she said. Do you want to see a picture of him? She took a tiny photo out of her apron pocket and handed it to me.

Oh, he's really cute, I said. And he seems nice? I passed the photo to Logan, who didn't look at it, just passed it to Thebes, who stared at it.

Oh, yeah! said the waitress. Real nice. I'm so excited I keep spilling things, I'm sorry.

Hey, no problem, I said. It's understandable. I hope it all works out.

Yeah, thanks, she said. It just…really has to this time.

Thebes handed the waitress her photo. What do you mean
this
time? she said. What happened last time? Do you want to sit down?

Logan astrally projected himself out of there and I gave Thebes a tiny kick under the table.

No, said the waitress, thanks, but I have to keep working.

Yeah, but, said Thebes, why didn't your last relationship work out?

Oh, you know, said the waitress.

No, said Thebes.

Oh, well, you know, she said, there were certain things that he wanted that I just couldn't give him.

The waitress looked at me and asked me if she could tell Thebes something straight up.

Yeah, of course, I said. I was waiting for the worst type of confession, something that would send Thebes racing to her dictionary to look up fist-fucking or dirty sanchez.

He really wanted a baby, she said.

And you didn't? said Thebes.

No, she said, I really did too, but my Fallopian tubes were scarred from an abortion I had when I was eighteen and now I can't get pregnant.

Oh, I said, that's too bad, I'm sorry.

Yeah, that blows, said Thebes.

Yeah, said the waitress. But, so, now, this new guy? He doesn't care about babies. He doesn't want them. He just wants me.

Oh, that's so sweet, I said. You're lucky. Sounds like he's—

Yeah, but, said Thebes, so what happens if you do, somehow, end up getting pregnant with this new guy and then you have this baby and the new guy still doesn't want one?

Thebes, I said. That's not—

Yeah, no, said the waitress. She was smiling. I won't get pregnant, she said. I don't have a uterus any more.

What! said Thebes. Why not?

Logan had by now asphyxiated himself with his hood.
The waitress told us about her hysterectomy and then said she had to go, she was getting dirty looks from her boss.

Yeah, but, said Thebes, he's only gonna be your boss for five more minutes or something, who cares? Let's talk. She slapped her hands down on the table, palms up, like,
go ahead, fill me up with your stories of reckless gynecology,
and I caught a glimpse of the faint, so-called meaningless scratches on the inside of her wrists.

No, the waitress had to go. I said good luck in North Carolina. Thebes got up and gave her a hug and told her to keep it real. Keep it strong. She hoped the guy turned out to be as sweet as he looked in his photo and would never want to have a baby.

 

I decided to call Marc. I'd been trying in countless futile ways to disengage, to detach and drift away from him, from thoughts of him, but I was having moments, like this one now, where he managed to slip back in and wrap himself around my brain and there was nothing I could do about it. I thought I loved him. I think I did love him. I wanted him to love me, I knew that. But that may not be the definition of love, wanting someone else to love you and
then
deciding whether you love them back. Logan and Thebes were racing backwards in the ditch. They had let Rajbeer out of the steaming hot van and tied him up to the bumper so he could lie in the shade. Seniors were roaming around the parking lot in slow-moving packs, propping each other up and taking tiny, tiny steps like they were walking on tightropes.

Marc?

Yeah. Hey…hey! How are you? Wow!

Fine. How are you?

I've been trying to reach you, he said.

What? Oh! You mean telepathically?

Yeah!

Really? I didn't…

You didn't sense it?

Um, not really, I don't think so…What were you saying?

I was saying I really miss you, you know?

Really? No, I…no, I wasn't getting that at all…but, really? You do?

Yeah.

Well, and…hmm…

Are you at your sister's? he asked.

No, I'm in Arizona, I said.

Why?

Because it's on the way to California.

An old man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I'd be much longer on the phone. I shook my head and held up two fingers. The man nodded but didn't move.

Are you going to California? said Marc.

Yes, yeah, sort of…I miss you too. I smiled at the old guy and he patted my shoulder and smiled back at me again, a little sadly, maybe with some turn-of-the-century memory he couldn't shake, like of a World War I candystriper. Or maybe he just really wanted to use the phone.

What are you doing in California? asked Marc.

The old guy puckered his lips and blew me a kiss and
nodded knowingly and pointed at the phone. I smiled again and shook my head.

Oh, nothing, I said. Well, some things. Just…checking it out. Mining for gold. What are you doing?

So Marc's new relationship had worked out and then it had stopped working out and now he wanted me back. He wanted me to return to Paris and we'd start fresh, with less weirdness and more honesty. This was the perfect opportunity for a homeless woman with low self-esteem and mild addiction issues. He did tell me he loved me and I told him that I appreciated that, as though he had offered to carry my grocery bags out to the car. He asked me if I loved him too, and I told him I didn't really know. I wanted to say yes but I wasn't sure. He considered that for a few seconds and then he asked me if I thought that maybe, in time, I would love him again, because hadn't I loved him once and wasn't that proof that it could reoccur. I told him I wasn't sure that he was the one I was supposed to be loving at the moment and he said that love didn't work that way, we didn't choose who to love or when to love. I told him he was probably right, ninety-nine per cent. We left it at that, more or less. He asked me to call him again when I got a chance and I told him I'd try to. He asked me what I wanted him to do with all my psychology textbooks if I decided I wasn't coming back. Well, you could read them, I told him. Or give them away. I didn't care. I was planning to develop my own form of psychotherapy, like Freud or Jung. Marc was skeptical. He reminded me that I had no formal training in the field of psychiatry. I know, I said. That's
true. I told him I was planning to save my sister's life, but that I needed a bit more time to figure out just how. Is she dying? he asked me. Yes, I said. He said he was very sorry but that I was sounding a little crazy and should probably leave her care in the hands of medical professionals. I know, I said, that's a very rational and time-proven theory, but I don't think it's going to work this time.

 

We were driving out of Kingman and Logan saw an ancient basketball court next to a bombed-out school. We stopped so he could shoot hoops for fifteen minutes and I could smoke a cigarette outside the van, new Theban rule. We let Rajbeer run around. Thebes and I took turns pushing each other around in circles on one of those old-timey, spinny wooden things. I sat cross-legged in the centre, smoking, feeling nauseous, but also, in spite of spinning around in circles, quite focused. Thebes ran faster and faster until she was practically horizontal, and then she flung herself on and sat next to me while we spun around and around and around and then slowly, slowly, came to a stop. After that we walked over to the court and I lay in the grass next to it and Thebes stood on the sidelines coaching Logan.

Get open, Troutman! she yelled. Box out! Baseline! Arms up! Arms
up!
Do I have to get down on my knees and pray? Who's your man!

Logan was trying not to laugh.

Keep your head in the game! Stay with your man! Christ! Do I have to get out my dictionary and show you
the definition of
open?
Who do you have, Troutman, who do you have?

Logan stopped shooting and came over to where Thebes and I were standing.

What do you think about when you shoot? I asked him.

Nothing, he said.

Oh, really? I said. You just concentrate entirely on shooting?

Yeah, I guess, he said.

Do you worry that the ball won't go in? I asked him.

No, he said, I always believe that it will. Every time.

Seriously? I said. Even when you've missed a bunch of shots?

Yeah, I think it's gonna go in every time, he said.

And then, so, when it doesn't go in do you feel all disillusioned? I asked him.

No, not at all, he said, 'cause I'm always sure the next one will go in.

 

From Kingman we dipped down, straight south, and drove through a town called Needles, childhood home of Charles M. Schulz and a pit stop for the Joad Family in
The Grapes of Wrath.
We kept on driving and then dropped farther south to a narrow, virtually empty road through the desert that would take us right into Twentynine Palms. It was over a hundred degrees, even with the sun going down, the AC was on full blast, the highway was shimmering and the shadows were rippling like waves. Tiny rodents
ran back and forth along the highway and I tried really hard not to hit them.

The kids were yawning and falling asleep, the dog had been fed and was quiet and staring out the back window, the boy's head was back on the dash—Thebes had made him a hat, too, a pirate hat—the cooler had been restocked with ice, and it really was getting late.

 

Our family once went on a road trip and my father drove two hundred miles in the wrong direction. The moment of realization, for him, was a low point in the holiday. I had seen him defeated on many occasions but this was the major leagues. Min and I, for some reason, not because we enjoyed seeing our father suffer, not at all, but because it didn't really matter to us where we were going, thought it was the funniest thing that could ever have happened. While our dad stared at the map in disbelief, our mother took us aside and said okay, girls, I know you're going to want to laugh until you throw up, but let's all try to think about how Dad feels and keep a lid on it. If you can't help yourselves, please pretend that you're laughing at something else. So for two hours Min and I pretended we were laughing at un funny things like clouds and trees and fences until finally our father said to our mother, are those two complete morons or what?

Is that supposed to be a story? asked Thebes.

Well, I don't know, I said. What did you want? I panic when you ask for a story.

Okay, said Logan, was that last part supposed to be
like a joke? Because if it was, we'd need more information, just a tiny bit, like about how Grandpa, said it, what he was implying, you know what I mean?

Okay, I said, yeah, by asking if Min and I were morons, Grandpa was making fun of himself for having driven in the wrong direction for so long. He was acknowledging that he had been the moron and that now it could all be funny and we could all just relax. That is what I was trying to convey. And that it was sweet of him to let us off the hook like that.

Okay, said Logan, then cool. I think it kind of works.

God, I feel like I'm defending my Ph.D. thesis, I said.

Did you even finish your B.A.? asked Thebes.

I smiled and told her to shut up.

I had this dream, she said. I was talking to Min on the phone but while I was talking to her I could hear this other person talking about something totally different at the same time, and then I figured out that the other person was also me, but I didn't really like that me. And then I decided to take the bus to the hospital and see Min but when I got there my other self was already there.

Logan and I were quiet for a few seconds.

Thebes, said Logan, you should stop using hair dye. That shit can seep into the brain.

A tube of LePage's glue flew around the van for a while, front to the back, front to the back. Rajbeer threw up a ball of duct tape and a marker cap.

After a few minutes Thebes said she had a problem. She said she didn't know, now, if she really wanted to see Cherkis after all. It was making her too nervous. She didn't
know how she felt. She was confused. She said we'd come all this way and now she was wondering if it might be okay if she didn't see him and was I mad. I told her I wasn't mad and that she could see him or not see him, it was her choice. She could do exactly as she pleased.

Whatever you want, Thebie, I said. You don't have to decide right now.

 

We got to Twentynine Palms in the middle of the night and checked into a motel. Thebes had fallen asleep in the van and wouldn't wake up, so Logan and I carried her in, he took her legs, I took her arms, like we were going to count to three and throw her into the pool. We had to sneak Rajbeer in too, under the sign that said No Pets or Parties Allowed.

Logan and I sat at the table in the room in the dark and smoked a joint while Thebes and Rajbeer slept.

So what if he's not actually here? said Logan.

I don't know, I said.

We both started to laugh, quietly. Then we stopped, and then we started again.