Flyaway Page 12

  "I can sleep out here," I tell Mom, then I go change into flannel bottoms and a tank.

  But when I come back, she says she's fine with the couch. She slips off her jeans and crawls under the blanket. She tells me to turn out the light, and then, just like I'm hoping she will, she motions for me to join her. I prop myself against the other end of the couch so I can see her face. Our legs twine together underneath the blanket.

  She smiles at me and shakes her head. Even in the dim light from the hallway, I can see the sharp outline of her silhouette. "Kind of like old times, isn't it, baby?"

  I wiggle my toes against her. I wish I could stay like this forever, feeling the warmth of her legs against mine.

  "And you know those plans we were always making? Well, they're starting to come together. I've been talking to this guy about my jewelry business, and he's real excited about it. Wants to set me up with a website and everything."

  "Nice. Did you meet him at the rehab place?"

  She grunts. "You kidding ? One of those losers ? No, this was a guy I ran into on the bus."

  I get a sinking feeling. "But you must have met some cool people there."

  She reaches down and squeezes my calf. "Come on, baby, that's in the past. You know me. I'm all about the future."

  When Mom starts to doze off a while later, I slip out from under the blankets and pad down the hallway to the guest room, where I fall into a restless sleep. Tired as I am, I keep bolting awake with my heart pounding. Three times during the night, I tiptoe out to the living room to make sure Mom is still there.

  The fourth time I wake up to check, it's almost six in the morning. Birds have started singing outside the windows, and weak light filters in through the blinds. The heat hasn't cranked up yet, so I throw on my robe.

  Mom's still asleep, her dark curls splayed across the pillow. She must have gotten cold, because she's got an extra blanket thrown across her legs. When I move closer I see it's the blue-flowered blanket from my memory. As I cinch my robe at the waist and watch the gentle rise and fall of Mom's chest, I think back to the time long ago when we lived with Aunt Mindy in that little place in Helena, Montana. I remember peeking into the closet and seeing the blanket all folded up. I thought it was so pretty, and I always asked Mom if I could take it out, but she never let me.

  Then one day she did take it out of the closet, and she wrapped it around me. I know she did. But the memory is so dim I've always wondered if I made the whole thing up. Seeing Mom asleep under the blanket now, knowing she must have dragged it all the way to rehab and back, I decide I'm finally sure it really happened.

  Just like she did to me so long ago, I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Don't worry, Mom," I whisper. "I'll take care of you."

  ***

  Aunt Mindy says we can stay at her place a week or two until Mom gets back on her feet, but after a couple of days I can tell Mom's getting antsy. Aunt Mindy won't let her smoke in the house, so she spends most of her time out on the back deck, even when it rains, smoking and staring into space.

  "Did they let you smoke in rehab ?" I ask her late one afternoon, when streaks of pink color the gray sky and light up the jagged ridges of the Cascades. I keep asking about rehab, but she still hasn't told me much.

  She takes a drag off her cigarette and waves the smoke away with one hand. "If they tried to take my cigs away, I'd a been out of there in ten seconds flat."

  I plop down in the white plastic patio chair next to hers and let my eyes wander over her face, memorizing every line, every shadow.

  "What was it like there?"

  She shrugs. "You seen one prison, you seen them all."

  "But Aunt Mindy said—"

  She reaches over and pats my cheek. "Let it go, baby. I'm back, okay?" She stubs out her cigarette. "It's freezing out here. Let's go in and order up a pizza." She winks at me. "Mindy's buying; we might as well make it a large."

  On Saturday night Aunt Mindy invites Rick over for dinner. She says he's important in my life and that Mom should meet him, but I can't help wondering if she just wants to show him off and rub Mom's face in it.

  He's set to come over at seven. Mom sits outside and smokes while I polish the silverware and Aunt Mindy cooks. Every time Aunt Mindy turns her back, I stuff my face with potato chips to quiet the jumpiness in my belly. When Mom comes in, winks at me, and says, "Guess I'd better slip into something uncomfortable," I nearly finish off the bag.

  As soon as she struts out of the bedroom, I know there's going to be trouble. She's got on a top so low-cut you can see the head of the mermaid tattooed on her left boob. A pair of the beaded earrings she makes dangle from each ear, and I can smell her jasmine perfume a mile away. But what scares me most are her bare feet—"the sexiest part of a woman's body is her feet," she likes to say—and the look on her face when I let Rick in the front door. He's wearing white pants and a black shirt that shows off his muscles.

  "Mom, this is my tutor, Rick."

  She holds out her hand and turns on the knock-your-socks-off smile that shows off the dimple in her left cheek, the smile she saves for her customers with money. "June," she says.

  He takes hold of her fingertips, and for a second I think he's about to kiss her hand, but then he gives it a gentle shake. "Melinda's told me a lot about you."

  Mom's smile sours a bit. "Only nice things, I bet." She turns and calls into the kitchen. "Mindy, your boyfriend's here."

  Aunt Mindy rushes into the living room wearing an oven mitt. Her face is pink, and a wispy curl sticks to her forehead. "Hi, Rick. I'm almost done in there. Make yourself at home." She takes one look at Mom and turns even pinker. "June, could you help me for a minute?"

  "But I'm entertaining our guest."

  "June..."

  "All right, already, I'm coming." She stalks after Aunt Mindy.

  Rick clears his throat. "You must be happy your mom is back."

  "Yeah," I say, but I'm straining to hear what's going on in the kitchen. Finally the two of them come out, Mom carrying glasses and cradling a bottle of wine under her arm and Aunt Mindy balancing a platter of veggies and dip on one hand. They're both scowling.

  Rick jumps to his feet. "Here, let me help you with that." He takes the tray from Aunt Mindy, sets it on the coffee table, and gives her a peck on the cheek.

  "Who wants wine?" Mom asks. She sets the glasses down next to the veggie tray. "I know I could use some." She fills one of the glasses and takes a big swallow. Then she shoots Aunt Mindy a dirty look, fills a second wineglass, and holds it out to her. "Bet you could use a drink, too." Aunt Mindy snatches the glass and heads back into the kitchen.

  Next Mom turns to Rick, who's gone back to his seat on the couch, and gives him that smile again. "And I know you're going to need one." She keeps her eyes locked on his while she fills the glass. When she hands it to him, she leans over so far that I can see the mermaid's tail from where I'm standing. If I were that mermaid, I'd swim the hell out of here.

  Then she pours a fourth glass of wine and hands it to me. "And one for you, baby."

  Aunt Mindy comes out of the kitchen, spots my glass, and plants her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "I think she's old enough to have a little wine."

  "She's only fifteen, June."

  "You think I don't know how old my own daughter is?" She nods at me. "Go ahead and drink it, honey pie."

  Rick gets up and nabs the glass from me. "I have to agree with Melinda. Stevie is underage."

  That shuts Mom up for a few minutes, but then it's the same thing all through dinner. Mom snags the seat right next to Rick and keeps leaning in and showing off her mermaid while Aunt Mindy fumes at the head of the table. I'm scared to peek underneath. Mom's probably trying to play footsie with him, too.

  Finally we make it to dessert. It's Aunt Mindy's chocolate mousse, which is heaven on a spoon. Rick tastes it, closes his eyes, and says, "Melinda, you've outdone yourself."

  Mom licks her spoon and s
ays, "Mmm. Better than sex." Then she winks at Rick. "Well, almost."

  I set down my spoon. Maybe it's those chips I ate earlier, but I'm not really hungry anymore.

  Aunt Mindy pushes her chair away from the table. "Okay, June, that's it. I'm not going to sit here and be made a fool of."

  "Oh, come on. I'm just trying to lighten things up."

  "You can go spread your sunshine somewhere else. I want you out of here by tomorrow morning."

  Rick glances at me. "Melinda, let's give it some—"

  "If anyone wants me, I'll be in my room," she says, and then heads down the hallway.

  Rick puts his hand on my arm. "Let me talk to her." Then he goes after her.

  That leaves me and Mom at the table. She scoops up another spoonful of mousse. "This stuff is to die for. And so is your tutor, by the way."

  "I told you, he's going out with Aunt Mindy."

  "That won't last." She laughs and cups her hands under her boobs. "He needs a woman who's got a little meat on her."

  "Mom, don't. They're happy."

  The second it's out of my mouth, I wish I could take it back. Mom slams down her spoon. "Well, isn't that nice. Of course we want Mindy to be happy. She's skinny, she's swimming in dough, but that's not enough. Oh, no. We've got to make sure she's happy, too."

  "She's not 'swimming in dough,' Mom. And she works really hard."

  "Oh, so now you're defending her?"

  "No, I just—"

  "She's always been on my case to hand you over; well, maybe I should. Maybe I should let you stay here so she can jump for friggin' joy."

  "I don't want to stay here."

  She pushes her chair away from the table and stands. "She thinks she's doing me a big favor, letting me sleep on her precious couch. Well, I've got other places I can stay." She heads for the living room. "You want to stay here and play Happy Family with Mindy, fine."

  I run after her and throw my arms around her waist. "I want to be with you!"

  I feel her hand in my hair. "Hush, baby. Calm down. You really want to come with me, huh?"

  "Yes." Maybe if I can get her out of here, away from Aunt Mindy, things will be better.

  "And you won't go talking to Mindy behind my back again?"

  "No. I promise."

  She peels my arms from around her waist. "Go to bed, then. I got to make a few calls. We'll talk in the morning."

  I lie awake half the night, listening to Mom and Aunt Mindy argue in the living room. Finally I pull the pillow over my head, close my eyes, and try to find the dream about the blue-flowered blanket. But tonight the dream won't come.

  CHAPTER 17

  In the morning Mom tells me we're moving out. Her friend Tina has an extra room in the basement, and I can sleep in her living room. I'm already packed, so I sit on the bed and wait while Mom takes a shower.

  Sun streams through the window, blazing a rectangle onto the bedspread. I set my hand in the rectangle and let it lie there, like a lizard on a rock, soaking up the warmth. I stare out at the view of the mountains and breathe in the vanilla scent of the candle by the bed.

  There's a knock at the door; Aunt Mindy pokes her head in. "Can I come in for a second?"

  "I guess."

  She sits beside me on the bed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

  I shrug.

  "I'm sorry about all that business last night. I hope you know it had nothing to do with you." She takes my hand, the one warm from the sun. "You don't have to leave, you know. You're more than welcome to stay with me."

  "I want to be with Mom."

  She looks at me for a long time. Then she looks away. "I understand. But I want you to know I'm here, anytime you need me." She puts her arms around me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from bawling. I don't know what's wrong with me; I've been waiting all summer for the chance to get away from her.

  Then Mom calls from the bathroom: "I'll be ready in five minutes. You got some change for the bus?"

  Aunt Mindy presses something into my hand. "Just in case," she says. Then her face crinkles up, and she rushes out of the room.

  I open my hand and see a hundred-dollar bill.

  Tina's house is on a side street, right off Aurora and Northgate Way, not too far from where I found the crow. She's got two other roommates: Dave, a skinny guy with a straggly blond ponytail, and a fat chick named Cory. Tina's not fat or skinny, but her skin is dark with light patches on it, like a tan that's peeling off.

  I'm not used to living with so many people. There are sounds all the time: doors opening and closing, pots and pans clanging, toilets flushing. There are strange smells too. Dave is always making stir-fry with broccoli and garlic, and Cory stinks up the bathroom. Plus the house isn't that clean. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling, ants roam the kitchen counter, and a huge spider has set up shop in one corner of the shower. I'm hoping Mom's still got those business deals cooking, because it feels like our NTD House is fading into the jar-distant future.

  I sleep on a futon on the living room floor. People wander in and out, which means I have to keep my stuff with Mom's in the basement and change down there. The only safe place to stow my heart-shaped box, with the hundred-dollar bill inside, is under Mom's bed.

  I stick to Mom like the spider to its web. I'd even follow her into the bathroom if she'd let me. Sometimes she gets ticked and says, "Give me a little space, would you?" I was kind of hoping she'd find another place to work, but she seems happy to get back to her job at the nightclub. Tina works there too, so most nights they take off together in Tina's rusty Dodge Dart.

  Me, I don't go anywhere. When Mom's awake I'm with her, when she's at the club I hang out on the futon and work on my drawings. I still jump if the phone rings and count the hours every time she leaves the house. She makes me promise again to stay away from Aunt Mindy, says we don't need her screwing things up just when we're getting them back together. Rick offers to come to the house to tutor me, but I can't stand the thought of him smelling Dave's stir-fry or seeing Cory's Tampax wrappers in the bathroom wastebasket. And even though I miss working at On the Wing, I call Valerie and tell her I need to take a break. Right now being with Mom is the only thing that matters.

  One afternoon about three weeks after we move in, I let down my guard. It's near the end of July, and fall's on the way: The leaves are turning yellow, and people on the street stroll by in jeans and sweatshirts instead of shorts. Mom's asleep in the basement, and I figure it won't hurt if I go out, just for a little while.

  My plan is to grab myself a Coke at the convenience store on Aurora and then head right back. The breeze has a bite to it, so I walk fast, keeping my eyes on the ground.

  The beep, beep, beep of the bus across the street lowering its wheelchair ramp makes me look up. Pictures of kids in knit sweaters, lugging stacks of books, smile at me from the side of the bus. Macy's Back to School Blowout, the giant ad says.

  I hug myselftight; goose bumps cover my arms. I've hardly thought about school at all since I left Aunt Mindy's. Mom hasn't asked me about it either. In fact, now that I think of it, she hasn't asked me about anything.

  Aunt Mindy was always full of questions: When are you going to talk to your counselor again? What are your plans for next year? What about college? I picture her in her purple workout gear, leaning against the kitchen counter with that intense look she gets, telling me I need to start thinking about the future before it leaves me behind.

  A hole opens up inside me that only seeing Aunt Mindy can fill. I hate to admit it, but I miss the smell of her coffee, her stupid notes. I even miss her nagging. So when the number 75 bus rumbles past, I scrap my plan to get a Coke and race to catch it. I've never taken it before, but I'm pretty sure it goes through Wedgewood.

  "Wait up!" I yell. I wave my arms, but the driver doesn't see me. I make it to the bus stop, pissed and out of breath, just as he's pulling away.

  I've made up my mind to head back to Tina's when a silver Honda that looks just like Valerie's d
rives up next to me.

  "Need a ride ?"

  The second I hear Alan's voice, my heart goes into overdrive. It's been at least a month since the day I ran away from him, and I was sure he'd written me off by now. I haven't written him off, though. Actually, he's been on my mind a lot lately. I wonder if he keeps going over that day in the aviary the way I do.

  "You want a lift or what ?" he says.

  "Sure." I tug open the passenger door and climb in.

  "So, where you headed?" Alan asks.

  "My aunt's house. In Wedgewood, right off Seventy-fifth."

  "I'm doing a few errands for Valerie, but they're no big deal. I can run you over there."

  He pulls into traffic, and we don't say anything for a few minutes. While he drives, I study his profile. It's weird how all the things I used to hate about him—the way his dark hair falls into his eyes, his army jacket, even his stupid sunglasses—are making my insides go into serious meltdown.

  "Sorry I haven't been around in a while," I say.

  He hangs a left on 80th. "Yeah, what's up with that?"

  "Well, for one thing, my mom came back."

  "Cool." He reaches for the dashboard like he's about to turn on the radio. If I don't say it now, I never will.

  "But I guess the main thing is, I was nervous about seeing you again."

  He puts his hand back on the wheel and stares straight ahead.

  "Well, aren't you going to say anything?" I ask.

  "What do you want me to say? You're the one that took off."

  "I can explain—"

  "You don't have to explain anything. I got the message loud and clear."

  His voice has that clamped-down sound that makes me want to get out of the car and forget the whole thing. But I'm not going to do that. Not this time.

  "No, you don't get it. I didn't take off because of you. There was this other guy, sort of, and I wasn't sure ... But that's over now."

  "Whatever."