Part 17 (2/2)

She turned around. ”Stew? You OK? You look like you've been into the hootch pretty good tonight.”

He burped like he meant to and smacked his hand over his mouth when he looked at me. ”Excuse me, Miss,” and smiled. ”Yeah, I got bread. I think I got rye! Make her a corned beef on rye-hey, that's a d.a.m.n good idea,” and he slapped his burp hand onto the counter. ”Yeah, make me one too. A corned beef ... on rye. I'd like that.” He looked at me again and clapped his hands together. ”Yessirreee!”

Mum winked at me. ”OK, you two kids go sit in the living room and I'll make sandwiches. Stewart, leave your drink here and I'll freshen it.”

Stewart and I sat on the couch in front of a hockey game. He looked from me to the TV. ”Y' like hockey?-naw, you don't like hockey; this is no fun for you, geez. Let's take a look-see in the old b.o.o.b-tube guide here, and see. See, see, see ... hmm ... hey, there's a Get Smart rerun on. D'ya like that? I like that guy.” He held his thumb and finger close and said, ”Missed it by that much.”

I laughed even though it wasn't that good an imitation and looked at the TV. Mum brought in sandwiches and tea a few minutes later. Stewart looked in the teacup she gave him and said, ”Tea? Tea. Where's my-” and he looked over at me.

Mum said to him, like he was my little sister or something, ”Oh, sorry, honey, did I forget milk and sugar?”

Stewart looked all pouty in his cup and then tried to act natural just like as if another kid punched him and he didn't want to go crying in front of everybody. He was super-like-that-like a big dumb kid, especially with his slow goofy voice-he said, ”Huh, ohh, no, I'm-I like it black. Yeah, this is nice.” As if.

Then we started eating our sandwiches. They were pretty good for scrounging-in-the-cupboard sandwiches-corned beef tastes way better than it sounds. It sounds like it'd have sloppy corn all over it and taste sick. Sometimes the worst thing about stuff is its name. I started thinking that about Stewart while I was eating-stew and then wart. Then I felt sorry for him, sort of, even though I still didn't want to hang around with him or anything; he kept sighing between bites of sandwich and wiping mustard off his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he noticed the big smeary glob of mustard on him and starting looking around the room like he got punched again. Mum grabbed a paper towel and put spit on it and wiped his hand. He smiled with his stuffed mouth closed, and sighed through his nose. You'd think it was the hardest thing he ever had to do, eat a corned beef sandwich. He took a sip of his tea and winced-up his face like he was sucking lemon. Then he said, ”This is good, Eilleen, I think, though-I'm, uh-I'm just going to have a nap. And have this rest later. Okey-doke?”

I must have had ESP for a second cuz I was right then thinking he needed a nap time. He got up and b.u.mped into the wall on his way to the bedroom. It wasn't even that funny, really. It was how Mum was a lot of times when she used to come home from being out with him. And then I felt sick cuz of suddenly remembering Mrs. Hood hating my guts and probably sending the police out looking for me. And Todd Baker would hate me too, and they'd be looking for me in police cars and stuff and we couldn't go to any of our normal places or they'd find us. Stewart's was our only secret place.

I think Mum got ESP then too-she picked up the phone and put it in her lap. Mrs. Hood-she was reading my mind and she wanted to call Mrs. Hood and I'd have to tell her the number or she'd hate my guts too. I looked at my last hunk of sandwich and ate it. Chew each bite twenty times-I kept thinking that in my head, over and over-chew each bite twenty times, twenty times, twenty times. Mrs. Hood told me that once after I got another stomach ache.

Mum reached over and flipped my hair behind my ear. Her hands smelled all clean and like bread. ”I think I better call and let Mrs. Hood know you're all right.”

Fifteen chews, sixteen, seventeen-my mouthful was like goo, so I just swallowed before twenty. Except my teeth kept clacking together looking for stuff and biting inside on my cheeks. What if Mum went like a tornado and yelled and screamed at Mrs. Hood, and screamed and yelled and swore, and then they traced the call? And stupid Wendy would say I told you so-and the lion will lay down with the lamb. You can't have a tiger for a pet.

I squeezed everything tight, my toes and teeth and armpits and b.u.m, until it hurt as much as possible, and then I let go. Mum said, ”Would you feel better if I let you dial?” No. Nope. And the lion will lie down with the lamb. ”OK, how about if you tell me the number, and I'll dial.” No. No way. You can't have a tiger for a pet. Mum touched my cheek again and I jumped. Her hand jumped back a little and she came in close and put her arm around me. ”It's OK, honey, I just want to let her know you're OK, that's all. She's probably worried.”

”No, she won't care. Let's just go.”

”Go where? Sweety, listen, we have to call and come clean so they don't think you've been kidnapped or something.”

”Yeah. Yah. 'K.”

”Do you know the number?” She was talking to me like I was even younger than Stewart.

”Yeah.” Just say it, and the lion will lay down with the lamb. And Jesus will take back the keys to the world. ”OK. It's eight-seven-six.” Their numbers-You cannot give out this number! Numbers, Deuteronomy and Matthew and Joshua. I missed Josh. Why couldn't we've just stayed with Josh? ”I can't re-I'm not allowed,” and my plate has to go in the sink. I got up and went in the kitchen and sat on the floor behind the counter. I forgot my plate. Just rest for a while. Like nap time when you're little. What will happen to little children at Armageddon?

Mum came in the kitchen with the phone and a long snake-cord dragging behind. She sat down on the floor beside me, then she put the phone beside her and held my hand and kissed it. She said, ”I just don't want her to worry.”

”I'm not allowed.”

”I know. But you're with me now, you're safe.”

”Yeah. Don't tell, 'K? OK. Eight-seven-six. Um-” Mum looked at me like I was the best thing in the whole world. ”Eight-seven-six, five-three-seven-four.”

She started dialling. I watched the circle of the dial float back around after each number. Then, ”h.e.l.lo!” Loud, too loud. ”Is that Mrs. Hood? ... Hi, this is Eilleen Hoffman.” And quiet. Then, ”Oh yes. I, well, Grace dialled the number so I could let you know that she's here with me and you wouldn't worry.” My chest went tight when she said my name. I turned my back away and put my forehead on my knees, squished my eyeb.a.l.l.s hard. Then Mum said, ”Pardon? No, I'm not-she's fine, she was just a little homesick and wanted to stay with her mum for a while and I wanted you to know.” Then there was a big pause and Mum took a breath like she got punched too, and she stuttered all flabbergasted and went, ”Wha-just a second here, a child like what?-Grace is not a child like anything-she's terrific, she's here because I want her here, because I love her, and as a matter of fact, I told her to come home ... No, listen, I don't appreciate your tone or what you're saying or, furthermore, what you've put my child through. Grace is what keeps me alive. You may believe in death, but I happen to believe in life!” And then she said ”Merry Christmas” and slammed the phone down. Quiet.

My chest hurt, so I breathed and Mum said, ”Gee, hon, she's lovely. Why have you been keeping her from me?” She was trying to be funny, so I smiled a bit and asked what Mrs. Hood said. Mrs. Hood told Mum she shouldn't have to deal with a child like me in her condition. That's why Mum got so mad. Then Mum said to me, ”Well, may's well keep going while we're on a roll,” and started dialling Todd Baker. It was kind of the same, except she didn't get as mad when she got to the mad part. She just said, ”Look, she was afraid to go home. What did you expect me to do, send her away?” And then she told him to never-mind and hung up on him too.

I felt sort of smiley b.u.t.terflies a bit after she hung up on Todd Baker. Now he could just see how it feels, getting told off when you're upset. Plus, he shouldn't even have got upset; she was my mum. Then I asked her what he said. And she said he told her she was going to get charged with kidnapping and to send me right back where I came from.

Mum swooped over and went ”Nap!” when she hugged me. We got snorty giggles and I grabbed her back. ”Nap!” We kept napping each other on the kitchen floor. Then she pulled me onto her lap and said, ”Kidnapping my own kid-huh! Draft-dodging little t.u.r.d.” And I started laughing like crazy. Mum always had good words like t.u.r.d to call people-and she said it some more, only like The Queen-”Yes, a t.u.r.d, I say, a t.u.r.d without a country! Poor goof, probably scared they'll s.h.i.+p him back to Ohio or wherever the h.e.l.l he's from.” I told her he was from Oregon. And Mum went, ”Ew-an Oregonian t.u.r.d. They're the worst!” Mum's hilarious when she's being funny. ”Well, screw 'em all; it's just you and me, kid. Come sit and watch TV with your old Tigress ma,” and she growled and we went and laid down on the couch together.

Grace Fifteen.

DECEMBER 1974.

MUM WANTED US to keep moving. Like Butch Ca.s.sidy and the Sundance Kid. She didn't say that and I never saw the movie, but I heard that's what they did. And plus, I really wanted to be called The Sundance Kid.

Stewart's head hurt and he was sad that we were leaving. He seemed kind of bugged that Mum wouldn't say where we were going. I figured she couldn't tell him cuz then he'd know too much, until we were sitting, all set to go, in the back of the taxi-turned out she didn't even know. All she could think of for telling the driver was downtown.

We were in the taxi for around ten minutes' worth of driving when he finally said into the rear-view mirror again, ”So, where d'you wanna go? Do you know where you wanna go?”

Mum kept looking out the window. There was rain again and it made everything blue-the trees and people and streets. ”No, just go downtown ... somewhere cheap.”

”OK, you mean a hotel or something; now were gettin somewhere. Whereabouts? Like downtown downtown? or Broadway and Main? or-I mean, we'll be downtown in another seven, eight minutes, eh ... so, uh-” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffled. I looked at his black hair curling down on his shoulders, then in the rear-view mirror at his eyes, blue and s.h.i.+ny and right in this little clean s.p.a.ce between the curls on his forehead and the beard creeping up his face. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then went, ”A cheap hotel.”

”Yeah, nothing fancy, just a cheap clean place to stay the night.”

He was quiet a second. ”Well, hey, y'know, the Child Protection's got a place where y-”

”No!” bursted out of Mum and me at the same time. We giggled at each other and fidgeted.

The driver-guy watched us in the mirror. ”Hey, no problem, whatever you like,” and waved his hand at the idea as if it was a bug on the steering wheel. ”We'll just keep drivin', that's no problem ... So how cheap?”

”Cheap!” We said it together again like we were the chicken sisters.

”Right.” He nodded, ”Cheap.” Well, we'll be coming up on the Ivanho Hotel on Main. s.h.i.+tty area, but it's somethin' around ten, twelve bucks a night.”

”Sold!” She held my hand and said, ”Just think, you can look back at this someday when you have kids and tell them we ran away and stayed at the Ivan-ho-ho-ho Hotel.”

I looked up at the place as we stopped. Mum leaned over the seat and paid the driver with some of the money Stewart gave her, saying, ”Umm, just the bills, please-I'm sorry, that's not much of a tip, we're in sort of a tight spot right now.”

”Hey, I understand, completely, eh-I know the scene. You guys take care,” and he patted the back of the seat.

We got out and Mum took me by the hand under humongous neon letters that ran up and down over the doors. ”IVAN O,” it said, with the burned-out ”H.”

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