Journey to the Unknown

by Jacqueline Francis

  She swiftly moved into a stilted moonwalk and then ended it with a weird kind of lotus pose. “Did you see that? That was like Michael Jackson meets a Charlie’s Angel.”

  Despite his mood, he found himself grinning. “Those two should never meet. Ever.”

  It only got worse after that. Some moves were boisterous, others were outrageous and somewhat vulgar.

  “I’m taking this party to the floor.”

  “Please don’t.”

  What ensued was incredibly creative—a one-arm push up stance mixed with a rather grotesque bump and grind into the floor. There may have been an element of breakdancing in there, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He placed his hand over his eyes, but was still peeping through his fingers. “It’s like watching a train-wreck. It’s horrifying, but I-I can’t look away.”

  “Face it.” She hopped back up. “You don’t wanna look away from this awesomeness.”

  She did a few more ungraceful booty pops and he was sort of disappointed when the song came to an end.

  “God,” she huffed, sounding breathless as she sat down beside him again. “That must have been such a turn on for you. I can’t believe you didn’t pounce on me.”

  “You have no idea how hard it was to restrain myself.”

  “I know. I’m impossible to resist. Hashtag: SexOnLegs. Hashtag: ControlYourself.”

  He smiled, amused at how she could make fun of herself so easily. It was amazing how she could get so shy at times and yet she was still so out there. Confident in her crazy, yet so insecure in everything else. It was a very intriguing combination. “You do know no one actually says hashtag.”

  She smiled back, pretending that the undercurrent of emotion wasn’t there, but she reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know that all that foolishness was just to cheer him up. It was only for a few seconds, then she let go and slipped into normal conversation again as if all of it meant nothing when they both knew it didn’t.

  “So…uh…in that song,” she began, “Nicki Minaj says something and I’m a little confused.”

  “What did she say?”

  “What does…what does…um…dick on H and uh…and uh…p-p…p…pussy on W mean?”

  Her discomfort with the word was kinda cute. “Well…H stands for hard and W stands for wet.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened when it clicked. “OH! That’s a bit graphic.”

  “Wait. So the fact that she just throws out the words dick and pussy isn’t graphic, but once you know the status of that genitalia…then it becomes graphic?”

  “Yeah. I mean, before then it’s just like…chilling in your pants, but the adjective implies that a verb is coming…like some fucking is about to go down.”

  He shook his head, completely dumbstruck. “When did you start talking like this?”

  “When I discovered my inner gangsta. Now I be cussing like I’m straight outta Compton.”

  “But you’re not from Compton. You’re not even from this country.”

  “I kinda am; I was born here. And also you guys stole our Charlize Theron and our Trevor Noah. The least you could do is give me Compton.”

  She carried on talking about other crap and this time he didn’t want her to shut up. This wasn’t a slow-paced close to a busy day. It was more of an emotional roller-coaster. In the short time they’d been there, he’d felt annoyance, happiness, anger, loss, guilt, sadness, and—dare he admit it—even a bit of jealousy. And then she squashed everything up into a tight ball of solace. On the surface, to any outsider looking in, that was just crazy dancing, vulgar comments, and stupid jokes, but to him that was something much deeper. It was the Oreo to make him feel better and he didn’t want to think about what that might mean. If in two hours at the laundromat this girl could make him feel so many things, he dreaded to think what might happen in the next few weeks.

  Eight years ago…

  “Oh, damn! There she is, Kev.”

  Perry tugged the sleeve of his T-shirt with excitement and Kevin immediately lifted his binoculars to his eyes.

  “Ah, Rebecca,” Kevin mused. “How perfect God has made you.”

  They were too big to play on this treehouse, but it still served a purpose. It was the perfect height to peer into Becky’s window, yet the leaves and low-hanging branches kept them shielded from view. Lying flat on their stomachs with a pair of binoculars in hand did make him feel like they were stalkers, but he preferred the term secret spies.

  Becky had dance practice every day at four o’ clock, which meant she always came up to her room to change at three-thirty. Most of the time they only got lucky enough to see her in her bra and panties, though that didn’t stop them from hoping that one day she would take it all off, or maybe even have an accidental nipple slip. Either way, they were never left disappointed. She was a vision made for the fantasies of thirteen-year old boys.

  “Look at those tits, Perry.”

  “Look at that ass, Kev. I’m gonna keep this memory vivid in my mind so I can jerk off to it all weekend.”

  Kevin didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood to talk today. That was the best part of having Perry as a friend. He didn’t have to ask to know what the problem was. He just knew. They continued watching Becky as she pulled on a pair of tights over her long, smooth legs. After a few minutes, Perry casually slung his arm over his shoulder. It was a sign of comfort without dampening the mood. He was the only person who knew how to do that.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” he said reassuringly.

  “I know.”

  Everyone had been telling him the same thing all day, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. His mom was in the hospital again. Two years ago, the doctor had found a benign tumor in her stomach. They managed to successfully remove it, but she still had to go for routine checks. Every time she went in, he became edgy. There was always a chance of bad news and he found himself expecting the worst, but hoping for the best.

  He heard the back door swing open, but he didn’t pay much attention until Perry started tugging his sleeve again. “Yo, check it out. It’s your sister and…is that Billy Mason? I thought they broke up.”

  Kevin shifted to look over the other side of the treehouse, and lo and behold, it was Jordan with that douche nozzle, Billy Mason. Their on-again-off-again relationship could cause whiplash for any bystander. It had been going on for three years now. Max had left home this year to go to UCLA and now Jordan was toying with the idea of moving to Seattle to study as well. Kevin could only hope that once she left, she’d give up on this loser.

  They watched Billy pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  “I think I’m gonna lose my lunch,” Kevin whispered. “I prefer watching Becky.”

  Billy slipped his arm around her waist and they were going at it like crazy.

  “Yeah, Billy,” Perry taunted. “Slip her the tongue.”

  “Is sloppy make-out sessions your favorite pastime, Jo?” Kevin teased. “Tell us, what does loser taste like?”

  Jordan’s angry blue eyes shot up to them. “You little shits!” She ran towards the ladder of the treehouse and started climbing, looking more murderous with every step. “When I get my hands on the two of you…” She didn’t have to complete the threat for them to take her seriously.

  Kevin immediately hopped up. “Emergency exit, Perry!”

  They had run away from her enough times to know the drill. As she climbed up, they shimmied down the rope hanging from a branch.

  Perry was already at the fence by the time Kevin’s feet touched the ground. “Run, man! Run!”

  Kevin raced towards the fence and they hopped over. This too was a practiced technique. They ran down the street towards Perry’s house, knowing that Jordan wouldn’t follow them past the front gate.

  “She’s pissed,” Perry chuckled. “She’s probably still mad about the dead frog we left under her pillow last week.”

  Between laughing and running, they were breathless by the time t
hey walked up to the front door.

  “Were you boys troubling Jordan again?” a voice said from behind them.

  Kevin turned to see Perry’s mom carrying two bags of groceries. “Is it that obvious, Momma B?” Kevin asked as he took the bags from her hands.

  She kissed Perry, then him before opening the door. “You’re gonna miss her when she leaves.”

  “Which is why we gotta torture her as much as we can now, Ma,” Perry shot back.

  She sighed, shaking her head as she walked into the kitchen. “I’m gonna make us all some lunch and then I’ll take you to the hospital, okay?” she said, looking at Kevin.

  His jaw clenched. “I’m not going. I don’t want to see her.”

  It was a lie. He did want to see his mother. He just didn’t want to see her in the hospital.

  “Kevin…” Her voice was gentle yet firm, almost a warning that he shouldn’t argue. Momma B had always been stricter than his own mother, but not by any means less loving. “You are going to eat and then I am taking you to the hospital.”

  The volatile mood he’d been trying to suppress all day began to surface. “What difference does it make? She’ll be home by tomorrow and…she’s fine.”

  Taking out bread, butter, ham and cheese, she began making sandwiches. “She wants to see you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  And with the vision only a mother possessed, she saw that it was just the worry talking. But that didn’t mean that he wanted to go. He would see his mother when she was back at home, where she belonged.

  “She wants to see you, so you’re going,” Momma B said sternly.

  “I’m not going!” he snapped. “And you can’t make me. I don’t know where you get off telling me what to do. I don’t have to listen to you because you are not my mother!”

  He’d had disagreements with Momma B before, yet never had he said anything so despicable to her. That comment made her really mad really fast. She walked across the kitchen and slapped him. It was too restrained to cause pain, but hard enough to get his attention and let him know she was pissed. He glanced over at Perry and he just shrugged, giving him a look that said: Well, you had it coming.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d slapped him, but it was the first time she looked like she was genuinely disappointed in him.

  “You shut your mouth,” she hissed. The tears brimming in her eyes told him that she wasn’t just angry, she was hurt, making it clear that Momma B had just earned the first nail in her log. “You have the nerve to say something like that to me? Who takes you to your swimming lessons? Who makes you soup every time you get sick? Who picks you up from school every other day?” She paused, and when he still didn’t respond, she became more agitated. “Answer me!”

  “You…” He cleared his throat. Shame was weighing his voice down. “You, Momma B.”

  “That’s right. I’m there, every day. Twenty-four-seven, I’m there. Anything you need, I’m there. The same way your mom is there for Perry. I’ve been there for every school concert, every little league game, not just for my boy, for you too. I haven’t missed one of your swimming tournaments. Not one.” She grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her. “I am your mother and it will do you good to remember that.”

  A weight lifted off her chest as soon as she said all that and she continued making sandwiches like nothing happened. She said what she needed to say, forgave him for what he said, and went back to being the sweet, loving woman that she was. He exchanged looks with Perry because they both couldn’t understand how women could just flip the switch like that.

  “Now we are going to eat,” she said sprightly. “And then afterwards, we are all going to the hospital whether we like it or not.” She glanced at Kevin with a look that cautioned him not to argue again and then said the most motherly phrase ever. “Because I said so.”

  Kevin was torn at that moment, not knowing whether to smile or roll his eyes. Mothers!

  November, 14

  Las Vegas, Nevada to Grand Canyon, Arizona

  “Okay, Kevin,” Jasmin said, closing the car door. “Before we officially leave Vegas, I want to give you a once in a lifetime opportunity. Do you wanna get married?”

  He pretended to give it some thought. “I’d love to, Jazz, but I can’t. I’ve always dreamed of my future wife being…you know…sane.”

  “Well, your loss.” She started the car. “I can make a mean pot of curry. I’m just putting it out there so you know what you’re missing.”

  “Regret is building up inside me already.” Glancing over at her, he did his usual check, and sighed his annoyance. He hated that he had to tell her the same thing every time. “Seatbelt, Jasmin.”

  She strapped it on and then they were finally on the road again, heading to a new destination. They’d made a quick stop at Hoover Dam—Jasmin’s definition of quick—and it would take four hours before they reached the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

  His phone rang and as soon as he saw that it was his mother, he disconnected the call. She called at least every second day, but he’d learned not to have conversations with his family in front of Jasmin. It always led to questions, which he didn’t necessarily want to answer. It wasn’t just because he wanted to keep his life private; he hated seeing that look in her Jasmin eyes, that look of longing. She wanted what he had.

  He sent his mom a text telling her that he would call her as soon as he reached his destination, then pushed his phone back into his pocket.

  “Was that your mom again?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She kept her eyes on the road, but he didn’t have to see her face to know that the questions were coming. “What’s she like?”

  A conversation about mothers in general was something he actively avoided. It stirred up too many issues, not just for her but for him as well. Her mother left her, and she was traveling across the country to meet her. His mother had been there whenever he needed her and all he’d done was push her away. And he didn’t only have his own mother; he had Momma B too. After Perry died, he’d pulled away from her as well. He hadn’t gone to see her once, because he simply couldn’t face her. He had the love of two amazing women, two moms, and she had nothing. It wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have.

  “She’s like a mom,” was his swift and cold response.

  “Yeah.” He noticed that fleeting brain-drain twitch and the accompanying perky smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  She used sarcasm to hide her hurt and that was precisely the reason why he avoided this topic like the plague. Goddamn issues. It would actually hurt her more if he told her what his mom was like, so instead he redirected the conversation.

  “What’s your dad like?” he asked.

  Silence. Long, empty silence. It made him realize that her dad issues might be worse than her mom issues.

  “He’s…he’s great when he’s actually around,” she answered quietly. “When I was younger, I was his whole world. He used to read me a bedtime story every night. We’d cook together and have tea parties. My dad’s a crazy guy. He used to prank my nannies and blame it on me. He didn’t mind doing something completely ridiculous just to get a smile out of me. Like, when I was in normal school, they had a mother-daughter day and he put on a dress and came with me so I wouldn’t feel left out. The other kids teased me, but I loved him for it.” Her voice was calm and steady yet he knew it was all a front. “All that changed about three years ago. His business started growing so fast and he started spending more and more time away from home. In the beginning, he at least tried to make up for it when he got back, but…eventually it got to the point where he didn’t come home for months…and I was just there…all by myself. Tutors and nannies, I had the best of them, but…but do you know not one of them would sit and watch a movie with me…or eat dinner with me. I guess there are just certain things in life money can’t buy.” She remained focused on the road, not even turning to glance at him. “And once we moved here…I lost him compl
etely. I’ve lost count of how many times your mom has called you…and he hasn’t called me once. Because it was such a gradual build up, I can’t pinpoint exactly when he stopped caring.” Another brain-drain twitch. Another perky smile. “But…whatever. I have eleven friends on Facebook now and I know you don’t think they’re…real friends, but it’s a start. I am unstoppable! Hey, did you know Mandy sent me a friend request and her real name is Margaret? I would also have an alter ego if my name was Margaret.”

  Just like that her mood changed. She drained every emotion before it became a feeling and moved on. Watching her transition back to her usual effervescent self, he noted that they had yet another thing in common: emotionally, they were both fucked up!

  She talked about the things that hurt her, but refused to actually feel the pain. He felt all the pain, but refused to talk about it.

  She spent the next twenty minutes covering her pain with pointless stories of her trip with the Andys through Vegas until he couldn’t even see it anymore. It was obviously a practiced technique, and she was soon in fake high spirits again.

  “I didn’t even know they were taking pictures until she tagged me in this photo where I looked so drunk. It’s so embarrassing, but Dean put a comment on it. He said I look cute. Weirdo.”

  Funny how that name was an instant trigger now, one that had his hands curling into fists.

  “I have to admit, I blushed a little when I read that.”

  He was gritting his teeth, trying not to listen as she jabbered on.

  “I didn’t know this, but when I went to his profile, I saw that he’s in the process of becoming a pilot. How cool is that? At some point in the future, I’ll be able to say that I know a pilot. I think it suits him. He’s such a mellow kind of guy, he wouldn’t panic under pressure. Like, if the plane is going down, he—”

  “Jasmin,” he cut in curtly, “we’re not friends. We’re not besties. I don’t give a fuck about Dean. You can save your stories about him for Rachel.”

  She was a bit surprised. He’d been listening to everything she said for the last twenty minutes without complaint and she couldn’t understand why he’d switched to asshole mode so suddenly.