Roadside Attraction

by M. G. Higgins

  Brooke looks over. All her sharp edges are gone. As if she finally feels safe. “That’s Logan.”

  “Logan,” the woman says. “Would you like to come in?”

  Not really. But I don’t want to be rude. “Sure.” I reach over and close the passenger door. “I’ll just be a minute,” I tell Jethro. He yelps. I feel bad for him.

  I reach the sidewalk. The woman sticks out her thin hand. “I’m Claudia.”

  We shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  She wraps her arm around Brooke’s shoulder. “Come in. I want to hear all about your adventure.” They walk toward the house.

  I hear a noise in the pickup. Jethro paws at the window. “I really should take care of my dog first.”

  “You can bring the dog inside,” Claudia says.

  “He’s not a house dog,” I say.

  “Well, the yard is fenced. Use the side gate. There’s a bucket back there if he needs water. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  I watch them as they disappear through the front door, still holding on to each other. Brooke’s grandmother seems nice enough. But something tells me I should have kept driving.

  CHAPTER 12

  I have a hard time keeping hold of Jethro while I attach his leash. He jumps out of the pickup and runs to the closest tree. Pees forever. Trots from tree to tree. Up and down the street. So many plants, shrubs, and grass. Not a tumbleweed in sight. Must smell really strange. It’s strange to me, and I’m not sniffing.

  We get back to the house. I open the side gate. It’s a tall wooden thing, painted the same colors as the house. I walk Jethro into the backyard. Make sure there’s nothing he can destroy. No way for him to get out. I find the faucet and fill a metal bucket with water.

  I look around some while he’s drinking. It’s like a park back here. Perfectly mown lawn. Lots of flowers in the ground and in pots. Upholstered patio furniture. Hot tub. Huge stainless steel grill. A deluxe wooden play set with swings and a slide. I’m guessing that was for Brooke.

  “Be good,” I tell Jethro. “Stay off the furniture. And stay out of the plants.” I take off his leash. He runs around sniffing, tail wagging. Good thing he already peed.

  I hear a tapping sound. Claudia stands at a glass door, waving for me to come in.

  I do.

  There’s a small glass-top table in the center of the room. Potted flowers are scattered around. Orchids, I think. The table is set with fragile-looking cups and saucers. Pastries of some kind on a fancy plate. Brooke’s not here.

  “Brooke is taking a shower,” Claudia says. “She wanted to change out of her dirty clothes. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Tea?”

  “I’d offer you something stronger. But I don’t think you’re twenty-one yet. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen. Water is fine.”

  “Water. Certainly. I’ll be right back. Help yourself to a scone. They’re fresh.” She leaves through an arched doorway.

  By scone, I guess she means the pastries. I take one. It crumbles as I bite into it. I try to catch the crumbs with my hand.

  She returns with a pitcher of water. “Please, Logan, have a seat.” She hands me a small plate from a side table.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I sit. Set the pastry on the plate.

  Claudia sits across from me. She glances outside. “My, your dog is energetic.”

  I follow her gaze out the door. Jethro’s rubbing his nose along the lawn. Then he rolls onto his back. Kicks his legs in the air. Starts over again. “Sorry.” I move to get up. “He’s not used to grass. I’ll put him back in the pickup.”

  “No, no,” she says. “It’s just a lawn. No harm done.”

  I don’t quite believe her. But I settle back onto my chair.

  “So tell me what happened,” she says. “Where did you meet my granddaughter?”

  I wish Brooke were here. I don’t know how much she wants me to share.

  “Don’t worry,” Claudia says. “I know she’s a handful. You found her hitchhiking?”

  “Sort of. She came into my store. The place my grandparents own. I work there. It’s in Arizona.”

  “Arizona. I see. And did she shoplift?”

  Um. Wow. I don’t know what to say. I take a long drink of water. My mouth puckers at the taste of lemon.

  “Never mind,” she says. “Why did you decide to give her a ride? Oklahoma City is a long way from Arizona.”

  “I guess I felt sorry for her. Didn’t want anything bad to happen.”

  “That was very gallant of you. And you drove straight here?”

  I pause. “No.” I decide to leave it at that. Not mention the motel. I don’t think she trusts me, no matter what the truth is.

  She sips her tea. Narrows her eyes. It suddenly hits me how much trouble I’m in. If that’s where Brooke and this woman want to take it. I’m eighteen. Still don’t know Brooke’s age. But she’s young enough. Statutory rape. It would be her word against mine. “I should get going.” I push away from the table. “It’s a long drive. Would you tell Brooke goodbye for me?”

  “He didn’t touch me, Gram.” I twist around. Brooke’s standing behind my chair. Damp hair. Clean white shorts. Pink shirt.

  “I didn’t say he did.” Claudia’s eyes soften. She beams at her granddaughter. “You look one hundred percent better. I think Logan should have dinner with us and stay overnight. Don’t you?”

  “If he wants to,” Brooke says.

  “I really shouldn’t,” I say.

  “Of course you should,” says Claudia. “A meal and good night’s sleep is the least I can do. You helped my granddaughter. Maybe saved her from a terrible fate. And this way you can start fresh in the morning.”

  I think about it. If I stay the night, I can drive straight through tomorrow. Won’t have to waste money on a motel room. “Well, okay. That’s really nice of you.” Then I remember Jethro. “Can you tell me where there’s a grocery store? I need to buy food for my dog.”

  “Does he like roast beef?” Claudia asks.

  “He likes all meat.”

  “There are leftovers in the refrigerator. I’ll have Missy cook him some hash.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  “Nonsense.” Claudia stands. “I’ll tell Missy. And let her know about dinner. And then, Brooke, I’m calling your mother to let her know you arrived safely. Do you want to speak with her?”

  Brooke shakes her head quickly. “Tell her not to come for me. I don’t want to see her for a while.”

  Claudia seems to consider this. “All right.” She leaves.

  Brooke sits at the table and devours a scone. “I was starving. Missy makes the best pastries.”

  “Is she a maid?”

  “The cook. Betta is the housekeeper.” She looks out at the backyard, crumbs on her lips. “You didn’t expect all this, did you?”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

  “Right.” She drops three sugar cubes into her cup. Pours tea from a flowered pot. “A girl with a rich grandmother, shoplifting and hitchhiking.”

  “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. But just because she has money doesn’t mean you do.”

  “Actually, my parents are loaded. My dad’s a surgeon. Mom has a huge trust fund from my grandfather. We live in La Jolla. My bedroom has a view of the ocean.”

  I stare at her. “I’d like you to pay me back for the bus ticket.”

  “I can’t. I’m broke.” She laughs. “You should see your face right now. You’re totally confused.”

  She’s right. I am.

  CHAPTER 13

  Claudia returns before I can find out more about Brooke’s money situation. “Why don’t you come with me, Logan? I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure you’d like to rest and freshen up.”

  She leads me to the second floor, to the end of a long hallway. The room is huge. Sunny. Frilly curtains. Striped wallpaper. “The bathroom is through there.” She points to a door adjoini
ng the room. Huh. My own private bathroom. “Do you have clean clothes?” she asks.

  “No. I left in kind of a hurry.”

  “You and my granddaughter both.” She sighs. “Not really thinking, were you? Leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll have Betta clean them for you.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “Dinner is at seven.” She steps away. Turns back. “What did Brooke tell you about her history? You were together for many hours.”

  I shrug. “Not much.” I’m sure as heck not bringing up the cutting. “I don’t think she likes talking about herself.”

  Claudia nods. Closes the door behind her.

  I sit on the bed, relieved to finally be alone. I flop onto my back. But the bed is too comfortable. I’ll sleep if I don’t keep moving.

  I take off my clothes. Pile my pants, shirt, and socks neatly outside the door. Hold on to my underwear, embarrassed. But I can’t stand the thought of wearing them again. So I add them to the pile.

  The shower is white tile. Clean. Shiny. The water from the ceiling showerhead falls like rain. I stay in there a long time.

  The towel is the size of a beach towel. Thick. Soft. I want to marry it. I return to the bedroom, still drying off. Someone’s laid a terry cloth bathrobe across the bed. I open the door a crack. My clothes are gone.

  Guess there’s nothing I can do until they return. So I lie naked on that big cushy bed. Go instantly to sleep.

  I wake up to someone knocking. “Who is it?”

  No answer.

  I throw on the robe. Open the door. My clothes are neatly folded in a wicker basket. I carry them inside. Put them on, still warm from the dryer.

  I look at the clock next to the bed. Six thirty. I get my phone. Not much charge left, but should be enough for a call.

  “Hello?” Dad answers.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Logan!” His voice cracks. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on a road trip. Grandpa told you, right?”

  “No! No one told me anything!”

  “I told him,” I hear Grandpa say in the background.

  “You did?” Dad says away from the phone.

  “Dad?” I say. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay. But Jethro’s gone.”

  “He’s with me.”

  “He is?” Dad says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I told him,” Grandpa says.

  “Dad,” I say. “I’m driving home tomorrow. But it will take about twelve hours. So I’ll be late. Tell Grandpa.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “No, tell him right now.”

  I hear muffled voices. Then the line goes dead. I look at my phone. Still some charge. Dad must have hung up. I rub my face with my hand. I never should have done this. He’s totally freaked out that I’m gone.

  There’s a soft knock. Brooke opens the door. She’s wearing a dress. She looks older. Younger. I can’t tell. Definitely softer. Prettier. I think about saying so. Decide against it. Don’t want to give her the wrong idea. Like I’m interested.

  “It’s almost time for dinner,” she says. “Gram hates when people are late.”

  “I’m ready.”

  We walk down the hallway together.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asks.

  “My dad.”

  “Is he hard of hearing?”

  “No. Sorry. Sometimes I feel like I have to shout to get through to him.” I glance at her. “How are you?”

  She shrugs.

  “Glad to see your grandmother?”

  “Yeah. Mostly.” She looks around the house. “I always liked it here. Mom’s flying out tomorrow.”

  “I thought you didn’t want her to.”

  “I don’t. But she doesn’t care what I want. She told Gram she’s taking me on a vacation to the Bahamas. To get my mind off things.”

  “The Bahamas? That sounds cool.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Awesome.”

  We arrive in the dining room. The table is set with a tablecloth. Really nice dishes. I’m afraid to touch anything. Claudia’s not here.

  “Do I have time to check on Jethro?” I ask.

  “A couple of minutes.”

  I go to the backyard. Brooke goes with me. The dish that must have held his hash is empty. He’s stretched out on a chaise lounge. Raises his head when he sees me. Beats his tail slowly.

  “Hey! Get down!” I scold him.

  He obeys. Slowly.

  “I told you to stay off the furniture.”

  He wanders over to Brooke. She pets him.

  “Disloyal mutt.”

  “Come on,” Brooke says. “We’d better go in.”

  Dinner is … interesting. I guess it’s chicken. But it’s stuffed with something. Buried in a thick sauce. Barely cooked vegetables. Scalloped potatoes. Those I recognize. Grandma makes them all the time. Though not with cheese that tastes like this. It’s good. Just different.

  Brooke and Claudia do most of the talking. About old times. Things they did together. Places they went. Old friends of Brooke’s. But I can tell there’s a lot they’re not saying. About Brooke running away. About her mom coming. About what happens next. Maybe the light talk is because of me. Or maybe it’s a dinner rule—nothing unpleasant shall be discussed at the table.

  They must run out of safe topics because Claudia shifts her gaze to me. “So, Logan. Did you just graduate from high school?”

  My mouth is full and I nod.

  “And you’re off to college in the fall?”

  I swallow. “I’m going to keep working at the store.”

  “Oh, really? It’s a lucrative business, then?”

  Lucrative. I think that means it makes money. “Well, it supports all of us.”

  She asks me about all of us. I describe my family.

  “So you’ll be inheriting the store from your grandparents?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it. But, yeah. I guess.”

  “An interest in business would seem a prerequisite. Whether you pursue an education or learn on the job. Are you at least drawn to business management?”

  I push scalloped potatoes with my fork. I don’t know what to tell her. I work. I take care of my dad. I’ve never looked more than a few weeks into my future. “I haven’t really thought about that either.”

  “You must have some interests.”

  “He likes taking care of people,” Brooke says.

  “You could be a physician,” Claudia says. “Psychologist. Teacher. Preacher.” She sniffs. “Seems you have some exploring to do.”

  She makes it sound so easy. Like I have a choice.

  CHAPTER 14

  I set my fork down. “There’s nothing wrong with work.”

  “Of course not.” Claudia pours herself another glass of wine. “The world needs laborers.” She does that sniffing thing again. I get it. I’m low. Meaningless. Not worth her time. “Save room for dessert,” she says. “Missy made blueberry cheesecake.”

  “Yum,” Brooke says.

  “Sorry, but I have to pass.” I wad up my cloth napkin. Set it next to my plate. “I’m really tired. And I have to leave first thing.”

  “Are you sure?” Claudia asks.

  “Yeah. Thanks for dinner. I may not see you in the morning. So thanks for letting me stay the night.” I glance at Brooke. “I hope everything works out.”

  She gives me a look I can’t read. Maybe I could have yesterday. But I’m not sure who she is now. She seems like a different person here.

  Claudia rises from the table with me. “Just a moment, Logan.” She steps to a side table. Picks up an envelope. “Thank you again for taking care of my granddaughter.” She hands it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “For gas.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  She pushes it at me. “I hope you sleep well.”

  I sigh. Take the envelope. “Thanks.” I look one last time at Brooke. I won’t be seeing her aga
in. “Bye.”

  She stares at her dinner plate.

  I head upstairs to the guest room. Close the door. Throw the envelope on the bed. Turn on the TV. They must have satellite. I flip through a zillion channels.

  I mindlessly watch a movie. Think about Brooke. Wonder what I was expecting from her. She’s never expressed any gratitude. Any hint that what I did mattered. And I thought that would change tonight? I’m an idiot.

  I turn off the TV. Notice the envelope. Figure I should transfer the cash to my wallet. I open it. Inside are eight one-hundred-dollar bills.

  Eight hundred dollars.

  What the heck?

  This is too much. Way too much. My first thought is to give it back. But I know Claudia will insist that I keep it. Why is she doing this? Is she paying me for my labor? For driving Brooke? If that’s the case, she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand people doing something just because it’s the right thing to do. I feel sorry for her. At least now I know where Brooke gets that attitude.

  I shove two bills in my back pocket—for the gas and last night’s motel room. I leave the rest in the envelope and set it on the dresser. Then I climb into bed.

  I’m in the back seat of the old SUV, watching the passing countryside. It’s early spring. Late-winter rains have turned the hillsides green and gold with poppies. Mom’s driving. She and Dad are arguing. Dad’s face is red. Mean. So is Mom’s. Whatever he’s yelling at her about, she’s not backing down.

  Why can’t they look outside? See how beautiful it is. How perfect. Why are they always mad at each other? I clamp my hands over my ears. “Shut up!”

  Mom looks at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Shut up!” I yell again. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  The SUV swerves. Mom screams.

  I sit up, panting. It takes me a second to remember where I am.

  I step into the bathroom. Drink a glass of water. Try to make my heart stop racing. I get back into bed. I’m too hot and throw the covers off. Press my palms against my eyes. Try to push the images out of my head. But that never works. The nightmare plays over and over.