Welcome to the Slipstream

by Natalka Burian

  Our human wall broke apart past the second line of cars, and we let Mom loose. She roved and scampered across the sea of gravel, oblivious to the rest of us. Ida spun around and looked like she was about to slap Marine. She didn’t, though, and I could see her practically sweating with the effort not to.

  “What the hell is this, Marine?” Ida shouted, turning the other woman’s name into an insult, putting all the emphasis on the -ine.

  “Excuse me, but I’m not sure why you blame me for this,” Marine shouted back. “You know her best, after all.”

  “Well I’m not the one who’s been six inches away from her, twenty-four hours a day. How did you not see this coming?”

  Ida yelled at Marine, but I felt like most of her yelling was directed at us, at herself, and at me. How did we not see this coming?

  “Jesus, now where did she go?” Ida said.

  We all pivoted where we stood, scanning the empty parking lot for Mom’s oscillating figure. I strained to listen for the movement of the parking lot’s tiny stones. If she disappeared onto the desert sand, in the dark, things would get really, really bad. I could forget about playing my first show, for a start. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater into my palms and pinned them down with my fingernails.

  “Mom!” I shouted, as I turned and turned.

  Ida crept along the rows of cars, stopping every once in a while to peer underneath their boxy metal bodies.

  “Soh-of,” she wheedled. “Sofia, honey,” just like she was calling to a missing cat.

  Marine sat cross-legged on the ground and started humming to herself. Jesus, I thought, Just, Jesus. I imagined having to identify Mom’s decomposing body on a table somewhere. I clenched my hands into fists and kept looking.

  The three of us were out there a long time. I stopped checking my phone as the sky grew darker and the time inched closer and closer to eight. Marine meditated about Mom’s coordinates, whatever that meant. Ida and I fanned out farther and farther until our footsteps pressed past the parking lot, beyond the off-brand landscaping and into the desert. I wondered if this was what it was like to be a bird, just circling and circling, looking and looking.

  Loud staccato chattering broke up the search. I sprinted back to the poorly lit parking lot, where all of the noise was coming from.

  “Oh Van, Van, my sweet, sweet Van!” I heard Mom’s voice before I saw her, kneeling in the stony grit of the lot. Marine knelt beside her, cinching her close with both arms, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.

  Ida coughed out a string of curse words behind me as she made up the distance between us. Ida put her arm out, and, when I took it, she leaned into me trying to catch her breath.

  “My Van,” Mom said, rising from the ground. “I’m going for a mission, yes? But only a brief time.” Mom’s accent sliced out at us in the night.

  “Sofia,” Ida said slowly, “where are you thinking about going?”

  “We’ve discussed it,” Marine said. Her head popped up from where it had been resting against Mom’s. “I’m taking Sofia on a mission. A spiritual mission.”

  “Oh my God,” Ida growled, and then started to cough.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Mom walked over to me, slipping out from under Marine’s arms. She held my face between her hands. I wanted to pull away. I wanted to wrench Mom’s own head into my arms and hold her down in one spot.

  “Marine will transport me, and when I’m through, I come straight back to you. She needs me, this Laurel.”

  “What? Mom, we need you!” I yelled, even though I knew she couldn’t really understand me when she was like this.

  If we lost hold of Mom, if we lost track of her, she could do her worst. Ida steadied her breathing and put one hand on Mom’s back and one hand on mine.

  “Sure, of course you need to go on this mission, of course. But let’s all just go inside, calm down, regroup—”

  “No, no,” Mom pulled away sharply. “This place needs me. I know I can help them.”

  “What place?” Ida asked.

  “The Congregation of Blessed Light,” Mom said.

  Marine approached us and looked meaningfully at me and Ida.

  “You see, Van, Ida,” Marine said, “Laurel is a very skilled healer.” She raised her eyebrows on the last word.

  What is that supposed to mean, I wondered. A doctor?

  “Okaaaay,” Ida said. She drew out the word like she was trying to make more space between us and this healer, to figure out what was going on.

  “Do you understand?” Marine asked, again with that eyebrow lift.

  I lifted my own eyebrows back at her. Right then, I wanted to hit someone. I wanted to slap Mom, or Marine, maybe even knock myself unconscious so I didn’t have to figure it out.

  “What is she talking about?” I asked. I hated that I felt so jealous, on top of everything else.

  “Laurel—she is practically my second mother,” Marine directed this at Ida. “She runs a treatment facility of sorts. I was telling Sofia about it, that Laurel is a healer, not a business person, and that her facility is suffering as a result. Sofia believes that she can help.” Marine reached out for Mom, but Mom had already stepped away, squinting out into the dark.

  “I must go to her, to Laurel. Marine understands.”

  “Yes, Sofia.” Marine turned to Ida and me. “I also believe my friend can help her. If you get my meaning. Now, I will just get your mother to my car, and we’ll leave straightaway.”

  “Leave straightaway? Now just hold on a minute. No one needs to go anywhere,” Ida said.

  “It’s not far at all. Only in Sedona. Believe me,” Marine said, right at Ida and me. “This is the best option for Sofia.”

  Mom leaned over and kissed Marine. Ida and I stepped back, like we’d been cut out of the decision. I was stunned—I felt so physically pushed away. Ida leaned into me and said, “I don’t know about this. I really don’t know.”

  I looked at Ida, trying to pull myself together. The full force of the day fell on me and I said, “I think we have to let her go with Marine.” Ida nudged me, hard. “What?” I said. “Marine’s the one who got her all worked up about this Laurel, let her handle it.” I knew how bad it would be for Mom to leave, and I still thought I’m going to Alex’s party. I’m going to play this show no matter what—that was the selfish, sinister truth that bit through all of it. I was pissed that Mom had brought loopy, unnecessary Marine into our lives, I was angry that Mom had taken away my surveillance room safe haven, but mainly I was furious that she was trying to go off on some crackpot job without us. Let her see how she does without Ida and me. I felt chilled by what I’d said, but also charged by choosing something I wanted over dealing with Mom.

  Besides, all of our normal ways seemed blocked. If we wrestled Mom back inside somehow to drug her, there would be a scene. If we called an ambulance, it would be an even bigger mess. How would we smooth things over for Chantal, for Chantal who was already prepared to throw us out of the Silver Saddle? Of course I was selfish—I had plenty of selfish reasons. I wasn’t ready to leave Vegas. I wasn’t ready to leave the band and what it meant. I wanted Mom to the side for once, not to worry only about her.

  “Are you sure about that?” Ida asked, squeezing my hand.

  “I’m sure,” I answered.

  It didn’t matter if I was sure or not, because while Ida and I whispered to each other, Mom and Marine had been walking. The silent, dark lot was punctured by the clip of a car door closing and the burst of an engine. I heard Mom’s voice, streaming from an open window as they drove away.

  “Well, Jesus,” Ida said. She slapped her cheeks a few times and let out a long, creaky sigh. “We’ll see. We can go after her, too, you know.”

  I froze, jerking Ida to a stop beside me.

  “Ida, we can’t. Chantal can’t know she just left like that.”

  Ida wrinkled her forehead.

  “Remember that little heart-to-heart she sat me down for?�
� I said, waving my arms up at the sky. “Mom can’t get fired again. Not so fast.” I thought of Alex, of Joanna and Carol. Of Ovid. “Are you ready to leave? Like this?”

  We stared at the taillights of Marine’s car as they retreated, the size of two glowing red thumbprints in the dark.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Ida said. “We got this. I got this.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or me. I snuck a glance at my phone: 7:15. I could still make it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I didn’t realize how cold I was until we were back inside. The blast of air conditioning was balmy compared to the desert night air. My fingers tingled. It was hard not to rush Ida back up to the suite—I still had to change—but she was clearly having trouble walking. Ida’s face was drained of color and her lips had purpled under her fuchsia lipstick.

  Speed didn’t matter, though, since Chantal was already there, waiting. She stood at the corner of the reception desk, poised to pounce on Mom, us, whoever made it back, once the terrible display was all over. If I thought I knew Chantal’s angry face before, I was wrong. Her shoulders were tensed nearly to her ears, and her eyebrows were drawn low like two thunderbolts.

  Ida and I held each other like a couple of orphans. I hoped she was going to do the talking, because I was finished. I had someplace to be. The possibility of the night ahead jolted through to the ends of my hair. It was probably compounded by Mom’s terrifying but thrilling exit—with Mom gone and Ida distracted, I could probably do whatever I wanted. I might even stay out all night. The reception staff buzzed behind the desk, but quieted as we approached. Chantal stepped in front of us.

  “Ladies, my office, please.” The sentence barely escaped her clenched jaw.

  It was my second time in Chantal’s office in one day. Ida lagged behind me, and really took her time getting through the door. Chantal closed it behind us and nobody sat down. Please don’t let her call the police, I silently begged. It would ruin everything for Mom, and there would definitely be no big night out for me.

  “Will one of you please explain what is going on?” Chantal said, with that same, barely contained viciousness.

  “Of course, of course,” Ida said, waving her hand like, What-this? This-is-no-big-thing.

  Chantal’s eyes bugged out a little and she looked like she was going to throw something.

  “Really cold out tonight,” Ida continued. She gave a little burlesque shiver. Ida was stalling, trying to get her thoughts together.

  I looked at the clock in Chantal’s office.

  “Yeah, you don’t normally think of the desert as a cold place but . . .” I jumped in. I couldn’t help myself—it was probably all the adrenaline.

  “That’s enough,” Chantal said. “Where is Sofia?”

  “You didn’t see her?” Ida asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “What?” Chantal banged a nearby shelf with her fist.

  “We sent her up a while ago.” Ida squinted toward Chantal in confusion. “She was so upset, poor thing. I mean, I don’t know about you, Van, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so broken up.”

  “Yeah, she was really devastated.” I had no idea where Ida was going with this, but I tried to catch what she was throwing me. The faster we were out of Chantal’s office, the better.

  “To be honest, Chantal,” Ida said as she picked a mint out of the bowl on Chantal’s desk, “I don’t think it was a hundred percent appropriate for Sofia to go off like that in front of Van here. I mean, personal is personal, right?” She pulled the striped candy from its cellophane wrapper and popped it in her mouth.

  Chantal looked at us, back and forth. I could see her trying to replay, to rewind something in her mind.

  “I mean, it’s too bad about Marine. I know Sofia and she were very close, but I didn’t see it going long-term. Did you?” she asked me from around the candy.

  I still had no idea where Ida was going, but I shook my head.

  “Yeah,” Ida sighed, “I guess they’d been fighting for a while. I bet you noticed it, though, right?” She wagged a finger at Chantal, that you’re-some-kind-of-sharp-cookie gesture that she had. “Poor Sof has been so distracted by that woman. Marine always seemed a little unstable, if you ask me.”

  I gaped at Ida, but fortunately, so did Chantal, so she wasn’t watching my face.

  “Yeah, Marine tore on out of here. They were having a really ugly fight. I’m sorry you all had to see that. I’m sorry Van had to see it. I tried to get them both to cool off, but there was no talking sense to Marine. I just sent Sofia up when it was obvious she was too upset to help the situation.”

  “She left you and her daughter to deal with her girlfriend?”

  “No, no, no,” Ida half chuckled. “It wasn’t anything like that.”

  I stared at Ida like she was a loose tiger in the room.

  “You know, she ended it with Marine, and Marine wasn’t taking it well. Throwing things, screaming, getting violent.” Ida looked down at her hand like she was inspecting a manicure. “I thought it would be better if Sofia was out of the picture. Just the sight of her was making that Marine come unglued.”

  Jesus, I thought. She wasn’t the only one coming unglued. I didn’t know who, if any of us, was still glued.

  “Hmm,” Chantal said. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

  “Well,” Ida said. “I got rid of her. I wanted Van nearby, for my own protection. Marine is nuts.”

  “I see,” Chantal said. I could hear her temper coming down in the tone of her voice. “Maybe I should go up and have a talk with Sofia.”

  “Oh no, that’s not necessary. I think she just needs to rest up. She wouldn’t want you to see her all emotional like this. Sofia’s nothing if not a real professional.”

  I started to laugh, a terrible, ugly bark, and clapped my hand over my mouth.

  “Van, I need to get you to bed, too. Look at you, you’re hysterical.” Ida shuffled back around to me and stood so close I could practically taste the mint on her breath. “I know we’d all appreciate it, Chantal, if you could keep this matter quiet. I know how embarrassed Sofia is about all of this. She wouldn’t want her colleagues thinking this is business as usual for her.”

  “Of course,” Chantal said, finally leaning against her desk.

  Ida and I started walking toward the door, but then she stopped and looked back at Chantal.

  “I know she wouldn’t dream of bringing this up,” Ida began. “But I think it would be best if Sofia had a personal day or two, to get herself together.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s necessary,” Chantal answered. “I’ll speak with her later and we’ll sort it out.”

  Ida put her hands in the air. “Fair enough,” she said. “You have a good night now, Chantal.”

  “Yes,” Chantal said, slowly, looking out into the distance with that rewind face.

  Ida elbowed me.

  “Yeah, good night,” I mumbled. We slipped out the door before Chantal could say anything else.

  “Not a word until we get back upstairs,” Ida hissed.

  I still had to convince Ida to let me go out. Normally, I knew she would, she’d even help me get dressed. But, with Mom’s running off, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it would be best to just slip out.

  In the elevator, Ida held tight to me. She clutched my arm as we travelled the hallway to our room and held even tighter when we got inside. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was having trouble moving without my help.

  “Ida, are you okay?” I asked as the door slammed shut behind us.

  Ida fell onto the sofa.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she said, letting all the air out of her lungs. “What a night. I’m fine, honey. I’m just worn out. I don’t think I can even make it to my bed. Just leave me here, all right?” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “You did a great job down there.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess. Get me my pills, will you?�
��

  I hurried into the kitchenette and handed Ida a glass of water and a couple of her sleeping tablets.

  “This was some night. Any plans we make now will be garbage. Let’s just get a little sleep and talk about it with fresh heads, okay?”

  I’d always loved that expression of Ida’s: fresh heads. It made me think of pale green globes of lettuce in a garden.

  “I love you, Ida,” I said.

  “I love you, too, kid,” she said.

  I willed her to sleep and to sleep hard.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was nearly eight o’clock and Ida was already snoring gently on the couch. I pressed myself into the corner of my room and bent my head over the phone. Four missed calls from Carol.

  “Van?” Alex picked up on the third ring. “Where are you? I thought we were meeting downstairs.”

  “Yeah, I’m on my way now.”

  “I’m in the car. In the lot. I’ll swing by and pick you up, okay?”

  “No, no,” I said, thinking of Chantal. “I’ll just meet you out back.”

  “Okay, but hurry—something’s going down over there. I guess there’s an issue. Marcos is being crazy.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Joanna’s boyfriend, remember? I guess he showed up, and now they’re fighting. Joanna sounded pretty upset. So, you know, let’s hurry.”

  “Oh, okay!” I said a little too brightly. “See you in a minute.” I threw my phone on the bed.

  Was Marcos there to repo his equipment? Then there would be no show for sure. No show for me, anyway.

  My hands shook as I ran them through my hair, mussing it up a little. I hoped it looked cool and not like I didn’t have time to shower. I didn’t even have time to change, but figured that my sweater and jeans were innocuous enough. I stuck my phone in my back pocket and crept out into the living room, where Ida slept.

  Mom’s open purse sagged on the countertop. I could see the light blinking out from her silenced phone. I didn’t think about who was calling. Instead, I reached inside and fished around for her wallet. In it were a few squashed hundred dollar bills. I took one out and smoothed it on the countertop. Just take it, I told myself. Ida snored behind me. Ida would want you to go—under different circumstances she would tell you to go. I shoved the money into my back pocket and left as quietly as I could.