by Bonnie Tharp
Her best friend sighed loud enough for her to hear. That meant she would help.
“I hate riding the bus. All those weird people . . . but . . . I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to. Just cover for me if Gram calls.”
“She’ll call your cell phone, stupid, not mine. It’s for emergencies, remember.”
“I thought of that. I’ll just say the battery died.”
Flopping down on the bed, Peggy kicked her shoes onto the floor.
“Why do you have to talk to him now?”
Staring at the crack in the ceiling, she paused.
“I want to ask him some things, you know?”
“I guess, but I think you’re nuts. I’m coming with you, that way we won’t be lying about being together. I really hate lying.”
She put her feet on the bed, crossing one knee over the other.
“Yeah, me, too. If anyone asks, we took the wrong bus to the central library. Thanks, by the way. I really do appreciate it.”
“What are friends for?”
She thought she heard the stairs creak.
“Gotta go.”
“Later . . .”
Turning off the phone Peggy sat up on the edge of the bed.
What will I say? Or more importantly, what will he say?
ON MONDAY, PEGGY and Malissa met in the commons after the last bell. They’d stowed their backpacks in their lockers. Neither had homework that couldn’t wait. Slinging their purses over their shoulders, they headed to the city bus stop. A car honk got their attention.
“Hey, Peg, Malissa, wait!”
“Hi, Miles.” Peggy leaned into the window of the old blue four-door Mustang he was driving again. “Where you headed?”
“Work.”
“Where are you working?” Malissa asked. “And when did you get your car back?”
“I’m restricted, so I can drive to school and work. I’m working at the mall, want a lift?”
The girls exchanged a look then Peggy leaned in. “Can you take a little detour?”
“It depends on how far, my dad checks the mileage.”
“Douglas and Hillside,” Peggy said.
“There’s a lot of cool stuff there, where are you going?”
“Does it matter?”
“Nah, I guess not. But, how will you get home?”
“We can catch the bus.” Malissa stood next to her friend.
“Okay, hop in, but you can’t tell anyone.”
“We won’t tell if you won’t.” Peggy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Sounds fair. Hop in.”
“Are your folks still mad about the other night?”
“Just Mom. She thinks you’re a bad influence on me.” Miles winked at Peggy.
“Yeah. Well, Gram thinks you’re a bad influence on me. We ought to get them together.”
“Oh, boy. That would be a shit storm,” Malissa said. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near it.”
Miles dropped the girls on the corner, waving as he drove off. The girls approached the concrete building. A pink neon DINER sign blinked in the front window, but it was too dark inside for them to see much.
“I can’t believe you dragged me to a diner. If there are any old men with no teeth I’m outta here,” Malissa said.
“Get a grip. We’re not here to see the locals. I hear they have pretty good burgers and fries.”
“What if you can’t see him?”
“He’s the cook and it’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner. But, if he’s not there then I guess I’ll have to figure something else out.”
“Why doesn’t that fill me with confidence?” Malissa straightened her shoulder bag.
“Probably the same reason I don’t feel confident myself. Let’s get this over with.”
The girls walked in and waited for their eyes to adjust.
“What can we do for you girls?” A short woman with frizzy platinum hair and big breasts wiped down a table with a wet rag, the front of her tee shirt soaked where she’d leaned over the wet surface.
Lifting her chin, Peggy approached her. “We heard you had a good cook.”
Grabbing a couple of menus she walked to a table by the window, swinging her big hips in her low rise jeans, a muffin top hanging well over. “Schools out, I see.”
Nervous and fidgety, Peggy didn’t open her menu. “I’d like a diet coke and crispy French fries, please.”
The waitress’ lips were cracked from age or too many cigarettes. Her skin looked like old leather, her voice gravely. “How about you?”
“A coke, please, no ice,” Malissa said.
Platinum scribbled down their orders then sauntered over to the cook’s window.
“Tom, we need a fry, extra crispy, for two little gals from school.”
As Peggy watched, the empty space filled with the face of her father. Their eyes connected. She squirmed in her seat.
“Got it, Maudie.” Tom nodded.
“Is that your dad?”
“Ahuh.”
“I hope he doesn’t burn your fries, I’m hungry.”
Grabbing her friend’s hand, Peggy could feel fear crawling up her spine. She crossed the fingers of her other hand and said a little prayer.
Lord, help me not screw this up. And I pray . . . well . . . I don’t know what I want, but I hope whatever it is doesn’t hurt.
The girls waited in silence. Platinum Maudie sat two drinks and a bottle of ketchup in front of them. She rested her hands on her ample hips.
“Which one of you is Tom’s girl?”
“What?” Malissa asked.
“Me.” Peggy sat up straighter, attempting a smile. It felt more like a zipper pulled across her face.
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“I’ll be damned. Tom said he had kids, but I never thought they’d be almost grown.” Maudie turned to Malissa. “Who are you?”
Malissa swallowed hard. “Her friend.”
With a sniff, Platinum Maudie turned and walked away.
Leaning toward each other, the girls giggled.
“Holy cow. She’s scary.” Peggy let go of her friend’s hand, wiping the damp palm on her jeans.
This is way intense.
They sprang back as a platter of fries appeared on the table.
“Hi, Peg. Who’s your friend?” Tom asked, taking a seat next to her.
She straightened her spine and motioned toward Malissa.
“Dad. Tom, this is my best friend, Malissa. This is Tom Malone. My dad.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you.” He smiled, his chipped front tooth shining.
Malissa offered her hand, giving him a hesitant shake.
“What brings you girls by on this nice afternoon?”
Eating a French fry, Peggy didn’t register the crunchy texture or salty flavor.
“We came . . .” She cleared the frog from her throat. “I came to ask you a few questions.”
The smell of greasy onions wafted from his soiled white apron. His brown hair was slicked back, shorter than Peggy remembered, the hairline receding. His eyes looked kind and seemed to see no one but her.
“Interesting. Shoot.”
“These are great,” Malissa said, with her mouth full. She squirted ketchup on the corner of the plate and grabbed two more.
“You have to promise to tell me the truth,” Peggy said.
“Sure, whatever you say, kiddo.” Tom nabbed a fry and munched.
“Why did you come back after all these years?”
He stared at her for a long minute before answering.
“’Cuz your mom died. I knew you’d need
me.”
“After ten years, we were used to not having you around.” Peggy watched his face fall. “Why did you really come back?”
“Peggy, I . . .” He looked at Malissa who kept her eyes on the fries. The platter was already half empty. “You know I was in jail. I wrote to you kids, maybe not a lot, but I wrote a few times. When no one wrote back, I gave up.”
Crossing her thin arms over her chest, Peggy scowled. “Mom would’ve told us if you had written.”
“Maybe not. She was really mad at me. I screwed up big time.”
“You mean about the car accident?”
“Yeah. That, too, but I was a stupid kid, and I couldn’t handle things.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead on a bandanna he pulled from his back pocket. “I was too young and overwhelmed. I couldn’t settle down to be a good dad or husband.”
“So, you left us.” Grinding her teeth, Peggy’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s about the size of it.” Even though his words were flippant, Peggy could hear the resignation in his voice. It must’ve taken a lot to admit he’d been dumb, but it didn’t make it all right. Not by a long way.
“I’m sorry, honey.” He reached out a shaking hand to touch hers. She struggled not to pull it back. He must have seen the confusion on her face, because the touch was as brief as a breath.
“Mr. Malone.” Malissa wiped her face on her napkin, and placed it in the middle of the empty plate.
Peggy and Tom turned their attention to the dark haired girl.
“Yes, young lady?”
“I really liked your fries. How’d you make them so crispy?”
He smiled. “Deep-fat-fried until dark golden brown.”
“My mom needs a deep fat fryer.”
It finally sunk into Peggy’s distracted brain that her best friend had eaten all the French fries. She’d gotten only two of them. “You piglet!”
Tom’s snaggle-toothed smile was a happy one. “They’re best hot. I’ll make you some more, honey.”
Looking at the Felix the Cat clock on the wall, Peggy gasped. “We’ve got to go.”
Putting his hand on her arm, Tom grew solemn. “Thanks for coming. I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to scare you. I really just want to be a part of you kids’ lives, honey. You know, find out what’s been happening the last ten years. Honestly. I just want to see you sometimes, to talk and stuff.”
“Okay. I can’t today, I’m gr . . . I have to get back, but could you call so we can plan something?”
“Sure. I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.” His smile looked sad.
“I’m sorry, too . . . Dad.” Peggy gave his cheek a quick peck. She and Malissa hustled to the bus stop. When they were out of hearing range, Malissa touched Peggy’s arm.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I am.” Peggy’s stomach had finally stopped flipping. She wished she’d eaten some French fries.
“The fries were good, huh?” She winked at Malissa.
Her friend’s cheeks pinked. “Really good. You should’ve . . . next time you get the whole platter, promise. Did you find out what you wanted to know?”
“Maybe not everything, but it’s a good start.”
“Your dad’s not so bad. I watched him. I think he’s really sorry.”
“I hope so. Now I just have to explain to Gram and Regina that I went to see him behind their back.”
“Sucks to be you.”
She gave Malissa a playful punch in the arm, and they laughed.
“Gee, thanks.”
The girls didn’t have to wait long for the bus going northwest to Riverside. They climbed on, sitting near the front. The old driver had a kind face. He smiled at them in the rear view mirror. Peggy smiled back. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. She replayed their conversation over and over.
She had a lot to think about before she could share this with anyone. She only had a few minutes to get her feelings under control. At this rate, she’d be grounded until she turned eighteen.
“If you want to talk, just let me know.” Malissa’s whisper comforted her even more than the warmth from her presence in the seat beside her.
“Thanks.” Peggy didn’t open her eyes until they got to her stop.
Chapter 35
SEPTEMBER SWEPT past and then the last day of October was upon them. Annabelle grinned at her grandchildren. Tad dressed as a zombie even though he wouldn’t be asking for candy, to take Megan the Magnificent Sorceress Trick-or-Treating through the neighborhood. Peggy stayed home to dole out candy.
“No one likes peanut butter taffy, Gram. I don’t know why you bought them.” Peggy’s nose wrinkled in distaste.
“I like them. If the kids don’t eat them then I will.”
Digging through the Wallie World bag, she flopped a sack of candy on the table with a thunk.
“There’s another one here that’s never even been opened.”
“That’s all right. They were only ninety-nine cents. They freeze.”
Rolling her eyes, Peggy walked into the kitchen to deposit the extra bag in the freezer.
“At least you let me pick out the good kind.”
“I don’t know how you kids eat that sour stuff. It makes my teeth hurt.”
Peggy laughed. “I picked out chocolate, too.”
“Smart girl, you can never have too much chocolate. There’s enough candy here for an invading army.”
The doorbell rang. Turbo’s nails tapped on the hard wood floor in the entry. He stood between Annabelle and the open doorway.
“Trick or treat!” Behind the door stood a ghost, princess and clown.
“My, you look great.” Annabelle said, holding out the bowl. You can each take two.”
The greedy ghost took three then hopped off of the porch and ran. The clown unwrapped his candy right then, popping it into his mouth. A chorus of “Thank you’s” came from the remaining two.
She shut the door, joining Peggy in the parlor. They were watching an old black-and-white vampire movie. Peggy wouldn’t stop laughing.
“This is the hokiest thing I’ve ever seen. How could you be scared? It’s so silly.”
“It was very scary when I was young.” Annabelle popped in another taffy, savoring the peanut buttery burst in the middle. “It isn’t compared to the gory movies now. I can’t bear to watch anything made after 1965, too gory. They give me nightmares.”
“I don’t think any movie has ever given me nightmares.” Peggy shook her head. “No wait, when Tad was little, I saw Alice in Wonderland. The Jabberwocky gave me the creeps. I just knew he hid in the closet or under my bed. I was afraid to go to sleep. If I had to go to the bathroom, I’d jump into the middle of the room so nothing could grab my foot from under the bed.”
“When did the bad dreams stop?”
“When I got more scared of being awake.” Peggy’s eyes never left the TV screen.
Muting the sound, Annabelle leaned forward. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t remember why, but I do remember—Mom and Dad were drinking and yelling at each other. Mom told me to stay in my room. I peeked out of the door and saw stuff flying across the living room. A lamp first, then a big green ashtray exploded somewhere I couldn’t see. A table we used to put our feet on flew by the doorway. There was crashing, screaming, cursing. I closed the door and hid under my bed. I guess I figured the Jabberwocky wasn’t nearly as scary as my parents.”
Those poor kids.
“Was your mother hurt?”
“They both had red marks on their faces and arms. There wasn’t as much furniture in the house the next day. They acted like nothing happened at all.”
“Did your dad or mom ever hit you kids when they were dr
inking?”
Peggy sat for a moment in silence. “Not Dad. Mom broke a ruler over Tad’s boney butt once. What a screamer. She’d make you want to crawl under the floor and pull it over your head. When Dad left, she changed.”
“Words can hurt just as bad as fists.” Annabelle had felt their sting more times than she wanted to remember. “But when someone you love does both . . .”
“Yeah. That’s the really scary stuff. I don’t know if I’ll have kids, but I don’t want to ever make them feel afraid.”
“That’s why you won’t, honey.” Annabelle put her arms around her granddaughter.
The doorbell rang. Peggy took her turn, meeting Turbo at the door. Annabelle watched from the sofa. She wondered how they had survived the pain and anger. Stronger now, they had patched the family back together, and the pieces fit. An image came to mind of the crazy quilt she’d made as a newlywed. David said it looked like a bunch of scraps, hardly worthy of being called a quilt. But she knew better. Sometimes beautiful things came from odd pieces of fabric and it didn’t matter if the edges were a little tattered, it still kept you warm. Just like family.
At nine o’clock, they turned off the porch light and sat in the dark watching a John Wayne western, eating popcorn and drinking juice. Tad and Megan would probably be home in the next thirty minutes as other folks closed up their houses for the night.
“I love John Wayne,” Annabelle said.
“I know.” Peggy smiled.
“We used to go to the theater to see his movies. I always thought my grandpa looked like the Duke.”
“Yeah. I can sorta see that. Now we just watch him on DVD, over and over and over . . .” She rolled her eyes for her grandmother.
“They’re comforting. They make me laugh when I’m worried. His old westerns help me remember being young. He’s my hero.”
“He’s dead, Gram. Besides, you’re not that old. I meant to tell you I love the way you’re wearing your hair now. It makes you look even younger. Does Mr. Edwards like it?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you like him a lot?”
“He can be a very nice man.” Filling her mouth with popcorn, Annabelle returned her attention to the movie.
“But do you LIKE him?”