by Raj, Carol;
“No problem, mister. As soon as we get the car started, we’ll be out of your field.”
A door slammed. Then the truck’s engine turned over with a solid vroom. Tendrils of black exhaust passed above Muriel before they dissipated into the atmosphere. The truck moved off down the road, the sound of its engine fading. Even the bark of the dog could no longer be heard.
“Kevin? Kevin!”
The sound of whistling was moving away.
Muriel took a tentative step out. The mown grass of the field felt like plush carpeting beneath her feet. It bore no resemblance to the grass in her yard that was growing taller every minute she was away, just to spite her. She was quite sure of it. Maybe God hadn’t forgotten her. Maybe he was arranging for someone to mow her lawn while she was gone. Wouldn’t that be nice.
In the meantime, she had to decide what to do.
First she had to pick up her things, put them into her purse, and then walk back up to the road. Would she make a right turn onto the road and walk back to Kevin and the car? Or would she make a left turn and walk to wherever Kevin purchased the gasoline? There must be a phone there. But how far had Kevin walked with his long, lanky legs and his youthful energy? And would she be able to get that far before the darkness of night enveloped her?
Oh, well. She had things to do before she started up the incline. Maybe the answer would come to her. The first thing she picked up was Natalie’s mirror, then her purse, then her wallet, then her house keys. She turned to start up the incline then stopped, looking back to double check. She couldn’t afford to leave something important behind. Farther out in the field a shiny object reflected the sun’s bright rays.
She had her mirror. She had her keys. What could that glittering object be? She walked over and bent down to take a closer look. Keys. Well, that was strange. Hadn’t she just put her house keys in her purse? Muriel opened the clasp and looked inside. Yes, her house keys were definitely there. She turned the keys over with her foot. An attached aquamarine bauble had been face down in the grass. Well, of course. These were Roxanne’s keys. Muriel had automatically put them in her purse when she’d turned the car off. Now she remembered.
She picked Roxanne’s keys off the ground, and slung her purse onto her shoulder. Using both hands, she steadied herself as she scaled the incline that led to the road, grasping at a tall weed here and a foot-high sapling there. She stumbled twice before she stood at last on the edge of the road, its smooth horizontal surface a welcome relief after her ascent.
She looked to her left. Kevin had gone to a lot of trouble to get gas. He had obviously walked a long distance. He had spent all his own money. What good would gas be if he didn’t have the car keys? And hadn’t he just saved her from that old man? It wouldn’t be fair to desert him now. Kevin promised Vernon they would be gone by night. Vernon wouldn’t be happy if they weren’t. Who knew what a man like Vernon might do to a teenage boy? A teenager she was growing increasingly fond of.
Life didn’t give one much choice. When one got to the top of that hill, one should be free as a bird going wherever one wanted. But Muriel couldn’t. Because the choice between right and wrong was always mixed in, even in the choice between left and right.
Yesterday Muriel just wanted to go back to her lonely little house. Then she saw a sunset. And this morning she heard birds. And now she had no desire to go back to her house at all. And even less desire to sit all by herself night after night, and watch the news, and have her meals at six and noon and six, and wait to be buried at a funeral only a few people would deign to attend.
If she could go anywhere in the whole world, she would live with Natalie. Move into one of those spacious bedrooms on the second floor. They would be best friends again. Forever friends. Just as she had always assumed. Lord, how can I make Natalie appreciate me? How can I make her proud?
Her precious daughter. Her only child. They lived in neighboring towns, yet it seemed they were worlds apart. Muriel had been asking God for someone to mow her lawn. If she promised to get down on her hands and knees and cut the grass herself with a pair of scissors, would God have time to mend her relationship with her daughter instead? Oh, Lord, make Natalie right with me. Make her right with You. She and Chloe are all I have. Oh, why was she bothering to pray? God couldn’t even arrange a simple matter like getting her grass cut. With a deep sigh, Muriel turned to the right and started walking back to Kevin.
9
Muriel was beginning to think she had walked too far and missed Kevin altogether. All the fields looked exactly the same. Even the stands of trees rose like identical islands in the sea of green grass. Lord, help.
The sound of whistling came from ahead. She peered over the edge of the slope.
Kevin was visible through a gap in the tree trunks. He stood by the open hood of the car. A gas can lay on its side, cap off.
Muriel yelled from the roadside. “I thought you said you didn’t know enough to look under the hood.”
“You, again? Thank goodness, Mrs. B. I didn’t know what to do. I was worried that old man had you chained up in his basement or something. He gives me the creeps.”
“I heard you talking to him on the road. That was quick thinking on your part. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Kevin’s voice rose from the inside of the car’s hood where he was staring intently, screwdriver in hand.
She had just thanked Kevin for lying. He was good at it, that was for sure. Quick thinking and convincing, too. She hesitated before she spoke, forcing her voice to sound offhand and nonchalant, as if she were only asking a simple question, not challenging his truthfulness. “So what’s with looking under the hood?”
“Mrs. B, I told you: I don’t know much about cars. But I do know you can start them without a key. I saw it in a movie.”
“Sounds like you watch a lot of movies. And you know my real name now. You can call me Mrs. Smith instead of Mrs. B if you want.” Muriel inched down the hill.
“I kind of like calling you Mrs. B. I got used to it.”
Muriel’s right foot slipped. “Ouch!” She rolled the rest of the way down the hill. Her purse came loose from her grasp and made its own way down, turning over and over as it went. The clasp came undone, the mouth of the purse opened, and there were her belongings scattered all over the ground for the second time in one day. She really did need a purse with a more reliable clasp. Maybe even one with a zipper.
“You OK?” Kevin barely looked up.
“I think so.” Muriel sat up and rubbed her right ankle. “My ankle hurts a little, but I think I’ll be able to walk in a minute or two.”
“No rush. It’s not looking too good here anyway.”
“Is that why you’re looking under the hood? I thought all we needed was gas.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But then I couldn’t find the keys. And then I remembered a movie where this guy starts the car by moving wires around. So I thought I’d see what I could do.”
“Well, don’t worry. The car keys are in my purse. Or at least they were there a minute ago.” Muriel waved her hand to encompass the area where the contents of her purse were scattered. “I don’t know where they are now. They can’t have gone far.”
Kevin walked over to Muriel’s purse. He picked it up and turned it upside down, shaking it several times. “Mrs. B, there’s nothing in your purse. Not one blasted thing.”
“I know. But the keys were in there just a minute ago. I’ll pick my things up as soon as I can stand. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” Muriel rubbed her ankle, wincing as she touched the tender part.
Kevin scowled, raised his eyes up in an exaggerated roll, and shook his head.
The Natalie eye roll. That’s what she and Howard used to call it. It started when Natalie was twelve. They had expected her to outgrow it, but so far, she hadn’t. Maybe when she turned fifty.
“I suppose I could give you a hand. Again.”
“That would be nice. Thanks. I’m sorry to be s
uch a bother.” Muriel grabbed Kevin’s proffered arm. She pulled herself up, wincing as she put weight on her ankle. “Oh, dear. Help me over to that oak tree, would you? I’ll lean on it for a while. I’m quite sure I’ll be better very soon.”
“All right, Mrs. B. Whatever you say. My whole life’s ruined anyway. I might as well be your slave.”
Muriel smiled. “My goodness, Kevin, you sound so much like my daughter when she was your age. She was a handful. Still is.”
“I suppose you want me to pick up all your belongings, too?”
“Would you?”
“No point in your hobbling all over the place when you can get some loser like me to do your work.” Kevin glared at her then picked up her purse and started putting the scattered items in, looking each one over first as if it were a foreign object.
“Do you mind?” Muriel’s voice rose with her irritation level.
“Mind? What are you talking about? You said you’d appreciate my picking your things up. What’s the matter with you, Mrs. B? Do you want me to help you or not?”
“Well, yes, I do. But is it necessary for you to scrutinize every item? Those are my personal belongings.”
“They’re not very personal if they’re lying all over the ground, are they?” Kevin picked up another object and let out a prolonged whistle. “Wow! This is beautiful. My mom would love this.” He held up the mirror Natalie had given Muriel. “Is it like expensive or something?”
Muriel shook her head. “Nope. Sorry. It’s pretty close to worthless. But to me it’s the most precious thing in the world. My daughter bought it at a yard sale when she was eight years old. She thought it must be worth a lot of money because of all the colored glass bits on the back.”
“Looks like it’s worth a lot. Those glass bits sure do sparkle.” Kevin moved the mirror into different positions as he stared at it.
Muriel laughed. “Natalie paid seventy-five cents for it. She bought it just down the street from my house. How much could it possibly be worth?”
“So if it’s not worth anything, why do you keep it?”
“My daughter liked me when she was eight. I’m hoping if I carry that mirror around long enough, she’ll like me again.”
“That sounds silly.”
“Yeah. I guess it does.” Muriel bit her lower lip.
“Your daughter doesn’t like you now?”
“I was just a housewife and a school teacher. My daughter is not impressed.”
Muriel couldn’t even remember how many years ago Natalie stopped respecting her. Twenty-nine years had passed since Natalie turned sixteen and chafed under parental restrictions on driving and dating. Thirty-five years since she begged Muriel not to volunteer for homeroom mother because she wore glasses and everyone would call her “four eyes.” Natalie’s teacher that year wore glasses, too. The contradiction hadn’t bothered Natalie at all.
“I like my mom. And I like Uncle Clarence. It’s my dad who’s a pain. Always after me about something.” Kevin’s voice rose to falsetto. “’I can’t believe how irresponsible you are, Kevin. I can’t believe you expect us to put somebody so irresponsible on our car insurance. What do you think we are? Made of money?’ You see what I mean?”
“Parents can be like that.”
“Yeah. Well.” Kevin turned the mirror over in his hands again. “You mean you never had some sort of antique dealer look at this mirror? Like on that TV show? You might be rich.”
“My friend Roxanne has always wanted to go on that show. She even applied for tickets. But I wouldn’t have anything to take. I doubt if she does either.”
“Does your friend know much about antiques? Maybe she could look at your mirror.”
“She did look at it once. She said it was just junk, and I should toss it out.”
“Well, gee, Mrs. B. If you ever do go with your friend to that show, take your mirror. I would.”
Muriel laughed. “Any appraiser worth his salt would be amazed at my naiveté. Who would sell something with real jewels at a yard sale? In my neighborhood? But that seventy-five cents Natalie paid? It was every single cent she had in her piggybank. And she spent it all on me. One hundred percent of her savings. It made me feel so special. I walked around with a smile on my face for days. I told you: She liked me when she was eight.” Muriel sighed. “Oh, Kevin. I thought Natalie and I would be best friends forever.”
“Well, the mirror’s pretty anyway. Even if it is cheap. Looks kind of like Christmas with all the red and green sparkles on the back. My mom would like it, I’m sure.” Kevin started to put the mirror into his jacket pocket.
“Kevin! Please! Put that mirror back. You can take all my money if you want. But please don’t take my mirror.”
“Mrs. B, you’ve got a bunch of one-dollar bills here. Chump change.” Kevin scowled, but he placed the mirror carefully in Muriel’s purse.
Muriel moved away from the oak tree and winced. “My ankle’s feeling a little bit better. I seem to be able to stand on it. I just don’t know how far I can walk.”
“Well, we’re not driving anywhere either, Mrs. B, ’cause I still don’t see the car keys. I don’t want to stay in that old man’s field another night. Do you? Even if he did say we could. Maybe you’d better help look for those keys.”
“There should be two sets. My house keys and Roxanne’s car keys. They’re both heavy. They couldn’t have blown away.”
“Well, I don’t see any keys at all. I didn’t feel too good last night, and I didn’t sleep all that well, and the doctor says I’m supposed to get a good night’s sleep every single night, and I don’t feel good right now. And anyway, I’ll probably die of starvation. So what’s the use?” Kevin slumped down against the side of the car.
“What do you mean you don’t feel good? You look OK.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. It’s none of your business.”
“OK. I’m sorry I asked. I was just concerned.”
“Why?” Kevin glared at her.
Good question. Muriel shrugged. “I don’t know. I just like you. I dealt with all kinds of teenagers when I taught high school geometry. You remind me of one of the ones I especially enjoyed working with. His name was Patrick. I flunked him the first year he was in my class. The second year I got to know him really well.”
“Bet he didn’t like you very much if you flunked him.” Kevin got up and stretched. He started wandering over the field again, head down, looking for the keys.
Muriel noted the position of the sun in the western sky. It was already halfway through its steady descent. There was no stopping some things. The course of the day. The course of life. If only she could be a time traveler. Go back into the past. Treat her mother with more respect and appreciation. Raise Natalie to be kinder and more forgiving of others’ foibles. Maybe if they’d had a dog when Natalie was young. Some little thing like Roxanne’s Pekingese. Something Natalie would have had to feed and brush and walk. Maybe Natalie would have learned kindness then.
Would Muriel have allowed Patrick to pass after his first year in her class? Give him a D minus as all the other teachers had? No. He didn’t know geometry any better in June than he had at the start of the school year in September. He hadn’t even tried. If she were able to go back, would her life be happier now? Different probably. Not necessarily happier. And maybe if she hadn’t made some mistakes, she would have made other ones, equally as egregious.
Kevin’s despondent mood vanished as quickly as it came. “Hey! Look! I found some keys!” He straightened up, raised them in the air, and shook them as if they were a grand prize.
“Those are my house keys. I can tell from here.”
“How can you tell from way over there?”
“Roxanne has a blue jewel on her key ring. I just have a plain metal ring.” Muriel paused. “I used to have one of those half hearts that said ‘While we are absent one from another.’ I gave Natalie the other half. She took my half away once when she got angry. Then she threw
both halves in the garbage. That was years ago.” Muriel had never told anybody that before. Not even Howard.
“No offense, Mrs. B, but your daughter sounds like an old grouch. I don’t think I’d like her very much. I’m glad she’s not my mom.”
“She’s not that bad.” Even as the words left Muriel’s lips, she realized they were not true. Natalie wasn’t so much a grouch as she was a snob, always looking down on others. Especially her mother. But the words Muriel just spoke were not a lie. They were more like wishful thinking. A hope for the future. Just because a hope was delayed didn’t mean it would never come true. Oh, Lord, bless Natalie. I need her in my life.
Kevin was turning the keys over and over in his hands. “Guess you’re right. These keys are on a plain old ring. Doesn’t look like car keys either. Looks like house keys just like you said.”
“Well, I needed to find those anyway. In case I ever do get back home. Now look for a light blue jewel. Like an aquamarine, not a sapphire.”
“Well, that helps a lot. Do I look like a jewelry expert to you?”
“Here. I’ll help. I know what Roxanne’s keys look like.” By taking long steps with her left foot and short steps with her right, Muriel could minimize the amount of time her bad foot had to support her weight.
“Here they are!” Roxanne’s keys had implausibly landed on the other side of a tree trunk. “See? A light blue jewel thing. Now we can start the car. Thank goodness. I don’t want to spend one more minute in that old man’s field.”
Kevin reached out to take Roxanne’s keys. His hand trembled.
Muriel looked into his eyes. “You feeling OK?”
Kevin scowled. “I told you I wasn’t. Why you keep asking me? You’re not my mom.” He went to the driver’s door, pulled it open, and sat down. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. He winced at the grinding noise the car made. “That doesn’t sound very good.”
“It never made that noise when Roxanne started the car.”