Wanderlove

by Malory, Belle

  “What was it like?” I eventually asked Dakota, wondrous.

  She grinned, moving closer to me on the rug. “Well, I grew up in New England, in the late eighteen hundreds. I married a man who was in the shipping business. His name was David.” Dakota’s eyes grew hazy as she remembered this ‘David’.

  “I suppose it was my natural instinct to marry a man who owned ships. And he was a good man. He indulged me by letting me travel with him. I. . .I loved him.”

  I smiled. From what I understood, love was not always found in a lifetime. Not true love, anyway.

  “We bore two children,” Dakota continued. “Two boys. Together, we had so many adventures on the high seas. Once, we even escaped a band of pirates!” Dakota chuckled now and then she sighed. “It was so dangerous. . .but so much fun. I loved my little family.”

  Her green eyes seemed to clear and her attention was brought back to the present. She looked up at me now. “So what was your favorite lifetime?”

  There it was, the question I hated, though I’d heard it many times before. I used to tell the members of my father’s troupe such outrageous lies about my past lives, just for the sole purpose of fitting in. The only person who’d ever caught me was Auntie Zetta. Then again, she could see inside people’s heads in a way that other gypsies couldn’t. While I told countless stories about the people I’d been in my past lives, she had probably looked inside my head to find there was nothing actually there.

  I was seven years old the first time she’d caught me. I’d been in the middle of telling the other children one of my riveting stories when she overheard. She’d taken me by surprise by yanking me by my arm and pulling me into one of the nearby RVs.

  “Lola, why do you tell such lies?” She held a bar of soap in her hands, which my worried eyes remained locked upon.

  “I’m not making up any lies, Auntie, I swear!”

  She crossed her hands over her chest, eyeing me dubiously.

  “Do you even know where Cleopatra is from?” she asked.

  “Course I do,” I tilted my head back, trying to appear very regal. “Back then I was a like a queen, but they called me a ‘phar-aoh’. And I lived in Egypt, next to the pyramids.”

  “Uh-huh.” My aunt continued to eye me and I grew nervous. “And did you have any lovers in that lifetime?”

  “Y-es.”

  “And who were they, eh? What were their names?”

  I grinned cockily before replying. “Caesar and Mark Antony.”

  I knew she wasn’t expecting my effortless answer.

  But then she pulled another one on me.

  “And how many children did you bear?”

  I twitched, nervous again. “Um, two.”

  “Really? And what were their names?”

  The tears formed quickly now. “Please don’t use the soap!” I cried. “I don’t have memories like the other children. Please don’t use the soap, Auntie!”

  I buried my wet face in her bosom as I clung tightly to her. My aunt set the bar of soap down on the counter, then kneeled down to my eye level.

  “Why do you lie, Lola? You know it’s wrong.”

  I sniffled a little, still afraid she might retrieve the soap. “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “I just wanted to be someone, too.”

  She clicked her tongue. “You couldn’t choose someone without such a high profile?”

  I shrugged. “I like Cleopatra. I could have been her in a past life, you never know.”

  “Well maybe if you’re a good little girl in this life, and you stop telling so many lies, you may get your memories back in the next one, eh?”

  Sadly, I nodded. “I’ll be good,” I promised.

  Ironically, I didn’t keep that promise. I only gave up lying for stealing, which was probably worse in any case. If my aunt’s words rang true, I probably wouldn’t be getting my memories back anytime soon.

  “So are you ever going to tell me?”

  I was brought back to the present. I observed Dakota waiting patiently for me to tell her about my favorite past life. I provided her with my usual answer.

  “There was nothing very special. I really don’t like talking about my past lives.”

  She nodded, accepting my answer. “I understand.” And then she quickly moved on from that subject to another gypsy pastime: tarot cards. As I noticed her pulling out a deck from a dresser drawer, I grinned. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Come on, you have to let me practice on you! If my career in fashion doesn’t work out, I’ll need something else to fall back on.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, fine, Madam Dakota,” I agreed. “But no touching. That’s cheating. And if you get the death card, you had better lie to me. Tell me it means love or money.”

  “Deal.” She laughed. “Now split the deck into three piles. . .”

  ~ ~

  The next morning, everyone said goodbye to Dakota over breakfast. Then, we all helped her pack her car before seeing her off. It was a little disheartening. My friend count just went from one to zero. Apparently Clearwater wasn’t growing on me.

  Almost immediately after she drove away, Miriam instructed me to get dressed, announcing we had plans today. I was extremely curious, but I didn’t question her.

  After showering, I threw on some of Dakota’s clothes, then waited for Miriam outside by her Lincoln Town Car. I eyed the car, thinking it was the epitome of an old person’s car. It didn’t help that it was the exact shade of burgundy only elderly people choose.

  Miriam took longer than me to get ready, but I knew it was because she never went anywhere without wearing a skirt and heels. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Miriam came strolling out of the house in a navy skirt with a cotton white blouse, paired with matching pumps. She often dressed the way she felt. I’m pretty sure navy means she felt determined today.

  She started up the car, and then informed me that we were headed for the nearest private school- in order to enroll me for the fall semester. I stared at Miriam as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she told me. “Who knows how long you’ll be here for? And if you’re going to live with me, you’re going to attend school. That’s my only rule. And it’s certainly not a difficult one to follow.”

  “Okay, I don’t have a problem with that,” I allowed. “But I don’t understand why it has to be a private school. Who knows what could happen? I just don’t want you to waste your money on something I may not be here to use.”

  I hated to talk about leaving, but I had to look at my situation logically. Whenever my father did finally get out of jail, he might be angry enough to come after me. I wish I didn’t have to consider that possibility, but it was better to be prepared for anything.

  And who knew if I could even bear staying here? I’d never stayed in any one place for very long, but then again, I’ve never been given the opportunity to try. Annika and Dakota certainly managed it well enough. They lived like normal people. I wondered if I was capable of doing the same.

  My grandmother merely snorted in response to my earlier comments. Under her breath, she muttered, “A good education is not a waste of money.”

  She eventually glanced over at me to meet my faraway gaze. She tapped on the wheel and fidgeted as she drove.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, noting her odd behavior.

  After a few moments, she sighed wearily. “Christo called last night from a county jail in Tennessee.”

  My lips parted as her news sunk in. “And you’re just now telling me!” I complained. “What happened? What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” she assured me. “Don’t get so worked up. He just wanted to know where you were. I told him you were staying with me. He had assumed as much, anyway. And then he said ‘okay’ and hung up before I had a chance to say anything else.”

  Confused, I asked, “That’s all he said? Just ‘okay’ and then ‘bye?’”

  “That’s all he said.”

  “That is so we
ird of him.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I thought so, too. But you know what, Lo? As much of an imbecile as your father is, I wonder if he was only calling to make sure you got here and to know you’re safe.”

  I shook my head, refusing to believe that. “You don’t know him like I do. He has an ulterior motive for everything he does. I’m sure he only wanted to confirm my whereabouts. Whether or not he decides to do anything is his decision.”

  “I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she said. “But in the meantime, you’re attending Frightwell and Black’s Academy for the Superior Student.”

  I raised an inquisitive brow. “Frightwell and what? That’s kind of long winded for a high school name.”

  My doubts about the school only increased when we arrived and started the enrollment process. The building was small. I found out only a handful of students attended; there were approximately one hundred students in the entire junior class. But my worst fear was realized when the dean handed my grandmother the tuition bill. I nearly choked, I was so appalled.

  “Are you kidding me?” I shouted, causing the dean to flinch. “Grams, this is ridiculous. You can buy a brand new car for this amount of money!”

  After my outburst, the dean politely excused himself. “I’ll let you two talk it over,” he said, quickly heading for the door.

  Miriam frowned, and stiffly crossed her arms. “It’s my money, little girl. Stop embarrassing me and let me pay the man.”

  “But-- did you see the bill?”

  “I know how much it costs. Both Annika and Dakota attended this school, which, by the way, is in the nation’s top ten percent for high performance. That’s saying a lot for this state.”

  “This is ridiculous, Grams. I would be just as happy attending a public school. Which costs nothing.”

  Miriam groaned. I could sense she was becoming a little aggravated with me at this point. “I know you don’t understand, Lola. But this is for my happiness, okay? To me, it doesn’t seem like a waste of money because I know a good education pays off in the long run. So will you just let me sign the check?”

  Grinding my teeth, I debated whether or not I should save my arguments. For some reason, this whole school thing was extremely important to Miriam. I could tell she wouldn’t let it go easily. And I doubted I could talk her out of it. I could, however, simply provide her with a point blank “no.” But I’m pretty sure that would just piss her off.

  “Fine,” I sighed, caving.

  She grinned and called for the dean.

  He walked into the office moments later. As soon as he saw the smile lighting up my grandmother’s face and the frown I adamantly wore, he perked right up.

  The dean handed us a stack of papers to fill out, and then asked me for proof of identification and transcripts in order to add copies to my student record. Before my grandmother could voice any of the concerns that were clearly written across her features, I pulled a forged social security card and birth certificate from my bag and placed it on the desk. I then added a fake transcript to the stack. “Here you are,” I told him, attempting to smile. The illegal documents were some of the few items I had remembered to grab before I ran away. Miriam raised a skeptical brow, but decided not to say anything.

  Later, when we were back in the car, she got it all out. “And just where did you get all those papers from, little girl?”

  “Christo knows a man.”

  “You do realize that’s a felony, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m a minor. Besides, if I had to get the real papers, I wouldn’t be able to enroll by the fall semester. Applying for residency can take weeks. And citizenship takes even longer.”

  She considered this. “Well then, I suppose the papers you’ve got will do for now.”

  I hid my smile, thinking it was ironic that she had a huge problem with me not going to school, but it was completely okay that I lied in order to get in.

  As we drove back home, I decided to ask Miriam about volunteer opportunities in the neighborhood. I’d been thinking about it and I figured that with the amount of crimes I’ve committed, I should probably find a way to repay for them. It would keep me busy, anyway. Being busy meant no time to think about Christo, something I desperately needed.

  “I think there is a Habitat for Humanity office that’s not far from here.”

  Miriam was quiet for a few moments. Then, out of the blue, she mentioned, “You know, Lo, you’re not a bad person.”

  She patted my hand gingerly. It was a nice gesture, but it made me feel uncomfortable. She didn’t know half of the things I’d done. And I definitely wasn’t about to enlighten her with my sordid history. I may have become a thief because of my father, but mostly, I’d chosen to steal for my own selfish reasons. I was no better than he was. The only difference between us was that I was now beginning to feel repentant.

  “Nonetheless, I think it’s a good idea,” Miriam added a few moments later. “The volunteer thing. If it relieves some of the guilt you’re carrying, I am all for it.”

  Me too, I thought. Let’s hope it helps. Because I don’t want to feel this awful anymore.

  FIVE

  The beach was surprisingly beautiful in its entirety. For the most, part it laid flat against the shore; the water was a dazzling color of turquoise, which darkened to a midnight blue as it deepened.

  Nearing the water, I could see a school of stingrays swimming against a small wave. Miriam told me this was the season for them. They kept to the shore mostly. She told me I needn’t worry if I decided to swim. Apparently, sting rays rarely bothered humans. Although she did mention to make sure I shuffled my feet whenever I stepped into the water. She called it “the sting ray shuffle.” I’m pretty sure she named it that herself.

  The serene atmosphere of the beach made my work bearable, enjoyable even, which was surprising. There was something internally satisfying about a day of physical labor. Maybe it was because I knew I would feel so relieved when I finished.

  I was, however, a little disturbed to find out how much trash people left scattered along the shore. I watched (extremely annoyed) as a family of five picnicked on the beach and then left behind their wrappers and containers- a blatant disrespect for the marine life. Either that or they saw me coming and figured I was their own personal “clean-up crew.”

  The volunteers were made to watch a preliminary slide-show before being assigned work. During the presentation, they talked about how thousands of marine animals die each year either because they eat trash, mistaking it for food, or because they become inescapably entangled in it and suffocated to death. I also remember hearing that marine habitats are continually being destroyed because of trash and bacterial contamination from sewage. I wanted to march over to the garbage-leaving family and shout these facts at them.

  Even sadder was when the video displayed the effects of the oil spill. The slide showed a pitiful image of a deceased dolphin, decomposing on the rocks at Queen Bess Island, not too far from here. The dolphin was filled with oil. It was the saddest part of the film. I actually had to turn my head away from the television. I noticed a few of the other volunteers had also become a little emotional. Some were even teary-eyed. Those images continued to preoccupy my thoughts throughout the day.

  Upon realizing that only a few pictures of dying animals could affect me, haunting my every thought, I heard the insecure voice inside my head say, Great, you’re becoming some sort of tree-hugging do-gooder. Christo would disown you for sure.

  I tried to think of some way I was benefiting myself for his sake. I smiled as I thought of how my pale skin would gain a healthy tan while I worked in the warmth of the sun every day. It would actually be a great benefit to me to have a little color in my cheeks. Miriam even remarked on how washed-out I’ve been looking lately.

  There, Chris. Now you can see I’m not completely selfless. There’s something in it for me.

  Ugh, I should never have thought of Christo. Thin
king of him always managed to bring a wave of guilt crashing down over me. To make things worse, there were a few clusters of people enjoying the beach in my nearby proximity. There was no way I was going to let someone see me get all weepy. I’d had my fill of unexpected emerges of heart-breaking emotions for today.

  I tried to block thoughts of Christo out of my mind. With all my might, I attempted to simply focus on my work. Somehow the physical pains of labor eased the awful discomfort I felt every time I thought of my father. Even if only a little.

  As I concentrated on cleaning up the debris around me, I noticed the most peculiar thing. There was a line of soda cans spread along the sand, about five feet before the water met the shore. They were in a perfect little line, like a row of ducks.

  Shaking my head, I began to pick each one up from the sand, curious to know what lunatic had decided to artfully leave their trash behind. I followed the trail of trash, wondering where it would lead to. It became tiring, the bending down, grabbing a can, bending down again, grabbing another can. I looked out into the distance. The trail seemed to stretch on for miles. It wasn’t long before the whole process became an extremely aggravating chore.

  After what seemed to be an hour, though was more than likely only twenty or so minutes passing by, I finally was led to the pier near Miriam’s house.

  The trail of soda cans simply came to an end.

  I spun around, looking for the culprit. No one was in sight. It was the weirdest, most useless endeavor I’d ever ensued in my life. Surely there must have been some reason the cans were spread out in a trail? Like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, except maybe a pot of aluminum instead? But no, there was nothing there. No explanation for the culprit’s insanity.

  I searched the horizon. My vision wasn’t crystal-clear without my glasses and I hadn’t thought to bring them with me. But as far as I could see. . .just more nothingness. Nothing but a huge array of expensive yachts floating alongside the pier like water-bred mansions.