Poppy drove and River made us grilled cheese sandwiches with bread that had a lot of seeds and nuts in it and thick slabs of white cheese that smelled like gym socks but was actually really good. After we ate, Meredith said she needed a nap. River gave her a blue and yellow blanket with suns and moons and stars all over it and Meredith curled up like a cat and put her Walkman on and closed her eyes. Then River smiled at me and said, “You got everything you need, kid?” and I said, “Yes, thank you.” And he said, “Cool.” Then he moved up front to sit beside Poppy. He smiled at her and she touched the back of his neck, and you could tell they were in love by the way their eyes shone brighter when they looked at each other.
They played a mix-tape of the Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell and Neil Young and all that old stuff. River rolled a joint and they smoked it for a bit, and then River passed it back to me.
I took it from him and took a tiny puff. Then I coughed about a thousand times. I handed it back. Poppy and River were laughing, but not in a mean way. Then I laughed a little bit too and felt kind of sparkly inside.
I opened the tie-dyed curtains and watched the world go by for a while. All the grass and rocks and dirt looked dried out and sunburned. The sky was a great wide ocean that no one would ever drown in. I thought about how it’s kind of funny that people are still being hippies in 1992 when everyone knows that hippies were really just a fad in the sixties. Hanging out with hippies is kind of like stepping into a time machine. But it’s a time machine that only goes backward.
Gina had a dancer friend in Vancouver named Lucy who always wore hippie costumes. She had a long blonde wig that went down to her bum and flower crowns and peace sign necklaces. Lucy was nice. She used to tell me I was the luckiest kid in the world to have Gina as a mom. And she would always kiss Gina on the lips whenever she saw her. I think maybe Lucy and Gina were best friends.
I must have dozed off for a while, but I woke up suddenly because Poppy was swerving the eggplant all over the freeway. She screamed as gravel spat out from the tires and we came to a bumpy stop on the shoulder.
Meredith sat up and took out her earphones. “What is it? What happened?”
Poppy was crying and River tried to comfort her, but she swatted his hand away and was pretty much going ballistic. “I hit it! I hit it! I killed it!”
“Killed what?” Meredith said.
“A rabbit,” River said.
“Oh,” Meredith said. Her eyes welled up with tears. Probably because she had just finished reading Watership Down. Or maybe because she had the pregnancy hormones that make you cry when you don’t want to. Or maybe Meredith welled up because Poppy was having a freak-out of epic proportions and it was scary to watch.
Poppy pulled at her hair and rammed her head against the glass window; she ripped apart the beaded curtain and strings of beads flew around the van, pinging off every surface. She put her face into a pillow and screamed and screamed and screamed. River just stared out the windshield and watched the traffic whiz by. Finally spent, Poppy collapsed in a heap and put her head in River’s lap and sobbed. He smoothed her long hair and said, “Death is just a part of life, babe. Everything is meant to die sometime. That was its time.”
“We have to bury it,” Poppy said, looking up. Her electric blue eyes shone like a neon sign.
“Babe, we can’t bury it. It’s in the middle of the road. And we have to meet our shaman at seven.”
Poppy got out of the van and walked into the oncoming traffic like she wasn’t even afraid to be hit. She scooped up the rabbit in her skirt and carried it back to the van. The rabbit wasn’t very big. It was pale brown and its legs were all mangled and bent at odd angles, its face and ears were bloody, and its stomach was split open and parts of its intestines were falling out. Meredith got out and barfed into the burnt grass.
“We need a box,” Poppy said.
“Seriously? We’re going to do this right now?” River said.
Poppy gave him a look.
“All right, all right,” River said. “A box?” he began looking through the glove compartment. “How about a napkin?”
“NO! We have to give him a proper burial.”
“Pops …”
“We. Are. Burying. This. Rabbit.”
River sighed and came into the back of the van. He opened drawers and shuffled through cutlery, ropes, plastic bags. He held up a plastic bag. “Does it have to be a box?”
“YES!” Poppy yelled. She cradled the rabbit in the folds of her skirt as if she could bring it back to life by rocking it back and forth.
“I have a box,” I said.
“You do?” River looked at me like I’d just agreed to give him my kidney.
“Yep.” I opened my backpack and took out my shoebox. I don’t know why I had hesitated to offer it. It was just an old Converse box, nothing special. It was the stuff inside it that was special. I had gotten that mixed up for a minute. “Can I have that bag?”
River handed me the plastic bag, and I dumped the stuff from the box into it and then twisted it up and tied it in a knot and put it into my backpack. I handed the shoebox to River.
“Thanks, Tucker,” Poppy said.
“No problem,” I said.
River handed my box to Poppy and she carefully settled the rabbit into it. River grabbed a small shovel and we all marched about fifty feet away from the road in a little procession. Poppy led the way, then Meredith, then me, then River.
“Watch out for snakes!” River yelled.
Meredith screamed.
“Don’t worry. They’re more scared of you than you are of them,” he said.
“How can you possibly know that?” Meredith said.
River never answered. Poppy paced around a bit, “to feel the energetic resonance of the earth,” she said. Finally, she found a spot she was happy with, and River began to dig a shallow grave in the desert.
Then Poppy lowered in my Converse box that I’d had for as long as I could remember. Tears streamed down her face. “This here was a good rabbit,” Poppy said. “A strong rabbit. A fast rabbit. He had many friends, many family members, and he will be missed. Goddess bless this rabbit as he travels to the next realm.” Then she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” She took off one of her earrings and placed it on top of the box.
River rubbed her back a little bit and brought her into his body for a sideways hug. Then Meredith bent down and took a safety-pin off her shoelace that had three coloured beads on it and put it on top of the box. River scratched his forehead and took off the green bandana he was wearing and dropped that into the rabbit’s grave. I didn’t have anything in my pockets except an elastic band so I threw that in. River looked at me and nodded and then began covering the shoebox with dirt. We all stood silently while he finished and then for a few more seconds after he was done.
“Okay?” River said, looking at Poppy.
“Wait!” she said, then took off running into the desert.
“Snakes!” he called.
“I know!” she yelled back.
When Poppy returned, she had a small bouquet of wildflowers. Yellow and purple. She laid them over the grave and gave the stems a pat. “There,” she said.
“Okay,” River said, and held out his hand to help her up.
“Thank you, River,” Poppy said. “And thank you guys,” she said and pulled us in close and the four of us had a group-hug. I was squished against Poppy’s armpit, but it wasn’t so bad. She smelled like tea and spices and honey and orange peels all mixed together. “Mmm,” she said. Then she released us from the hug. She brushed away the hair that had fallen across her face. “Well, I guess we’d better keep on truckin’,” she said. “Would you mind driving now, River? I’m still a little shaky.” She held out her hand, and it was vibrating.
“Yeah, of course,” he said. They walked back to the eggplant holding hands. Meredith and I trailed behind. I looked at cactuses, and Meredith smoked part of a cigarette. I picked a little yellow flower. U
sually when I pick flowers I give them to Gina, but since she wasn’t there, I gave it to Meredith.
“You’re sweet, kid,” she said, and tucked it behind her ear.
Poppy and River stopped at a gas station in Flagstaff since it would be easier for us to keep heading west from there. River washed the windshield and Meredith went inside the store.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Poppy said to me.
“Thanks,” I said. “You too. With the vortexes.”
She smiled. “Here,” she said, taking off one of her hemp bracelets. “I want you to have this.” She tied it around my wrist and the blue and green beads woven into it sparkled in the sunlight.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve never had a bracelet before.”
Then Meredith came out and River put the squeegee away. We all stood in a little clump beside the eggplant.
“Thank you guys so much for the ride and lunch and everything,” Meredith said.
Poppy gave Meredith a hug and River gave me a hug and then they switched. While she hugged me, Poppy whispered in my ear, “Stay gold, Ponyboy.” And I didn’t know what she meant, but it made me happy. A little bit of Poppy’s sweet-tea BO clung to my clothes so that long after she and River had jumped into the van and waved their arms out the windows so that their arms looked like wings flying the eggplant away, I could still smell her.
20
Meredith and I were hot and dusty so we hung around the gas station for a while and washed our hair in the sink and drank a bunch of water and got submarine sandwiches.
Two vultures soared in a circle high above the gas station. I called Gina again. No one answered. I felt a little sick to my stomach. What if she had gotten worse? Or gone into a coma? What if she had died? I tried the number again. Nothing. And there was nothing I could do about it. Her not answering could mean a lot of things, but one thing it definitely did mean was that it was more important for me to find my father now than it had ever been before.
Meredith came out of the store then, all panicky. “Tucker, something bad just happened.”
“What?”
“I was in the bathroom, okay, and I put my purse beside the sink and then turned around for like, two seconds, to grab a paper-towel, and when I turned around again, it was gone.”
“Just now?”
She nodded. “Did you see anyone come out of the store with it?”
“No.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said.
“Maybe the person who took it is still in the store.”
We ran into the gas station. Everybody looked suspicious, but nobody had Meredith’s purse or a bag big enough to be holding it. Meredith and I were the only people in the store with backpacks. I went into the men’s washroom. No one was in there. I kicked the doors of all the stalls open. Her purse wasn’t in any of them or in the garbage can. I ran outside and around to the back parking lot and checked behind the bushes and in the dumpster. Then I went and looked at all the people getting gas and even asked one lady if she had seen anybody with a little green purse come out of the store, but nobody knew anything. Meredith sat against the brick wall, her backpack beside her. She was drinking an iced tea, and when I sat down beside her she handed me a Coke.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry about your purse. That really sucks.”
“I can’t believe it. Everything I had was in there. My wallet, my money, my ID …”
“At least you still have your backpack,” I said.
“Yeah, I have clothes. Great.”
I took a long drink of my Coke. It was ice cold.
“You still have money left?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“Don’t worry. I have enough for both of us.”
She sighed and started peeling off the label on her iced tea. A bad thought came into my brain then and I tried to shove it out, but it stayed put. “What?” Meredith said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like that. You’re looking at me weird.”
“No I’m not,” I said.
“You are.”
I looked away and watched a family with ten kids climb out of a big white van.
Meredith narrowed her eyes at me. “What? You think I made it up? You think I just said my purse got stolen so you would have to pay for the rest of the trip?”
I shrugged.
“Are you for real right now?”
“How did you buy these drinks if you didn’t have your wallet?” I said.
“I had money in my pocket. Jesus Christ, Tucker. Thanks a lot. Talk about trusting someone …”
“You stole Chad’s car,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, okay. I stole Chad’s car, all right. I stole Chad’s car so that you could get your stupid father fantasy over and done with and fucking grow up already!”
“Whatever,” I said.
“This is bullshit,” she said as she stood up. “This is the biggest bunch of bullshit that ever was. This whole trip is total bullshit. It’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t even know why we’re doing this.” She clutched her forehead like her brain was about to burst through her skull.
“We’re going to find my father, Sam Malone,” I said.
“Your father is not Sam Malone, you idiot. Sam Malone doesn’t even exist!”
I stood up. “Shut up. You don’t know anything about my father.”
“I know he’s not some stupid character in some stupid TV show.”
“Sam Malone’s not stupid!”
“Are you brain dead? There is no one named Sam Malone! He’s an actor! His name is Ted Danson!”
“But he’s … he’s based on someone real. Someone exactly like that in real life.”
She shook her head. “No he’s not, you dumbass. He’s based on a character someone made up. Someone wrote him! He’s not real!”
“He played for the Boston Red Sox,” I said.
“In the show. Not in real life.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“It’s just a stupid show, Tucker.”
“Cheers isn’t stupid.”
“No, you’re stupid. If you actually believe he’s your dad, you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. Either that, or you need psychiatric therapy.”
“Why did you come with me then?”
“Why did I come?”
“Yeah.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “If it’s so idiotic, then why would you even come?”
She threw her hands up. “Because I wanted to get away from that shithole we live in! I wanted a change of scenery!”
“You wanted a vacation.”
“Exactly. I wanted a vacation.”
“An all-expenses-paid vacation,” I said.
She shook her head and shot death-lasers into me with her eyes.
“Well,” I said. “How is it?”
“How’s my vacation?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged. “The weather’s here, wish you were great.”
It felt like a billion paper-cuts sliced into me all at once and then she dumped a bucket of lemon juice over my head. “You know what, Meredith?”
“What?” she stood with her hands on her hips.
“You’re an asshole.”
“At least I’m not delusional.” She spat onto the sidewalk.
I turned and speed-walked away. I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t know which direction I was headed, I didn’t know what road I was on. All I knew was that I needed to get away from her.
I ran across the freeway and walked and walked and clenched and unclenched my fists and felt my face and neck turn red. The world felt too hot and everything was stupid. After a while, I came to a Texaco. I bought another Coke and drank it and felt a teeny bit better. Then I didn’t know what else to do so I went to the payphone around the side of the gas station and tried Gina ag
ain.
“Tucker?” she picked up on the first ring.
“Hi,” I said.
“Don’t hang up.”
“Okay.”
“I want to know exactly where you are and who you’re with and then you’re turning your little butt around and coming straight back to Niagara Falls. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Do you understand me, mister?”
“I’m in Flagstaff, Arizona.”
“Where exactly?”
“At a Texaco.”
“I’m sending the police to come get you.”
“No! Don’t!”
“What else am I supposed to do, Tucker? You tell me.”
“I just need a few more days. We’re almost there.”
“Who are you with?”
“Meredith. But she’s—”
“Is that this Mary person you told me about?”
“Yes.”
“From the group home?”
“Yes.”
“How old is Meredith?”
“Sixteen.”
“What in hell are you doing, Tucker James? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“No. I’m trying to get to Los Angeles.”
“You don’t need to go to Los Angeles, Tucker.”
“Yes. I. Do.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t tell me anything about my father!” I yelled into the phone. Tears prickled my eyes. “For eleven years, I’ve been asking you about him and you won’t tell me a goddamned thing.” I wiped my nose on the back of my hand.
“Tucker—”
“What?”
“If you come home right now, I promise to tell you all about him.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Tell me now.”
“I … I can’t. It has to be in person.”
“Why?”
“It’s not the kind of thing you tell someone over the phone,” she said.
“Well, I have to go anyways,” I said.
“Your father is not in Los Angeles, Tucker.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I’m pretty sure.”
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