[Adventures of Anabel Axelrod 01.0] A Date With Fate

by Tracy Ellen

  I stood frozen for a moment, processing what she had said. My brain felt as cold as my hands. I’d drawn a blank for a second when she said the name Mike, but at the mention of my cousin and my sister, Anna’s meaning became crystal clear.

  Mike McClain was my one awful aberration of a boyfriend. When we’d broken up, I’d talked about it only with Anna, and only once, so she’d understand why he was out of my life forever. My family had been extremely surprised initially when we parted ways, but soon forgot about it when I appeared disinterested and never spoke of him. Since I was nineteen, the name Mike McClain was rarely brought up again in my presence. It had helped that his parents moved out of state due to a job transfer his second year in college. He’d never come back to Northfield again until now.

  This was officially the day from hell. Could it get any more unreal? It only made a terrible kind of sense that ten years later, this would be the one day the name Mike McClain waltzed back into my life. My life was turning into a “Final Destination” movie. Fate was trying its damnedest to kick my butt.

  “Okay.”

  Anna anxiously peered at me in the moonlight. “Okay? What does ‘okay’ mean?”

  I linked my arm through Anna’s and started steering her up the sidewalk, snuggling against her for warmth. “Okay means okay. Now I know. Thanks.”

  Anna dug in her feet to stop me. “Wait, Junior. Don’t you want to know what questions he asked? Do you want to hear his message? Do you want to know if he’s fat or bald, or married to a heifer and has ten brats?”

  “Nope.” I pulled her forward again, and this time she walked with me up to the house.

  Anna was grumbling, “I didn’t tell him anything about you or answer any of his questions, if you were wondering.”

  I may be cursed and doomed, but I couldn’t resist smiling at those grumpy words. “Never crossed my mind you would.”

  Anna grinned back while shaking her head. “Sometimes, I don’t understand you. It would drive me crazy not to ask questions if I hadn’t seen Reg in ten years. I want to know, June, how can you not be curious what he looks like now, if nothing else?”

  Standing under the porch light with a hand on the back door knob, I stared at my friend in silent deliberation. I relaxed, rubbed my hands, and softly blew out a long puff of white, cold air.

  ‘What the hell, it was a long time ago and this was my best friend asking.’

  “You remember how it was for Mike McClain and me for over two years, right?”

  I didn’t know what she saw written on my face or heard in my voice, but Anna nodded solemnly, eyes serious.

  I spoke matter-of-factly to get it over with. “I really thought I loved Mike with every fiber of my being. Yes, I was young and innocent, blah, blah, but I was never that young. It wasn’t some high school crush for me. I would have loved him forever, that’s how sure and right it was for me then.” I smiled wistfully at Anna, letting myself recall for a moment how it felt to be so young and completely in love. “I never doubted he felt the same way.”

  Anna’s face softened, but she stayed quiet other than to nod in encouragement.

  “I believed back then our bond, our connection, was something undeniably special. After all the men I’ve met since then, I know now how true that was.” I shrugged lightly. “At least, for me it was. I could live to be a million years old and I would still never get why Mike did what he did. Why he threw me away. Of course, I never bothered to talk to him about it, but you know the really strange thing about it all, Anna? I’ve always suspected somewhere deep down that Mike didn’t know why, either.”

  This was the hard part. I hated even to think about this period in my life, and rarely did anymore. I forced myself to push the words out. “At the time, I told you how he betrayed me. What I didn’t tell anybody was how rough it was dealing. I had to cut Mike out of my heart, so missing him didn’t eat me up like a cancer and kill me; it was that bad. I was sick to my core not having him in my life. My pride insisted I hide it from everyone.” I shrugged and crossed my arms. “So I did. I hid it every minute, of every hour, of every day, week after miserable week.

  “Finally, I cut off my feelings deep enough that it was actually true. I no longer needed him to feel whole and right. I thought about him less and less. I didn’t have dreams about him at night that made me hate waking up to face reality in the morning. Sounds dramatic, right? Yeah, well, I wish I was being a drama queen.” I smiled softly, reaching out to wipe a tear overflowing from Anna’s welling eyes. “You are such a little crybaby today.” She whipped off her mitten to give me the finger and I smiled again. “I say it’s okay because he’s nothing to me now, Anna, less than nothing. Alright?”

  Anna nodded quickly, wiping under her eyes with her bared hand. “I did know how in love you two were. Whenever I’ve thought about it over the years, I still can’t believe he did it.” She smiled a sad, little grimace. “I gotta hand it to you, though, Junior. You succeeded in fooling everybody, me included. I thought you got over him so quickly it was weird, but I was so pissed off at him that I was relieved for your sake. I’m really blown away to hear how bad off you were inside. I tell you what; I wish you didn’t have to be so freakin’ strong all the time. Sometimes it makes me feel like a whiny bitch always blabbing about my problems when you don’t, but I guess it’s just who you are.” She sighed and squeezed my arm. “Okay, I see what a dumbass I was to bring him up. Let’s go in and get that Margarita. What do you say?”

  “I say you, Miss Softie, are a gentleman and a scholar.” Grateful she’d changed topics; I pushed open the door and entered the toasty heat of Mac’s spacious back hall. “And don’t ever call yourself a dumbass. I reserved that right, remember?”

  Anna’s laughter trilled. “I thought you reserved the right to call me an ass pants?”

  “Well, duh dumbass, that too.”

  I was called a mean name and pushed from behind by an indignant Anna, only to be enveloped in a tight hug by my oldest sibling. I then got cheek kisses between getting harped at for wearing no coat. All this hugging today was wearing me down. I heard Anna close the back door. I also heard the sound of a car starting nearby.

  I took my head off Mac’s big sister shoulder. “Did we scare off Diego?”

  Mac held me away and gave me a mock incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? Diego Esteban Tomas Dos Santos trying to escape from a house full of women?” She chuckled at the absurdity. “We’d have to force him out. No, he’s working at the new market. That would be Candy you hear taking off. She stopped by to drop off that duffle bag for you on the bench, but didn’t stay. She has,” Mac raised her hand in quotes, “a mysterious ‘man meet’ tonight. Didn’t you see her out back?”

  “She must have left by the front door.” I laughed shortly, briefly feeling sorry for the man. I reached for the duffle bag.

  Mac slanted me an odd look, but turned to give Anna a hug. “Hi, heard you guys had an exciting day, huh?”

  Anna, still wiping her feet on the doormat, held her finger and thumb up in a little bit gesture. They laughed together. Anna excitedly started in catching Mac up on the news about Cheryl Crookston’s disappearance.

  I checked out the contents of the duffle while Anna and Mac talked in the background. The Glock appeared to have been recently cleaned. I could smell the solvent and oil. The two magazines Candy had snatched along with the gun were in the bag. One ten round magazine was still full, the other had only five rounds left. Unless she had brought her own ammo, she hadn’t shot the gun much. I idly wondered what her real motivation was for going on the Duluth getaway. Had to be man related, Candy was always chasing some unsuspecting sucker.

  Taking the gun from the bag, I verified there was no round left in the chamber. I couldn’t take chances with Candy that it was unloaded properly. Even while inspecting the Glock to verify no deposits were left in the chamber from earlier firing, I wondered why I bothered checking. This gun would be getting a thorough cleaning l
ater again by me, no matter what I found. It went back in the duffle.

  I looked up just as Mac swung her attention back to me. Dressed simply in a light blue wrap silk shirt and black leggings, my sister didn’t look much older than Stella tonight. Every time she moved her left hand, sparkling color dazzled the eye from the four-karat diamond knob she calls a wedding ring. Eyes and cheeks shining, Mac’s lovely face reflected the same light. She glowed with contented happiness.

  I smiled, teasingly. “So, what’s on the dinner menu tonight?”

  “I made nachos.” Mac laughingly rolled her eyes when Anna and I each shouted out “Nachos” at the same time she’d said the word. “Jazy’s in the kitchen right now making Margaritas.”

  Mac doesn’t cook your average, normal meals; her idea of dinner is appetizers. Her most frequent top choice is nachos, but sometimes she messes with our heads and it’s a layered taco pip or quesadillas. We play a guessing game which of the three it will be. It’s similar to Rock, Paper, Scissors. The game is all in good fun, but Mac’s gently discouraged by all the family from hosting Thanksgiving.

  Anna headed for the sound of the blender. I started to follow, I could hear the tequila calling my name. The minute Anna cleared the back hall doorway, Mac had other ideas. She gripped my shoulders. We were eye to eye because she was in flats and I had on high heels.

  “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for watching over Stella. I know you’d take a bullet for her, but on Freddy’s grave, I swear to God if you ever do, Bel, that bullet had better kill you or I will.”

  We touched foreheads lightly, even as I smiled. I love convoluted woman logic that makes such perfect sense. “Sure, Spook, whatever you say.”

  Mac smiled back. “What, Freak? You don’t think I’ll kill you? Try me.” She pulled back. “Enough mush. Now, how come I haven’t met this Superman Luke and what’s up with the Candy Coater?”

  Seeing Mac’s sly, humorous smile, it struck me how much Mac and Stella look alike with their expressive, aqua-blue eyes and their matching noses, elegant with a slight bump near the bridge. Mac recently started coloring her dark hair a pale, golden blonde. She said it’s to cover the gray. Since NanaBel was white by age forty, I’m not surprised. It still takes me a minute to recognize the blonde Mac in public. I have walked right by her on the street more than once. It looks good on her. I don’t know why she gets mad that Reg calls her Malibu Barbie. I think it’s a cute name.

  My oldest sister is persnickety. She’s immaculate, from her personal grooming and stylish clothing, to her overall spotless house. Nothing falls out of her kitchen cupboards in surprise when you open a random door and you can eat off the floorboards of her vehicles. I didn’t let these flaws stop me from adoring her. I know it’s that responsibility-driven, overachieving, first kid birth order issue that she can’t help. Not everyone can be the well-adjusted middle child.

  What Stella didn’t inherit from her mother is Mac’s clever ability to size up a situation in a glance, and her innate understanding of the words subtle and nuance.

  Mac took in my outfit of choice for tonight and added, “Oh yeah, and I like the innocent cupcake look. Doing a little damage control, are we?”

  Smiling broadly, I held my arms out and curtsied in obsequious response to her mental acuity. I was a sweet, feminine confection in a high ponytail, pink silk top and tight, winter white slacks. I was even wearing brown heels. No all black for me tonight; looking like a dominatrix was no way to help the cause.

  I was sure the Northfield grapevine drums were beating loud along the Mohican. I’d be getting all sorts of crap from friends and acquaintances tonight. Waiting around to go out in public wasn’t going to do me any good. Mac was spot on; I was planning on showing John Q Public things couldn’t have possibly been as bad as they’d heard at Bel’s Books just a few hours before.

  I skimmed over the Luke part of Mac’s question by saying he’d be at our family dinner the next night and could decide for herself if he was Superman or Jimmy. I pointed at the duffle and indignantly told her what Candy had done.

  “That shit’s so weak! She’s out of control. You never mess with someone’s gun.” Mac shook her head in disbelief.

  “I know, right,” I agreed, smiling tightly.

  From the doorway, Jazy said, “Candy needs her ass kicked up between her shoulder blades. Margaritas are served, my sisters. Now Bel, start talking.”

  I moaned while following them into the kitchen. “Ah man, can’t we do a mind meld instead? I just want to eat, drink, and be happy. Then go dance and not say a word for hours.”

  Jazy patted my shoulder. “Embrace the suck, Anabel. Embrace the suck.”

  Mac and Jazy laughed merrily at my expression.

  Kenna wasn’t joining us and I was relieved. I love my second oldest sister, but there has been a constant strain between us due to old history and bad blood that prevents me from fully relaxing whenever she’s around. It may have something to do with the fact she’s pals with Candy. It may have something to do with the fact that she’s changeable and unreliable. She and Mac get along like oil and water. Mac’s pretty straight and Kenna carries around her own pharmacy. You could take your pick of reasons; I was simply glad she wasn’t around tonight.

  The six of us were a lively group sitting around Mac’s kitchen island on bar stools eating nachos and drinking margaritas. Stella and Anna took turns filling the others in on the blow-by-blow recounting of the day, so I didn’t have to talk much after all. I was able to kick back and mostly listen while my five favorite females excitedly dissected the mystery of the missing Cheryl Crookston and the horror story of Larissa’s ex.

  I smiled in the right places and occasionally commented, but I found myself still feeling like I was outside my own skin looking in. I wanted to relax, but I pushed away my drink. Apparently, the tequila wasn’t calling my name. My right foot was jiggling my leg up and down like it was motorized.

  I took a deep breath and tried to center in on what was causing my unrest. It was hard to determine if I was still experiencing an aftermath from today, or if I was anxious over something else. I concentrated on breathing slowly in and out, the girl’s conversation a pleasant buzzing in the background. I emptied my mind of any conscious thoughts of Luke, or any of the other people bugging me from today.

  I didn’t come up with any answers, but I was ready to go when the dishes were stacked neatly in the dishwasher and Mac announced we should hit the road. I felt like a livewire strumming with energy.

  Our group walked Stella out to her studio door and said our goodnights. She was having a friend over to watch a movie. We had to tease her when she confessed it was a male friend, who was not really just a friend, yet nothing more than a friend, at this moment in time. After that clear answer, the most she would say was his name was Eric George Jasnik and he was totally cute.

  Everyone climbed into the van, leaving me the front seat. I guess it was my special night.

  Before I opened my door, I whispered to the waiting Stella, “Hey, is this the dude you’ve been helping so much lately in the Sci-fi section?”

  She grinned, putting her hand up above her head. “He’s about so tall with blondish-brownish hair and a butt courtesy of lacrosse?”

  I grinned back. “Ah, male sports are a wonderful thing. Don’t do anything I would do, you hear?”

  “When am I going to be old enough to do what you would do?” Stella laughingly demanded.

  Squeezing her shoulders, I gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. I opened the van door. “Silly girl, when you’re my age, of course.”

  Stella sputtered, “You’ve been saying that for years, Auntie Bel, you damn brat!”

  I laughingly waved and Tre J honked lightly as we left. Stella waved back before climbing the stairs to her studio. By habit, like a well-rehearsed dance move, all five of us craned our heads to watch until we saw her door close and Stella was safely in her apartment.

  Chapter XII

 
; “Smackwater Jack” by Carole King

  Saturday 11/17/12

  8:40 PM

  We were on our way to the Castle Rock N’ Roll Bar and Grill, or The Rock as it was called by us locals. It was about ten minutes north of Northfield. The bar sat at the lonely junction of two county roads miles from nowhere. It was a hot spot known for hiring local bands great to dance to on the weekends. The Rock packed the house nuts to butts, but not until closer to ten o’clock most Friday or Saturday nights.

  With all the pent-up energy I was feeling, I didn’t care if we were unfashionably early. We’d get a table and I could lose myself in dancing for a couple of hours on a less crowded dance floor.

  A Colbie Caillat song came on and Anna started us off “I do, I do, I doing” from the back. Soon the van was swaying on its axles, as Tre J whizzed us out of town.

  It was fun to cut loose and act wild, singing to the loud music and seat dancing from the waist up. It didn’t take long for Mac and Jazy to start changing the words of the song to something nasty. Anna was screaming with laughter from the very back seat while Tre J pounded the steering wheel. Tre’s belly laugh was so contagious, soon we were all screaming in our laughter.

  I don’t think any of us knew what had happened when our van was first rammed abruptly off the road. Dangerously tilting, it changed our wild laughing into real screams of confused terror.

  The front and back wheels on the passenger side hit the sloping, asphalt shoulder at sixty miles per hour, causing the van to violently rock and sway.

  “Hold on!” Tre J bellowed. She did not use the brakes, but took her foot off the gas to slow us down to a safe speed. At the same time, she fought the steering to keep the van steady and not roll or flip us, as we sailed half on and half off the road. The shoulder was paved here, and not the deeper gravel that would have almost guaranteed the van rolling at this sloping grade.