by Sarah Tomp
After he left, you said, “He wants to call this the Saint Michael’s Room. Because he does battle against darkness.” You wrapped one of my curls around your finger, tight enough the tip turned white.
“I think we should battle the person who ripped us off.”
“He’ll get his,” you said. “What goes around comes around.”
“How can he live with himself, stealing like that?”
You smiled, still playing with my hair. “I love that you always expect the best of people.”
“Do you love that I want to rip out his eyeballs and feed them to the rats?”
Could you tell I got nervous every time the word love was used? It seemed like it kept popping up in our conversations, making things muddled and hard to read.
Besides the moonshine worries, I was getting confused about you and me too. It was getting harder to slow things down in the dark. True to your word, you didn’t push—although now I almost wished you would. Then I’d say no, for sure and for certain. Unless I didn’t.
“Mason, what do you want?”
“I’m thinking another blue,” you said. “But then red might feel left out.”
“Not Popsicles. Something real.”
“Thinking like that doesn’t do me any good. When I got sober I learned to be thankful. For each day. Each moment. That’s enough.”
“You’re working as hard as any of us. You must want something.”
You traced my fingers. “I wasn’t looking for anything more than getting through each day, when all of a sudden you showed up. And kept showing up until I had to pay attention.”
I remembered.
“You were all fired up and burning with an idea.” You paused, thinking, then said, “Seems like having someone ruin your plans for the future must be even worse than no one thinking you’ll ever do anything.”
I wanted to shake all those no ones who never believed in you.
“And it’s been fun. Being with you, but Bucky and Roni too. Y’all didn’t have a clue what you were doing when we started, but you sure were having a good time anyway.”
There was something else you weren’t saying. Something that rankled and bothered.
“Fact is, I love making liquor.” Your eyes focused somewhere else. “I love the process. The time it takes. The steps that have to be followed. The setting and fixing. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”
It felt like you were fading away a bit, lost in something I couldn’t see. “What are you going to do with your share of the money, Mason?”
“Some of it goes to Seth.”
“Why?”
“Like he said. I owe him.” You stood up, reached down and pulled me up. “Come on. We’re taking you on the highway. We’ve put it off long enough.”
I made you drive first, so I could sit back and observe. “Why are you going so fast? Aren’t you over the speed limit?”
“Barely.”
I couldn’t understand the nonchalance that greeted me out of every other windshield. “How do you know those other cars will stay in their lanes?”
“That’s the way it works, Lu. Everyone follows the rules. The way you like it.”
“What if they don’t? There is nothing actually there to force them in their own lane. We’re hurtling down the highway inches apart and how do we know it’s going to be okay?”
“Trust,” you said. “Faith. Whatever keeps you going each day.”
“And control,” I added. “Everyone needs to keep in control.”
“You can’t control everything. That’s when you have to trust.”
“But I’m a control freak,” I said.
“Maybe. Only because you see how things should be and try to get them there.”
“It makes me bossy.”
“I’d say strong.”
“And I’m obsessive.”
“Persistent. Determined.”
That sounded so much nicer. It was like you saw the real me, but from a different angle. “What else do you think you know about me?”
“You like things simple, not fussy.”
“So I’m plain?”
You shook your head. “Not plain. Things have to matter to catch your attention.”
I hope you know how you’d caught my attention.
I finally took my turn and drove the highway. I stayed in one lane and it took me twenty minutes to reach the speed limit, but I did it. You said I could, so I did. I kept going. So long the sun and the gas gauge drifted lower.
Driving worked like a strong cup of coffee. The more miles I went, the more awake I felt. We made each other laugh and squirm over silly stories of our past. Every time you finished a story, I wanted another. You seemed to feel the same way. When you said, “I wish I could wind back time and see little, sassy Lulu,” I felt an empty pang of something like hunger.
“Next exit,” you said. “Time to get off the highway.”
“We still have gas.”
“Can’t be much. Besides, we’re almost at the West Virginia border. I can’t take a minor over the state line.”
Trying to play like that didn’t rub me wrong, I said, “That’s the law you’re going to worry about breaking?”
“Gotta stop somewhere.”
Your truck rattled and shook in protest as I hit the off-ramp and rolled onto the bumpier road of wherever we were. You directed me down the road and through a few turns. It felt like we were headed into the mountain. “Pull in here.” You pointed at a large wooden building with a sign, MOUNTAIN MAGIC MEMENTOS, painted in bright orange letters.
“People come here for souvenirs?”
“And ice cream. It also helps to have the only public bathroom for fifty miles in either direction.”
I needed that myself.
When I came back out, you were talking to the woman behind the counter. Seeing me, you shook her hand, then led me to poke around the displays. That shop had the tackiest plastic pieces of uselessness imaginable, but it also had real art. Handmade quilts and dolls, the most delicate wispy dream catchers, and all shapes of wood carvings.
“Aren’t these nice?” You showed me a collection of wooden bowls.
“You could make those,” I said. “Yours would be even better.”
We wandered around looking at all the pretty things. “You could start your own shop, Mason. Maybe that’s what you should do with your share of the money.”
I set down the corncob pipe I’d been playing with. “You need a plan. Set a goal. That’s how you make things happen.”
“I have a goal,” you said. Gazed at me. Leaned in close. Whispered, “Root beer float.”
Mission accomplished.
After our treat, we went back in the shop, where you said, “Pick something out.”
I shook my head. “Don’t waste your money.”
“Get something to help you remember this day.”
“I’ll remember, Mason. I don’t need a knickknack.”
You insisted. Finally, I said, “A spoon. I’ll take one of those wooden spoons.” Shaped from a rich red wood, they were handmade with a swirl carved into the handle.
You laughed.
“What’s wrong with the spoon?”
“Not a thing.” You turned to the woman behind the counter. “Show her what I set aside.”
She smiled and pulled out a wooden spoon. You looked smug. “I knew that’s what you’d pick.”
You handed her the money, and she handed you a bag, saying, “Come back soon, now, ya hear? And here’s your keys. You must have dropped them.”
The sun hung low in the sky as we made our way back to your truck. Before unlocking the door, I grabbed you, pulled you in for a kiss. It had been way too many hours without. You pressed me against your truck, and I pulled you even closer, feeling greedy for the sweet taste of root beer and you.
Finally coming up for air, you said, “I don’t see why you have to go all the way to California, Lu. You could run away to somewhere closer. Like this nice place.”
“Where are we?”
“Here,” you said, kissing me again.
I leaned back. “You know I’m leaving, Mason. You’ve known it all along. You can’t be sad when I go.”
“Now you’re being bossy.”
“You mean strong,” I said.
“I mean rich.” You handed me the bag you’d been cradling in the midst of our kisses.
I peeked inside. My spoon sat nestled into a stack of bills.
The whole day had been planned by you. You knew Jolly Ann, who ran the shop. She was going to sell some moonshine in hokey little clay jars with XXX etched in the side, and pass on the rest to her friends. She didn’t want to mess with those kinds of dealings most of the time, but for old times’ sake she was willing to make a one-time purchase. Paid a decent price too. You were pretty darn pleased with yourself, weren’t you?
Me too. With you, I mean.
“Thank you, Mason.” My words weren’t enough, but the angle of the sun and the sound of jingly tunes drifting across the parking lot from the soda fountain and the soft of your T-shirt under my fingers—all of it mixed together, along with knowing I was going to leave you, made it too hard to say anything else.
“See how we did that?” you said when you dropped me off late that night. “We drove all that way and now we’re back, safe and sound.”
I snuggled into your neck so I missed the look you wore when you said, “When you drive off into the sunset, remember, the road comes back too.”
I remember. Do you?
26
I floated into work the next day. Part of me was still humming along the highway with you, zooming up and down hills, twisting around rocky corners, passing all the luscious summer green.
Roni noticed a difference. “Mother-of-an-alien, Earth to Lulu,” she said, shaking a box in my face. “Think you could land long enough to take these parts to Randy?”
“No problem, ma’am,” I said, jumping up and knocking my soda into her lap. My laughter wasn’t appreciated even though I offered to wipe her down with one of Sal’s chamois cloths that are always turning up in odd places. They’re supposed to be for polishing autos, but as nothing ever gets polished, we are highly suspicious of them.
Fact was, I was giddy and buzzed from our day of driving, and Roni was cranky and tired. Most of the summer our moods had been the other way around, so we weren’t quite sure what to do with each other in that cramped trailer.
It was almost the end of our shift when Seth showed up at the sales window. Jittery Peanut paced behind him, smoking a cigarette.
I took a deep breath and said, “Hey there, Seth. Can I help you?”
He stared so hard it made me squirm. “Hope so. I got an awful rat problem.”
Seth knew about our sales.
I worked hard not to let him see how that shook me. I knew there was no way you’d want me to sell him anything. Keeping my voice light, I said, “I am so sorry to hear that.”
Whenever we made a moonshine sale at the junkyard, the person ordered and paid at the window, then received a ticket to redeem. Either Roni or I would then meet him at the gate with the specially marked “poison” jar placed inside a brown lunch sack.
Those sales weren’t as big as any of the ones you’d made, but they were steady and adding up. Especially since Roni and I were the only ones splitting them: You’d said you didn’t want any part of them, and Roni figured she and Bucky would share their cuts anyway. As soon as Seth mentioned rats, Roni started making up a ticket.
But when I said, “I think you can get some decent traps down at the Supermart,” I saw her crumple the ticket. We were a good team. By this time she recognized him too.
“You sure you don’t have nothing here?” He smiled with his lips shut tight.
“Oh, she’s got something all right,” said Peanut.
Still wearing my junkyard smile, I said, “I suppose we could sell you some old spark plugs to throw at them. How’s your aim?”
“I was thinking poison might work.”
I pressed my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Sorry.”
He said, “I know what you’ve been selling here, Skip-to-my-Lulu.”
“Parts is parts,” I said, with a tinge of hysteria leaking out.
“You shouldn’t play with things you can’t handle.”
Then, like a giant, hairy angel, with missing teeth and broken fingernails, Dawg appeared beside Seth, standing way too close to be comfortable. Peanut had already stepped out of the way. Dawg growled, “Cats work best. For rats.”
“That’s true,” I said.
Roni added, “And they’re organic.”
Seth was smart enough to know it was time to go. As he stepped away from the window, he said, “How’s Mason’s truck running? Do you like that ride? Is it smooth enough for you?”
Bolstered by Dawg nearby I said, “Actually, I think Mason might trade it in. It’s got a lotta miles on it. He could get something better. Something new.”
I like to think I sounded pretty sure of myself. But as soon as they left I was hit with a wave of shaky trembling. Seth knew something even if I didn’t know what that meant. I reassured myself that he was your cousin. Always hanging around looking for you. He was probably just curious as to what you’d been doing. I should have told you right away that he’d come by.
Instead, I decided to run away.
From you.
I couldn’t let myself forget what was most important. I’d just had my best day ever with you, but that was one day. Only one day to balance out all the others. One day to match up against all the many days of sitting in the junkyard looking at rust and broken windows. Days of killing time selling to people like Seth.
I’d gotten so wrapped up in being with you, I’d forgotten what it was like to be me. On my own. I needed to go a whole day without you. To remember who I was taking to California. Me.
I talked Roni into going to the river. I was determined not to talk to you but knew it’d be easier with a solid diversion to keep me busy. Besides, I hoped it would get rid of her all-day frown.
By the time we got to the Queens’ Tube Trailer Spot, a clump of ominous clouds warned of a brewing thunderstorm. I said, “We’ll have to get out if thunder starts.”
“I didn’t think Little Miss Moonshine worried about things like lightning strikes,” said Roni.
As I opened the car door, a water bottle fell to the ground. I picked it up, then saw the XX mark. “I swear this damn moonshine keeps following us around. You have any blueberry-pomegranate juice?”
“How about warm Gatorade?”
I added a few inches of Jezebel Juice to the half a bottle of Gatorade left in Roni’s backseat. I took a big swallow, tasting the liquor lacing the salty sweet, then handed it to her. She looked at the bottle a minute, then said, “I better not.”
I shrugged at the way we’d switched roles. Then took another chug while we waited for a group of high school boys to get their tubes. I could already feel the heat of the drink relaxing me. In some weird, mixed-up way, I thought drinking proved I was in charge of my heart, not you.
When it was our turn, Tommy Queen greeted Roni with a big hug. “I hear you’re fixing to make our party something special.”
“All your parties are special,” said Roni.
“Nah. It’s just a bunch of drunks out to pasture most of the time. With Lullaby Breaker playing, we’ll be legit.”
As he tied our tubes together, I asked, “What sort of drinks will you be serving?”
Tommy laughed, wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Well, it ain’t gonna be no umbrella drinks. A couple of kegs, as usual.”
“I seem to remember the kegs running dry at one of your parties. You’re going to have a lot more people than usual if Lullaby Breaker is playing.”
He carried the tubes to the river’s edge for us. “That’s what we’re counting on.”
“What if someone had in mind to offer an alternative to the
kegs?”
“Lulu…” Roni shook her head.
“Because we know someone who knows someone who knows someone who could offer a little stronger homemade something on sale.” I played with my hair, feeling the little bitty buzz already. “Starts with moon, ends with shine.”
Tommy eyed me, then Roni, then me again. “Would there be an incentive for the hosts?”
“We’ll ask,” said Roni at the same time I said, “Of course.” I handed him my drink. “See what you think about this. Might be better on ice.”
As we stepped into the water, Tommy sniffed the bottle, then took a sip. As we floated away he yelled, “That’s got a kick. Let’s talk.”
“I swear, Lulu. You have one sip of that stuff and you’re fearless. Not to mention a flirt. Has Mason tried getting you drunk?”
I waved off her words. She was always trying to get the scoop on what we’d been doing in the dark, and I was always dodging her questions. I didn’t want her keeping score.
The water was low that day, the currents lazy. We drifted slow and easy, talking about Roni’s favorite songs and the new honey-pepper barbecue sauce Mom had made. I told her how my future roommate, Ashley, wanted us to buy matching comforters that cost more than I’d budgeted for my entire back-to-school list. We talked about Buttercup and Jimmy’s breakup and how they’d get back together next time they ran into each other. We talked about how Ollie and Randy thought no one knew they were a couple. We talked about anything, everything, and a whole lot of nothing.
Except what was on Roni’s mind.
When we reached the Bottoms, I asked, “Do you want to ride them? We’ll have to untie.”
Roni shook her head. “I don’t think I should.”
The timbre of her voice stopped me. “Roni, what’s wrong?”
Her face puckered up, like she couldn’t talk. Or wouldn’t.
I paddled toward the beach. At the shallow water, I slipped out of my tube and stood in the mushy mud, holding the tubes bobbing on the surface with Roni. “Spit it out.”
Her short, wet hair looked like a swim cap, as if she was one of those synchronized swimmers we used to try to imitate, making up our own choreographed water ballets. Back when we were ten and our biggest worry was deciding what to buy at the snack bar.