Paint Chips

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Paint Chips Page 20

by Susie Finkbeiner


  Carrying the candle, I went to the front door. The doorknob was cool on my fingertips.

  “You’ve got to help me get off this mountain,” I prayed, turning the knob. “You owe me that much.”

  Headlights flashed through the window.

  My father was home.

  Dot – 40

  The motion of the car caused my stomach to flip flop. I feared that I’d get sick. She drove around as if she forgot where we lived.

  “Mom,” Pete asked. “Where are we going?”

  “I just need to think,” she answered. “What are we going to do?”

  Eventually, she drove the car up our driveway and into the garage. Without a sound, the three of us rushed into the house.

  She ran from room to room locking doors, checking windows, securing us from a danger that Pete and I didn’t understand.

  A vehicle rumbled down the road. Pete looked out the window.

  “No! Don’t look out the windows. Don’t turn on any lights or the TV,” she whispered, panicking. “Just go to your rooms and grab a few changes of clothes.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We have to go somewhere else for a few days.” She looked in my direction without really seeing me. “Just hurry. Warm clothes. Underwear. Toothbrush.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, confused. “You’re scaring me.”

  “You know what, don’t worry about it. Let’s just go. We’ll get new stuff later.”

  I followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She opened her closet and spun the combination lock on the safe. Grabbed something and put it in her coat pocket.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, okay, Dot,” she said. She stood and rushed back down the steps. “Get back into the car. I want the two of you to lie down on the seat until I tell you it’s okay to sit up.”

  “What’s going on, Mom?” Pete asked, following her. “Is this about the man at the restaurant?”

  “Yes.” She guided us out to the car. “He’s very bad.”

  “Who is he?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Why don’t we call the police?” Pete asked, closing the car door behind him.

  “They won’t help us,” she answered, backing out of the driveway.

  Pete and I put our heads down as soon as we got into the car. I could see the side of my mom’s face. She checked the rearview mirror every few seconds. The reflection of her eyes in the mirror allowed me to see her fear. I looked away.

  “We’re going to have to stay here tonight,” she said, bringing the car to a stop after what seemed like hours of driving. “Hopefully tomorrow we can find some help.”

  “Help for what?” Pete asked. “What is going on, Mom?”

  She ignored his questions.

  When we got out of the car, we saw a broken down motel.

  “It looks like nobody’s here,” I said.

  “Well, maybe that’s good.” Pete grabbed my hand as we followed our mom into the office. “Maybe that’s the best thing if we have to hide.”

  The man at the front desk gave us a key. He ogled my mom, smirking.

  “You’ll be in room A-7,” he said. When he spoke I saw his black teeth. “That’s on the bottom floor.”

  We found our room. My mom opened the door. Pushing us inside, she closed and locked the door, securing the chain.

  “It smells funny in here,” I said, looking at the small bed. The stained, torn comforter hung off-centered on the bed. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  Taking off her coat, my mom spread it on the bed and sat down. She motioned for me to sit next to her.

  “Put you head on my lap.” She patted her thighs.

  When I laid down, she ran her fingers through my hair. I feel asleep quickly. Something woke me with a start. Voices outside the door. My mom’s icy fingers holding my shoulders so tight.

  “Is it him?” Pete asked, whispering. “Is it the man from the restaurant?”

  I looked up to see her nodding.

  “This the room?” the gruff man asked, his voice muffled behind the door.

  “It is.” I recognized the voice of the man from the front desk.

  “Skinny woman and two kids?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long they been in there?”

  “A couple hours, sir.”

  “They bring anything with ’em?”

  “Just their coats.”

  “Good. Unlock the door.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The key made a grinding noise as it turned in the lock.

  My mom gasped. Grabbing us she backed into a corner. She reached up and pulled her coat off the bed and onto her lap. She shielded us with her body and put her hand into her coat pocket.

  The door didn’t open. The chain only allowed it to move a few inches.

  The gruff man used harsh words.

  “Not a problem, sir. The chain’s broke. It’s held together by a paper clip. You just gotta push a little harder,” the front desk man said.

  The door flung open wide.

  We couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. My whole body tensed.

  “Here you go.” The gruff man handed the other a wad of money.

  “Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas.”

  The man from the restaurant parking lot stood in our motel room. He shut the door.

  “Cora, ain’t ya gonna wish your pa a Merry Christmas?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

  “How did you find us?” my mom asked.

  “Where’d all your manners go, girl? Ain’t ya gonna introduce me to my own grandkids?”

  “No.” Her voice had an edge I’d never heard before. “You need to leave.”

  The man sat on the end of the bed. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke. He stifled a cough.

  “Peter and Dorothea. Am I right?” he asked, pointing the burning end at us.

  Pete grabbed my hand.

  Cora – 41

  When I saw my father’s truck in the driveway I rushed back to the kitchen, stowing my bag under the sink. I cut bread to make him a sandwich, knowing he would be hungry. If I didn’t have food for him, he’d beat me.

  “Get in here,” he yelled, flinging the door open.

  Two sets of wet feet sloshed into the house. I stayed put, waiting for him to call me when he wanted something.

  “There. On the couch.”

  I heard a body fall into the old cushions. The springs creaked.

  The sounds of his fists pounding the person were awful. He screamed horrible words.

  “You’re gonna do as you’re told or you’ll get more of that.”

  His belt clicked as he unfastened it. Then the zipper being pulled down. The couch moved more and more.

  It wasn’t unusual for him to bring one of Ducky’s girls home with him. On those nights I was relieved that it wasn’t me for once. Guilt and shame stabbed me at those thoughts.

  The sounds of the couch stopped shortly after they began.

  “Hey, girl,” he hollered at me. “Get me somethin’ to eat.”

  I picked up the sandwich and walked with it to the living room. He sat in the rocking chair, his pants still undone. He motioned for me to bring the food to him. I stood as far back from him as I could. His foul odor clouded around him. I wished I’d had the thought to poison him before that moment.

  “Get yourself around. You gotta drive that back to Ducky’s.” He indicated the curled up body on the couch. “I gotta get some sleep. The key’s in the ignition. You know the way, right, girl?”

  “Just down the mountain a couple miles,” I whispered.

  “And if she don’t make it back there, I’ll make sure you take her place,” he said, mouth ful of sandwich. “Ya hear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered.

  I grabbed my bag from the kitchen and walked out in the rain to the truck. I could never have planned a better escape. I had a vehicle.

  Dot – 42<
br />
  Paul sat across from me, elbows on the table, his eyes large.

  “I think they’re about to close the place,” I said, nodding at the employee as he vacuumed around our feet.

  “Yeah. I guess we should get going.” He looked at me. “This is pretty intense. I guess I never knew it happened this way.”

  “I know. The reporters changed it up a bit in the paper.” I turned my head, trying to figure out how to get outside. “And there’s a whole lot more, too. I really don’t know if you want to hear about all of it.”

  “Like you could just stop right there. You have me terrified.” He took one last sip of his soda. “Was that guy really your grandfather?”

  “Yup.” I sucked in a gulp of air. “Just so you know, I’m about to have a panic attack.”

  “You need some fresh air?”

  “That would be great.” We walked outside. “I’m trying to keep myself together. Retelling it brings up all these emotions. Like it’s all happening again.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” He touched the center of my back.

  “Yeah. I just need a break.” I turned, letting his hand fall off my back. “How about we just go back to Lola’s and have some coffee on the porch?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Besides, I really don’t want to be in public for the rest of this story.”

  “I understand.”

  Less than half an hour later, we sat on the steps at Lola’s, sipping hot coffee. In that safe place, I could breathe again.

  ~*~

  The gruff man, my grandfather, sat on the edge of the bed, speaking inches from my mom’s face.

  “When I seen your picture in the paper, I knowed it was one of you,” he said. “Somethin’ about your husband getting’ hisself killed in the war.”

  Someone walked past the motel door, laughing. Or crying. I couldn’t tell. I looked at the man. He shook his head, smile full of broken teeth.

  “Don’t you even think ’bout calling out for help. Ain’t nobody ’round here gonna help ya.” He sat up straighter, shifted himself further up on the bed.

  “When did you come to Michigan?” my mom asked. She didn’t take her eyes off the man.

  “Ducky got hisself a strip joint up here. Got a couple motels, too. This just happens to be one of his.” He scratched himself obscenely. “He got me a transfer deal. Then, when Ducky come on hard times I bought him out.”

  “Did you bring Marlowe with you?”

  “Nope. She runned away long before that.” He looked at me. The way he moved his eyes over me, where he held his gaze on my body, made me nervous. “That little girl of yours sure is a pretty little thing, ain’t she. Looks better than you ever did.”

  “If you touch her I will kill you,” my mom said, her voice savage. “I will do whatever I must to keep you away from her.”

  “You doin’ what you wish your mama woulda did?” he asked, snarling. “She just sat back and let me do whatever I wanted. Didn’t she?”

  “She wasn’t strong.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t care.” He lit another cigarette.

  “I will not let you hurt my daughter,” my mom said.

  “You got real tough, didn’t ya’?”

  His laugh made goose bumps rise on my skin.

  Cora – 43

  I sat in the truck, the rain pouring on the hood, lightning strikes illuminating the whole yard. I watched the shack. Candlelight flickered as a shadow crossed the window.

  “I will never see this house again,” I whispered. A wave of nausea flooded over me.

  The girl walked down the porch step. She held her arms around her ribs as she stepped down. She moved closer to the truck and collapsed.

  “Come on. Come on,” I whispered to myself. “Just start the truck and go. Don’t wait for her. She could ruin this.”

  I slid the key into the ignition, just about to turn the engine over. I looked at the girl, in a heap on the ground.

  Something in my heart broke for her. If I left her, she would die. Or worse, be stuck in my place with my father. I climbed out of the truck.

  “Hey, we have to get into the truck,” I said, kneeling next to her. “We have to get out of here before he gets angry. Please, come on.”

  The girl rolled over and looked at me. Her face swollen and covered with blood.

  “Just leave me,” she said, her voice raspy.

  “I can’t do that. Now, come on.” I tugged her arm. “Seriously, you don’t want me to leave you here. Not with him. He’s crazy. I’ll carry you.”

  She stood slowly with some help. I helped her to the passenger side of the truck.

  “Cora,” she said. “Cora, it’s me.”

  That voice. Just like mine. The hair, her hands. Just like me. I tried to look into her eyes. They were so swollen over.

  “Marlowe?” I asked, my heart dropping.

  “Cora,” she said.

  The other half of me, in my arms, bleeding. “Marlowe is alive,” I said.

  Dot – 44

  We sat in the corner of the motel room for hours. I put my head on Pete’s shoulder, never moving my eyes away from the man’s face.

  “Hey, I need somethin’ to drink,” he said to my mom, trying to get his coat off. He shook so hard, he could barely control his arms. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Go get me somethin’.”

  “Get it yourself,” she said. “You know where the liquor store is, I’m sure.”

  He stood. The tremors caused him to stumble. Catching himself on the dresser, he cursed. Then punched the wall. His fist didn’t even make a dent. He lacked the force to even break loose the peeling orange paint.

  “You think you’re so smart, do ya? Think ya gonna get rid of me just like that.” He turned to us, hands on the dresser. “You gonna take that boy with you down and get me a bottle of somethin’ strong. My girl Dorothea and me is gonna get acquainted. Now get.”

  He peeked out the curtains, letting a thin stream of light into the room. My mother pulled something from her coat pocket. She glanced at Pete and me, putting a finger to her lips to quiet us. She stood and pointed the object at the man’s back.

  “You are going to let us go now. And you aren’t going to follow us,” she said with authority.

  Pete and I stood up. The man turned around. He bared his black, stinking teeth.

  “Now, lookie here at that big old gun. Where’d a girl like you get that?” He laughed. “Ya know I’m gonna make you pay for this. Just like I made your idiot brother and sister pay.”

  He reached into his pocket. The gun in my mom’s hand made an earsplitting boom. I screamed. Grabbed hold of Pete.

  The man fell to the ground. She shot him until the bullets in her gun were gone.

  “Let’s go,” she said, calmly. She picked me up with strength that I couldn’t understand. She couldn’t have weighed much more than I did. “We need to go home.”

  As she carried me past the man, I saw a gun in his hand. I held tighter around her neck. She turned, looking at my brother. He stayed in the corner, eyes on the man, paralyzed.

  “Come on, Pete,” she said. “We need to go.”

  “I can’t,” he whispered.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said, reaching for his hand. “We just have to get away from him.”

  Pete looked from the body to my mom. He sprinted past the man. My mom put me down.

  “Now we really need to get away from here.” She grabbed our hands and rushed us to the car.

  I climbed in behind my mom, still shaking and sobbing. Pete sat next to me, his arms around me.

  My mom drove the car out of the parking lot. She made a turn, not looking.

  Just then a horn sounded. The semi-truck’s light shone alarmingly close to the passenger side windows.

  We didn’t have time to scream before the truck crashed into us.

  Cora – 45

  “It was Marlowe?” Lisa asked, her voice quiet and cautious. “It rea
lly was?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “My father brought her to the shack that night because she failed to please a customer. He had to refund that man’s cash. He was punishing her for losing money.”

  “Oh, Cora. What a strange thing that must have been for you. One minute hearing him abuse her and then being reunited.” She held her face in her hands. “And to know that God brought her back to you, just in time to escape.”

  “I wish it would have worked out that way.” I rubbed my eyes.

  “You must have had so many conflicting feelings. And with your mother dead I just can’t get over the gamut of emotions for such a young girl to experience.”

  “I’m so tired. Do you mind if we finish this up tomorrow?” I yawned. “I really need to get some sleep. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “That’s fine, Cora. I want you to pace yourself.” She stood. “I’m thinking that tomorrow might be a good day for brownies.”

  “Isn’t every day a good day for brownies?”

  “So true, my friend.”

  “Lisa, you are making me fat.”

  “Eh. I think you look more beautiful than ever.”

  “Speaking of beauty, could you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Would you be able to find a bottle of hair dye for me? Auburn? I’m so sick of looking sixty.”

  “You don’t look sixty. But I think I can find some for you.”

  She winked at me.

  I couldn’t help myself. I smiled.

  Dot – 46

  From the floor of the backseat, all I could see were the red and blue flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten on the floor. Had I even buckled my seat belt?

  “Dot! Get out!” My mom’s screams broke through my muted, numb trance.

  I looked up. The car wrapped around the front of a semi-truck, crushed. Sitting up, I saw Pete’s head. It leaned awkwardly on his neck.

 

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