Around the Bend

by Shirley Jump

  “Louie! Come here! You gotta see this! It’s just amazing. My Lord, the things you can do at Kinko’s these days.”

  A man rounded an RV that had seen better days and better paint jobs. It was long and bright green, with “See the Country or Bust Tryin’” painted in swirling neon-yellow letters down the side. Louie hitched up his jeans as he walked, one finger in the belt loop, apparently serving as suspenders.

  But his ample gut hung over the front, undoing all the hard work of that one digit. He had day-old stubble coating his neck and chin, a grease-stained John Deere cap shading his face, and a Budweiser frogs T-shirt straining over his chest, the frogs looking ready to either belch or make a run for it.

  Nick came out of the woods then, Reginald trotting beside him on his leash, looking lighter and happier than five minutes earlier. Nick gave me a grin and an arched brow that asked, “Who are these people?” I just shrugged in answer.

  “Howdy,” Louie said, extending a hand toward me, then Ma. “Nice to meet some fellow travelers. You folks broke down?”

  “No, just taking pictures.” The digital camera, clearly, wasn’t a hint.

  “Of what?” Louie looked around, holding tight to that belt loop as he did. He spat a wad of tobacco behind him, then swiveled his gaze forward again. “I see nothing but trees and rocks. You can get them ’bout anywhere, ’specially in these parts. Don’t they have rocks where you live?”

  “Not so much,” Ma said, moving forward, Dad under her arm. He wobbled a bit with the movement, and she nearly lost her footing as she navigated over the rough, rocky gravel at the edge of the road. I rushed forward, taking Dad from her. “My husband here—” she gestured toward my father “—didn’t get to see the country before he died, so we’re taking pictures with him.”

  Daisy Duke pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, Lordy, that is just the sweetest thing I ever heard. About makes me want to cry. It’s like a Nicholas Sparks book.” She sniffled and I worried I’d have to go get Ma’s Kleenexes again. I was half tempted to ask if they were related to a Sally from Sandusky.

  “Where you folks from?” Louie asked.

  “Boston,” Nick put in, coming up beside me. My hero, albeit too late to rescue me.

  “Lot of rude yokels, that’s what you got there. No offense to you folks, of course.” Louie tipped his hat with his free hand. “I used to be a truck driver and I tell you, them Boston people, they scare me.”

  Daisy Duke slipped in beside her husband and nodded. “Louie here is out on disability because of it. Post-drama stress.”

  “You mean post-traumatic stress syndrome, don’t you, from driving in Boston?” Nick asked.

  “No, post-drama.” Daisy Duke leaned in close. “He had an altercation with a high maintenance actress over a parking space outside the Macy’s. It got ugly pretty quick. Delivery driver versus diva, and the diva, she wouldn’t back down, not her or her little dog.”

  “Those Chihuahuas, they can get pretty mean,” Louie said, his eyes wide. He shuddered.

  “I guess there was a big sale at the Macy’s and she wasn’t going to let my Louie keep her from her Ralph Lauren. Let’s just say the cat came out and she had some pretty sharp claws. My poor Louie hasn’t been the same since.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Nick had to look away, and I could see him doing the same thing as me. “Oh. I see.”

  “Well, that’s neither here nor there, not anymore. Though, we’re still fighting the restraining order by Macy’s. Totally unjustified. I mean, Louie has rights and he may someday really want some designer duds.”

  I glanced at the faded, redolent frogs on his T-shirt. “Yeah, he…might.”

  She thrust out her hand. “By the way, I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Carla, Carla Weggins, wife to my sweet Louie here. And you are?”

  My mother, who I had fully expected to run these people off or better yet, run from them, was the first to put her hand into Carla’s. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Rosemary Delaney. This is my daughter, Hilary, and her…‘significant other’—” Ma air-quoted the words “—Nicholas Warner.”

  “Nick,” he corrected, when it came time to shake his hand. “And I’d be Hilary’s fiancé if she let me.”

  I groaned. “Do we need to make my love life public knowledge?”

  “Yes,” Ma and Nick said at the same time.

  I threw up my hands, grabbed Reginald’s leash, and walked away from all of them. I had enough people standing over there to open my own looney bin. “Come on, Reginald, in the car. Westward, ho, and then maybe we can get home again. Back to normal life.”

  But Reginald was having no part of getting back in the minivan. He dug in his little hooves and refused to climb inside. When I tried to lift him through the open side door, he went limp, dead pig weight in my arms. “Stop it, or I’ll turn you into bacon.”

  He oinked.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  He wouldn’t. I hefted and shoved, but he squealed and flung out his hooves, squirming wildly in my arms, twisting until he fell to the ground and scampered away—or at least as far away as his leash would take him.

  And barely leaving my arm in the socket in the process.

  “You are so becoming breakfast tomorrow,” I said to the pig. He plopped his bottom on the road and ignored my threat.

  Behind me, Carla and Louie were laughing at something my mother had said. I could hear the murmur of conversation, four voices exchanging bonding over God only knew what. Nick, I could see. He had the ability to converse with everyone from the governor to the homeless guy who spent his summers living in the alley behind Nick’s building, refusing help, but accepting the occasional bottle of wine.

  My mother, however, had nothing in common with people like that. She was an attorney. She went to bar association events, cocktail parties, wine tastings, not church bingo and flea markets. Surely she was only biding her time until I could force-load Reginald into the van, and give her an excuse to ditch the Colorado Hillbillies.

  “Ma,” I called, giving up on her stubborn pig. “Reginald won’t get in the car. Will you come over here and talk some sense into him?”

  Ma waved a hand in dismissal. “Let him be, Hilary. We have time. Maybe he just needs some more fresh air. Besides, I’m enjoying myself. Carla and Louie said there’s a picnic area down the hill a little ways. We could stop and have lunch with them.”

  I gaped. Had I heard her right? She was unconcerned about Reginald’s uncooperativeness and she was enjoying herself with these people? And what’s more, wanted to detour for an impromptu picnic with total strangers? “You want to have lunch? With them?”

  “Sure. We’ll make some new friends, have some…” She looked at the Weggins couple. “What’d you say you were making?”

  “Hot-dog casserole. My specialty. I won a yellow ribbon at the state fair last year for it. Would have won the blue if that Deanna Compton hadn’t come along and swept the category with her venison-and-parsnip stew.” Carla put a fist on her hip, which only served to raise her shorts and expose cellulite-dimpled skin I didn’t need to see—especially not just before a meal. I vowed to get myself to Gold’s Gym way more often. “But I got a copy of Deanna’s recipe. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to bribe an eleven-year-old. One Nintendo Game Boy and wham-slam-thank-you-ma’am, Vanessa Compton is singing her Mama’s secret recipe like a pet-store parakeet. Deanna’s never going to see the color blue again. Y’all just have to try my hot dog casserole. I’ve kicked it up a notch since last year’s fair, too.”

  “We’d love to,” Ma said before I could refuse.

  Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting on the other side of a pine picnic table avoiding splinters while I pretended to enjoy something made with hot dogs and crescent rolls. Some kind of green vegetable also lurked in the cheesy mixture, but I decided not to ask its identity.

  Nick sat down beside me and handed me a purple Tupperware glass of Mountain
Dew. “This is not so bad,” he whispered in my ear.

  “The food or the company?”

  “Both.” He teased a bite under my lips, and I took it, but only because it was from Nick.

  He was right, though I wouldn’t tell him that. Carla and Louie were not such bad company. Originally from Georgia, they’d traveled all over the country, after selling their house and trading the subdivision life for one on wheels. “We couldn’t stand being in one place,” Carla explained to my mother. “So Louie and I decided to become full-time road warriors.”

  “Yep. We just pull up stakes and move on, whenever we feel like it.”

  “That means we can see the grandkids any old time we want to. All totaled, we have four grandkids. We got Tyler and Leigh in Tulsa, Miranda and Catherine in Connecticut, and another one on the way in Georgia.” Carla gave Louie’s arm an excited squeeze. “We’re going to be putting some more miles on the old Green Monster again soon.”

  “I always wanted to do that,” Ma said, her sentence ending on a sigh. “Well, my husband and I did. We talked about doing exactly what you two are doing.”

  I pivoted on the wood seat. “You did?”

  She nodded. “It was our retirement dream. Your father and I thought we’d sell the house and travel for the rest of our lives.”

  I glanced over at the big green monster, which didn’t exactly seem like my mother’s preferred mode of vacationing. “In an RV?”

  “Well…” Ma gave the Weggins couple a smile. “I’m not quite as adventurous as you two. I’m more of a hotel kind of girl, but if my late husband, Jack, had tried talking me into an RV, I might have given it a shot. He was the adventurous one, and he could be pretty convincing when he wanted to be.”

  Carla snorted. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Rosemary. Look at you. You’re travelin’ clear across the country with a pig. That’s not what you read in your ordinary travel brochure, if you know what I mean. Though I bet he’s a pretty fun traveling companion and just cute as a button, to boot.”

  Ma laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” Then she sobered and looked out over the vast, exquisite view, nature’s beauty, an elegant backdrop for our simple, rustic picnic. “Still, I wish…” Ma’s voice trailed off, filled with a wistfulness I’d never heard before, the notes sharp and pained.

  I looked at Nick, unsure of what to say. Seeing my mother vulnerable, needy, wasn’t something I knew how to handle. His hand covered mine, and I leaned into his shoulder, needing him even if I wasn’t going to tell him that I did.

  “You know what I say about wishes?” Carla butted in. “That they’re just sentences waitin’ to be finished. So you just get on out there, Rosemary, and find the words you need.”

  Ma laid her hand over Carla’s and gave it a squeeze. Once again, I wondered about this new side of my mother, this woman who now easily made friends, connected with people who five days ago hadn’t even been in the same social solar system. “Thanks, Carla,” Ma said. “I think I really needed to hear that.”

  “Anytime you need advice, you just come to Carla. I’m a regular Dear Abby, aren’t I, Louie?”

  “Oh, she’s got the words of wisdom all right,” Louie said, rolling his eyes. “Tells me what to do every damned minute of the day.”

  Carla swatted him, then dished up second helpings, before heading into the RV for a chocolate silk pie. She was like those clowns in the circus, just pulling one miracle after another out of the vehicle.

  After everyone had been served another cholesterol-raising dish, Carla snuggled up to Louie and gave the three of us a smile. “You know, you three are more than welcome to hang out with us for a few days. Louie and are thinking of just camping in the Rockies. We have a few weeks till the new grandbaby comes along, and we were going to do some rock huntin’.”

  “Rock hunting? Is that when you look for rare and unusual types of rocks?” Nick asked.

  “Hell, no!” Louie laughed and drew Carla closer to him, pecking a kiss on her cheek. “Me and Carla, we get out the air gun, and we shoot us some rocks. We can’t really shoot ’em ’cuz that gets the park rangers’ panties all in a wad, but we have our fun, don’t we, sweetie?”

  “Oh, we do indeedy.” She laughed. “Never a dull moment around here.”

  “Rock hunting literally,” Nick said, catching my eye. “Who’d have thought it?”

  “You should try it. It’s fun you can’t find in a place like Boston.” Louie nodded. “I know, ’cuz I tried. Got myself arrested over it, too.” He shook his head and cursed under his breath.

  “There, there, Louie. Don’t get yourself all worked up again.” Carla patted his back. “Let me get you a pill, baby. Make you forget those awful memories.”

  “What I need is another slice of pie.” He gave Carla a smile.

  “Of course. Rosemary, can I get you anything else?”

  “Just show me the way to your ladies’ room.” The two of them headed into the RV, chit-chatting the whole way, immediate and fast friends. I watched her go, worried my mother was going to go back home with recipes for varmints and roadkill.

  When they were gone, Louie turned to Nick and I. “I’m not one for butting in, but—”

  Clearly, a sign he was going to do just that.

  “—there’s a reason your mother wants to get to California. I know a stubborn woman when I see one. I been sleepin’ beside one for twenty-seven years. I think, no matter what mountains get in your way—” he chuckled at his own pun, waving toward the Rockies as he did “—you better keep on truckin’. That woman’s on a mission. Her and her pig, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

  “Actually—”

  “No, we don’t mind,” Nick interrupted me, his hand holding mine tight, cutting off my objection. “And we appreciate your hospitality.”

  Louie nodded. “I’m only saying somethin’ ’cuz my Carla, she had a bad scare five years back. Breast cancer. She don’t talk about it much, but it changed her, made her want to see the world, get out of the mud we’d been stuck in. So we sold it all, packed everything into the big Green Monster over there, and the Good Lord, he seen fit to give Carla lots more years.” Louie leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You just never know when your cards are gonna get reshuffled. So don’t worry too much about the hand you already have ’cuz the Dealer—” at this, he sent a thumb heavenward “—could change it at any moment.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what point Louie was making here, and had to wonder how much of his post-drama stress was figuring into his convoluted advice. Either way, before I could get him to clarify, Carla arrived with his second piece of pie, and my mother emerged from the trailer, looking tired, and ready to go.

  “Wait, Hilary. I have one more thing to do,” my mother said. She turned to Carla. “Are you sure?”

  “Abso-toot-ley.” Carla gave my mother a huge grin.

  Ma crossed to the van, opened the side door and took out Reginald’s bed, food bag, and then Reginald himself, holding tight to his leash. My jaw dropped as she crossed back to Carla and Louie and handed all of it over to them. Reginald just stared up at my mother, not even aware he’d been handed over to a new owner. “Ma, what are you doing?”

  “It’s not fair to Reginald to take him on this trip. He’s cooped up in the car all the time, and he’s not happy. With Carla and Louie, he’ll get out more. See the world.” A tear glistened in her eyes as she said the words, made her case.

  “Ma, you love that pig.”

  She bent down, took his snout between her two hands and gave him a kiss. “I do love him, and I want him to…” She didn’t finish the sentence, just rose and met Carla’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Carla drew my mother into a tight hug. “It’s nothing, Rosemary. We’ll take good care of him.”

  I looked at Nick, who stared at me, just as shocked. A battalion of aliens could have landed in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and we would have been less surprised. “Ma—”

  “
This is best for…” She swallowed. “For Reginald.”

  I gaped at her. What the hell was going on? This was not my mother. Maybe her legs were bothering more than she let on? Maybe it was getting difficult for her to walk the pig? But still, giving him to total strangers?

  “Is your mother all right?” Nick whispered.

  “I don’t know anymore,” I said. Nothing was making any sense to me. Not my relationship with Nick, not my mother’s actions. I wanted to hit the rewind button, go back to Massachusetts and start all over again.

  There was a flurried exchange of hugs, addresses and promises to write and keep in touch. Carla even cried, vowing to pray for safe travels for all of us, saying something about a road warrior code. Then she gave my mother one more tight, tear-filled hug and bade us all goodbye.

  I walked my mother back to the car, noticing how she leaned on me. I didn’t mention Reginald, sensing she wasn’t ready to talk about him, even though I still didn’t understand what had transpired—or why. Nick and I exchanged concerned looks over her head. “Ma, do you want to get a room and call it a day?”

  My mother shook her head. “I think we should keep going. We’re running out of time.”

  I helped her into her seat, and buckled her in, like a three-year-old. She didn’t complain or argue. “Ma, Uncle Morty isn’t going anywhere and Ernie said I can take as much time off as I need.”

  My mother laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, her age showing in every line on her face, every wrinkle. The woman who had once seemed invincible suddenly looked as vulnerable as a child.

  I came around to my side and climbed into the driver’s seat, then reached out and laid my hand over hers. “Ma, you need to rest.”

  “I’ll sleep in the car.”

  “No, you’ll sleep in a real bed. And we’ll push it further tomorrow. So don’t argue with me.” I caught Nick’s eye in the mirror.

  “I think she’s right, Mrs. Delaney. We’ve all had a big day, making new friends in kindergarten here.”