She set a bottle of shampoo on the exam table, along with a bag of what looked like tuna cans. “Use this. Soap him up well, and let it sit on his skin for at least a couple of minutes. It’s medicated. It will help clear up all the skin irritation.” Oh, boy. “And we are sending home special wet food. He should be on this for about a week or so. It stimulates the appetite, plus it is very high in protein, which he needs right now. One tablespoon at a time, three times today. Then increase to four times tomorrow. We have to get him back to food gradually. After tomorrow, you can add a bit of dry food. When the cans are gone, back to the usual diet.”
She smiled. “Are you sure you can do all this?”
I nodded emphatically. Then I made a mental note to get Bob involved. Yes. Bob was just the ticket.
On the way home, D steered with one hand, and held her nose with the other. She was such a pain in the ass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We were jogging on the track at the gym. Since Alex and D had moved into their own place, there was a hole in my routine, so Gail suggested I start working out. “The thighs aren’t getting any smaller,” as she put it. I hate exercising indoors, but it was way too hot outside—Indian summer in Ohio—to run in the park. Humidity in the heartland is lethal, let me tell you.
We were discussing the end of me and Theo. “Gail, it was probably the best thing. I had so much going on in my life this summer. There wasn’t really time for a relationship. Don’t give me that aggravated look!”
Gail pumped her arms and panted. I was having trouble keeping up with her. All my caregiving had left me with strong shoulders but weak legs. “Beck, at this rate, you will be single forever!”
“Don’t worry about it. Theo and I were not a match made in heaven, anyway.”
Gail brushed a bead of sweat from her eye. “Yeah, but as far as I’m concerned, there is no such thing. You didn’t appreciate Theo enough.”
Although exploring my philosophy of life while puffing and dripping my way around a gym balcony in the middle of a sweltering late October in Framington, Ohio, was not my idea of the right time and place, I felt I had to expound. “Gail. He is a wonderful man. Husband material for somebody. But just not for me. He knew I wasn’t in love with him, and he deserved better. He was right to call it quits. I don’t think I’m destined to be part of a twosome.”
Gail slapped me on my arm. “That is bullshit.”
I chugged a sip of water from my Nalgene. “No, really. Gail, I don’t think I ever want to get married. I really enjoy my freedom.”
Gail grunted with disgust. And picked up the pace. Damn, I was out of shape. “You are lying to yourself. But fine. If that’s what you want to tell yourself, it’s none of my business.”
I concentrated on keeping my pace in sync with hers. “I do fine. I like my life the way it is. And frankly, Theo was as boring as a blank sheet of paper.” My knees ached.
“Hah! What exactly are you looking for? A pirate? A mobster? They aren’t boring. But, honey,” Gail poked me in the ribs, “Johnny Depp is taken.”
“Gail. Can we slow down a little? You are killing me, here. And no, I am not looking for a pirate, for God’s sake. Just someone with a little flair, and not necessarily one with an all-Ralph-Lauren-all-the-time wardrobe.”
“That sounds like defensiveness to me.”
I straightened up and looked her in the eye. Gail’s mascara never ran, even in the midst of a workout. “Gail, I love you, too. I know you have my best interests at heart. I know that having a man in my life is a good thing. But it has to be the right man.” I grabbed Gail’s arm. “We have to walk for a while.”
Gail slowed down and matched her pace to my pitiful, out-of-shape shuffle. “Actually, I’m glad we’re having this discussion.” She stopped suddenly. “How would you feel if Theo and I went out on a date?”
I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. “Huh? What about Rick?”
Gail pulled me against the rail so that other joggers could pass us. “Rick and I were never serious. He was luscious and all, but it was a fling. And I am so damn sick of flings. And then you and Theo didn’t jell. He has called me a few times, just to talk. We’ve had dinner a couple of times. Beck, I really like him. He’s such a terrific guy. But if this bothers you, I won’t pursue it.” She looked so serious.
I punched her on the arm. “Gail, I have so much going on in my life right now. A new book, maybe a new career. I spent the summer with an eight-year-old girl and her great-grandmother, learning how to give sponge baths and make nourishing meals. My sister came here to stay, and I realized that she isn’t always Queen of the Bitches. I quit my job. My cat ran away and nearly died. So no. Of course I am not upset about you dating Theo. I am sort of envious that I wasn’t able to fall head-over-heels in love with him, but that’s about it.”
Gail laughed. “You just said he was as boring as a blank sheet of paper.”
“I know. But that’s me. We both know there’s something wrong with my head. What about you, though?”
She hugged herself. “No, I think he’s almost perfect.” Gail absolutely beamed.
Enough said.
▷◁
It was Janey’s afternoon off. She needed some time for herself and her son. I spent Tuesday and Thursday afternoons across the street at Ella’s until Bob came home from school, often with Hallie. They entertained Ella and each other until bedtime, when Janey came back, much restored. On those days, Ella and I made dinner together in the kitchen. I cooked, and Ella instructed me. Today, it was just the two of us, and I was making creamed tuna, to be served on toast later. It sounds horrible, what with the canned peas and condensed milk—straight out of a WWII cookbook, but it was actually a favorite at the Bowers’ house. I had been known to have two helpings, myself.
“Rebecca, something is going on with Bobby. She seems worried.”
I looked up from the pot, but kept stirring, so the cream sauce wouldn’t separate. “What do you mean, exactly?”
Ella shook her head. “I’ve asked her if something is bothering her, but she just clams up. And Janey said that Bob had a nightmare last night. She asked me this morning if she could stay home from school today.”
I turned the heat off under the sauce. I turned to look at Ella, whose face contorted, her lips drawn into a thin line. She looked even paler than usual.
“She’s due home soon. Let’s see if we can draw her out. Maybe it’s just some sort of issue at school. Maybe one of the girls snubbed her or something. You know how awful girls can be to one another.” Ella didn’t look convinced.
As I finished making the tuna, I tried to change the subject. I mentioned that Theo and Gail were dating. I don’t think that even registered with Ella, despite the fact that she had been very sad when I told her that Theo and I were no longer an item. I asked Ella if she knew how to make Floating Island, because it was mentioned in a book I had read recently and sounded delicious. Nothing.
A few minutes later, after we had moved into the living room, and Ella fanned herself nervously with a magazine and I fidgeted in my seat, we heard Bob pounding up the front steps. She slammed the screen door and started to go upstairs, but I stopped her.
“Bob! Come in here for a minute. We want to ask you something.”
Bob dropped her backpack on the hall table, trudged into the living room, and stood there, biting the inside of her bottom lip and looking down at her feet.
“Bobby, honey. Something is wrong. We can tell. Come in and sit down and tell us about it, so that we can help you.” Ella patted the cushion beside her on the sofa. Bob seemed reluctant, but she shuffled in and sat down. She still wouldn’t look at either of us.
“Bob, has something happened at school? Did you get in trouble?”
She shook her head, then began gnawing on her thumbnail.
“Are you worried about your dad?” I wa
s casting around for something, anything. But Bob was just not herself. Ella wasn’t kidding.
Ella reached over and touched Bob on the cheek. Bob looked at her gran and it all came tumbling out. “There was a lady on the other side of the fence at recess yesterday and today. She was staring at us. And today, she waved at me.”
This was alarming. But women aren’t usually child stalkers. I started to say something.
Bob continued, her voice almost a whisper. “It was my mother.”
Ella gasped, “ROWENA IS HERE?”
We sat in stunned silence for what seemed like minutes, but it was probably a split second before Ella scrabbled to get up off the sofa and fell backwards. I jumped up and ran to the front door, expecting to see Rowena standing on the front porch waiting to be invited in. Of course, the porch was empty, and there was nobody coming down the block, either. A relief. I turned back to see Ella still struggling to get up.
“We have to call the police! Bobby isn’t safe! What if Rowena is here to abduct Bobby?” Her voice cracked. “Rebecca! Help me UP!”
Bob jumped off the sofa and turned on us. “I hate her! Why is she here? I won’t go with her anywhere! Make her go away!” With that, Bob hurtled up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.
Ella reached out for me, her arms trembling, her legs scrambling beneath her. I took her hands and sat beside her, trying to hold her down. “Ella. We have to collect ourselves. We need to take a deep breath here and think for a minute.”
Ella pulled her hands away and began wringing them. Her eyes filled. “I can’t bear this!” She shut her eyes and sat, the tears catching in the creases of her cheeks. “She wants to take Bobby.”
“Ella, we don’t know for sure that the woman is Rowena. Bob hasn’t seen her for a long time. It might just have been someone who looks like Rowena.”
Ella’s eyes shot open. She reached over and gripped my forearm and dug her nails into my skin. “Go out there. Find her. She knows our address. Please find her before she comes here for Bobby!” Ella let go of my arm and waved toward the door. “She is out there. You have to stop her!”
All l knew of Rowena’s appearance was that one old photo that was folded into the letter she sent Bob. I didn’t have a lot to go on. But at this point, with Bob barricaded in her room and Ella quivering in terror, I didn’t feel I had a choice. I got up and headed for the door.
“I am going to lock the door behind me. Don’t answer the doorbell. Tell Bob not to, either.” With Ella nodding and gesturing wildly for me to get out of there, I did.
I was drenched in sweat, but not from the heat. I started off in the direction of the school, thinking that maybe this woman was hanging around somewhere in the vicinity of the playground. I held my cell phone in a death grip. If she jumped me or something, I could dial 9-1-1. My thoughts twisted inside my head.
What if you walk right past her and don’t recognize her?
I know. But so far, I haven’t seen anybody.
What does a drug addict look like? Are they really thin? Do they have obvious track marks on their arms and stuff?
Don’t be stupid. I can’t just walk up to a woman on the street and ask to see her arms! And there are other places to put needles. No. I have to focus on that face in the photo. Dark hair. Haunting eyes. Yes, THIN.
What will you do if you see her? GRAB her?
Shut up, Beck. I don’t know.
OH MY FREAKING GOD.
Because there she was. Sitting on a bench in the little park where Bob and Hallie often played. Sitting there with her hollow eyes and bony knees on the bench where Bob and I sometimes sat slurping Popsicles. Her hair was lank, the color of used tea bags. It hung in front of one eye, greasy and dull. She looked sunburned and scarred, baked by the elements. She wore blue-and-black striped leggings with a hole in each knee. Smoking as if her life depended on it. I hesitated to approach her, but she looked up at me and stood immediately, throwing her cigarette to the ground, as if she had been waiting for this.
I stopped so abruptly on the pavement, I nearly tripped and fell. “Hello. Are you by any chance named Rowena?”
She nodded. She was so thin that her leggings hung in folds below her waist. This was a woman far beyond anorexia—she was skeletal. Her forearms were riddled with scabs. I was reminded of the stray dogs with mange that appear in all of the rescue videos on Facebook.
My throat was dry. “My name is Rebecca Throckmorton.” I regained my balance and forced a smile. “I am a good friend of Bob and Ella Bowers.”
Rowena stuck out her hand. It wasn’t exactly clean. Her fingertips were nicotine stained. But I reached out and shook it. I was surprised at the strength of her grip. She motioned for me to sit down on the bench beside her.
“I knew Roberta recognized me today. And I figured somebody would come looking for me.”
I didn’t waste any time. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in rehab? What do you want with Bob—Roberta? You don’t have any claim on her.” I puffed up like a tomcat.
“She put her hands together as if praying. “Peace. I come in peace.”
Her eyes were clear. She didn’t look high to me. But then again, I have no experience with drug users, and so I didn’t really have much to go on. But her expression blasted me with such sincerity, so I relaxed just a bit. “What do you want?”
She sat back. She wore a tank top, her collarbone slicing her neckline. This woman sorely needed a few thousand calories. I wondered when she had eaten last. “Well?”
“I am clean and sober. I got out of rehab four days ago. Sober now for sixty days. That is a record for me.”
Whoa. Not much of a record. “Go on.”
She reached into her filthy backpack, rooted around, and brought out a package of cigarettes and a Bic. She pulled out a cigarette that had already been half-smoked, clicked her lighter until the end of the stub glowed, and inhaled deeply. “I just want to see my daughter. Who are you—the go-between?” Rowena’s grin flared ruefully.
“Sort of. Yes. I’m Roberta’s neighbor—her good friend.”
“The guard? The sentinel? What is your name, ‘good friend’?”
“As I said, my name is Rebecca Throckmorton. I have been taking care of Bob—she doesn’t like to be called Roberta—and Ella since Ella fell and broke her hip. And they are both very upset that you just blew into town. They are scared.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Scared? Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Your history of addiction is no secret. And you hit Bob, didn’t you? Punched her? You have failed your family and your daughter. You gave up custody. Bob hasn’t heard anything from you, for what, years? And then suddenly you send her a letter begging for forgiveness, and now you just show up and lurk around the playground. This is like the plot from some CSI episode in which people are kidnapped or worse.” I wanted to kick her.
I have to give her credit. She slumped and sighed. “I know. I know.”
Here we were, in the midst of small-town America, with leafy trees, chirping birds, and traffic humming all around us. Kids playing on the swings. Dogs barking in backyards. This was some kind of seismic event in the lives of the Bowers family, and it was playing out on a park bench on a breezy afternoon.
Rowena. Stringy, pale. She sagged with exhaustion. But there was something about her. There was a strength.
“How did you get here? And why now?”
“I took buses.”
This would be a long story. Too long for this bench. “You look hungry and tired. Do you want something to eat?”
She smiled. Her teeth were very white. She must have been beautiful once. I could see why Charles Bowers had been smitten back then. “I am hungry.”
I still clutched my cell phone. I tipped it up and called Ella. She answered on the first ring. “I found her. Don’t worry. We are getting s
omething to eat. Sit tight. There is no need to call the police, Ella. Ella?”
I heard her take a deep breath at her end. “Rebecca. I am so worried.”
I told Ella not to be scared. But I was panicked.
▷◁
Rowena inhaled two hamburgers and an order of fries. I could see the lumps of food as they made their way down her stalk of a throat. I guess she wasn’t anorexic. As she ate, she tried to talk, but I told her to wait until she could speak without chewing. After she finished her food, she pounded back her large Coke, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and started her story.
“Do you know anything about addiction? How it starts?”
“Not really.”
Rowena smiled. “Drugs are magical. Especially to certain sorts of people. People who have big holes in their lives. Like me.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“I grew up in Oceanside, Cali. My parents were losers. My dad was a marine—saw a lot of action, but when he got out, he had what he said was PTSD. But that was just an excuse for him to drink. He stayed near Camp Pendleton and did odd jobs. My mom had bipolar disorder. Around our house, it was like a shitstorm all the time. My mom committed suicide, and then my dad just disappeared. This was when I was fifteen, and so I went into the system. I had a crappy set of foster parents who basically ignored me; they just liked the stipend they got for having me. So guess what? I started smoking pot. It was okay. But then, one of the girls at school gave me a Vic.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “A what?”
“A Vic. VICODIN. You know? The painkiller. It was so, so smooth. It felt sort of like I had swallowed velvet. You know?”
I didn’t. But I nodded, anyway.
“Yeah. It was heaven. And she had a bunch of them. She stole them from her mom. She charged us a buck a pill. That was sweet.”
Jesus.
“Then she ran out of pills, but it wasn’t a problem, because there was this guy, Tommy, who sold them out of his locker. He charged five dollars for three pills. Cheap. I took them all through high school.”
Crossing the Street Page 25