Flee, Fly, Flown

by Janet Hepburn

  “Susie and Sharon moved out as soon as they had the chance. One or another of my brothers was always threatening to beat the daylights out of Stuart, but they just ended up moving out too. Now there’s just John and me at home. I’ve been thinking of leaving too, but I have nowhere to go.”

  “But you do. We can all live here. Remember?”

  Shadow lifts her head and barks. The telltale dust veil drifts up from the road as a white van slows out front and turns into the lane. Rayne hops out, a big smile on his face.

  “I’m glad you’re still here,” he says. “What do you think of our new wheels?”

  “Where have you been?” I ask. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “I went to get the new vehicle. How do you like it?”

  Audrey looks around. “Where’s the car?”

  “This is our new car,” Rayne says. “It has more room and lots of tinted windows so you can see out, but people can’t see in. It’s the Grand Caravan. It’s cheap to rent, gets pretty good mileage, and best of all, it’s not stolen.”

  “Where’s the Intrigue?” Audrey insists.

  “It’s sitting across from a police station waiting for someone to notice the plates and return it to your neighbor. Don’t worry, it’s all good, Audrey,” Rayne says.

  He opens the rear door and starts loading our baggage.

  “We’re going to live here,” I say. “You can just move that stuff right inside the house instead.”

  “No, we need to keep moving,” he says, continuing to load the minivan. “We’re almost to Manitoba.”

  “Manitoba? Really?” Audrey’s eyebrows shoot up and she struggles to her feet. “I’ve never been there.”

  “Well let’s go then,” Rayne says. “It should be four or five hours to Kenora, just this side of the Manitoba border. It’s about two-fifteen. We can get there before dark if we leave now.”

  We fold down the seat beside mine and settle Shadow onto the blanket. With everything stowed, we head back out along Highway 17.

  “This is great,” Audrey says. “I can see everything sitting up here. It’s like being in a big truck.”

  Shadow licks the small wounds on her front legs, stopping only to check that her travel companions are all

  still here.

  There is a guitar case in the back. “Do you play the guitar?”

  “Yeah, I play and sing. That’s what I was hoping to do with my life, but now I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “It’s not so easy making a living as a musician. I moved east to play with a band in Montreal, then they broke up and I found studio work in Toronto. I played some backups here and there and a few gigs on my own in Ottawa. That was good for a while, but it’s expensive to travel all the time and keep an apartment. Work’s hard to find too, sometimes.”

  “It sounds exciting. You need to keep trying to make it work.”

  “I miss playing. I’ve barely picked up my guitar since we left Ottawa. I was thinking that if I can’t find enough work back home, maybe I’ll try teaching or something for a while.”

  “You can teach me,” I say.

  Audrey is asleep. The van rides smoothly, quietly, filled with the new-car scent of carpet and upholstery not yet smudged by pet smells or coffee spills. I spot my notebook poking out of my purse. I write:

  yellow curtains. money from machine. guitar lessons. van

  Outside the window, the world blurs past. Book and pen still on my lap, I can feel myself nodding off.

  Late afternoon. The light in the sky is changing and Rayne has turned on the radio. Music drifts faintly from the speakers.

  “Can we stop soon?” I ask.

  Audrey is awake now too. “I’m so stiff you might have to just give me a shove and let me topple down from this seat,” she says.

  We pass exits to Dryden. The signs fly past the windows. “Rayne, I have to stop now.”

  “All right, relax,” he says as he turns into a truck stop restaurant. “Remember, inconspicuous. In fact, don’t use your real names, just in case. I’m afraid there might be new information about you being in the area since you used your credit card in Thunder Bay.”

  “Can I still be Lucy?” I ask.

  “Just don’t make a scene.”

  “I have to go now. Can we get the stories straight after

  I go to the bathroom?” I ask. I wrestle with the door. “How do I get out of this contraption?”

  Rayne jumps out and opens my door from the outside. “Go. We’ll wait here.”

  I hurry as fast as I can across the parking lot, find a washroom and rush in, focused on the cubicles on the other side of the room.

  “Hey, Lady, this is the men’s room.”

  I glance up to see a man, tucking and zipping in front of a urinal. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen it all before,” I say, rushing to the closest stall.

  “What the hell?” the man mutters as he opens the door to leave. “You can’t even get away from women in the can.”

  As I leave, I come face-to-face with a policeman. He turns and checks the symbol on the door, then looks back at me.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am. This is the men’s room,” he says politely.

  “Thank you, Dear. My mistake. Forgive me.” I remember Rayne’s warning and add, “My name is Lucy.”

  The officer smiles and nods uncomfortably. I return to the van, proud that I remembered to cover my tracks.

  Shadow shows a little more zest as the day passes.

  We drive on for another hour. Dusk is falling as we turn off the highway to find a place to stay on the outskirts of Kenora. The sky is hidden behind massive charcoal clouds and raindrops are just beginning to splat onto the windshield. We pull into the Pines Motel.

  Rayne’s eyes are rimmed with fatigue as he slides from the van.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says. “I’ll tell them I need a room for my grandma and aunt, like before, and one for me. Try to keep Shadow out of sight.”

  Rayne enters the motel office and returns soon after with two room keys. “Perfect—they took the cash, had a look at my driver’s license and the license plate—done. Simple. I love having the rental. It makes life so much easier.” He unlocks the doors to adjacent rooms. The rain is coming down in a heavy drizzle now, forming huge puddles in the parking lot.

  “I’m toast. I think I’ll turn in and try to catch up on my sleep,” Rayne says. He unloads the packs and his guitar and sneaks Shadow past the no pets sign posted just inside the room.

  “You need to keep quiet, Girl,” I hear him say as he disappears inside.

  I am wide awake. Audrey and I freshen up, have a bite to eat from the food stashed in the cooler, then look out into the darkness. The rain has stopped and droplets glow like fireflies on the branches as the lights from the window and the full moon reflect off them.

  “It looks like tinsel on a Christmas tree,” Audrey says.

  “Christmas will be here before we know it, and I haven’t bought the kids anything yet. Time slips by so fast, I just can’t keep up anymore.”

  “I have some money. We can shop tomorrow if you want,” Audrey says. “I’m gonna buy something for Rayne.”

  I look around the room. The curtains and bedspreads are in matching shades of drab turquoise. What is it with that color? It’s everywhere I go. The place is clean enough. In fact, it has a slightly antiseptic smell but just feels uncomfortable, if oddly familiar. It is small and except for the large lamp by the window, sort of dim. Why is this room having this effect on me? I glance at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Late, but I’m not ready to go to sleep.

  “I’m not tired. I’m going for a walk,” I announce. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Audrey rubs her hip. “Just a short walk
? My leg is sore, but it could be from sitting so much. The exercise might do me some good.”

  12

  We pull on sweaters and shoes and start out the door. Audrey notices the room key on the desk. “We better take the key so we can get back in.”

  “What if we lose it? We should leave it here,” I say.

  “But we won’t be able to get in.”

  “We’ll leave the door unlocked. We won’t be long,” I say. “Here, just put this book in the door so it doesn’t close all the way.” I wedge the local business directory in the doorframe.

  The air is so fresh, wild, flushed from the end-of-day rainstorm. It’s warm—mid-August I think—and the full moon shines in all the puddles and leaves and along the strip of pavement that leads away from the motel. We plod steadily along the road, listening to the sounds of traffic on the highway a short distance away. We walk in the opposite direction. The silence balloons around us.

  “We should turn around,” Audrey says. “We better not go too far, or we might get lost. Besides, I’m getting tired.”

  “Just smell that,” I say, ignoring Audrey. “It’s so big and clean.” We come upon a driveway carved through the trees. “Look, Audrey. It’s our house.” I turn into the lane and pick my way carefully toward the house at the end of the drive. Audrey follows, cautious of her footing on the muddy ground. The porch light shines blue, just bright enough to illuminate the front of the house but not the surrounding property. Two worn wicker rocking chairs sit on either side of a rustic twig table. The chairs have high backs and thick cushions covered in bright fabric. Inside the house it’s dark and quiet.

  “Can we just rest for a minute before we walk back?” Audrey whispers.

  I smile. “We can do whatever we want. Let’s sit.”

  We drop down into the soft seats and rock back and forth in this private paradise making a quiet, creaking rhythm on the wooden floor.

  I awaken at dawn to the laughter of small children. With eyes closed, I delight in the giggles. But these are my small children, playing unsupervised somewhere while I doze carelessly. I look around at the gardens, the tricycles and swing set in the yard, and at Fraise, sleeping in the chair beside me. I try to stand, but pain stabs through my back. I try again, manage to rise partway and turn around to face the house. Behind a large window, a curious young woman peers out at me. The laughter has stopped and there are two children peeking out from behind this lady’s back.

  I sit down in the chair.

  The woman opens the door and peers out. Fraise opens her eyes and lets out a raspy scream, but doesn’t move from her seat next to mine.

  The woman rallies her boys back from the door and tells them to stay inside, then steps out onto the porch, scanning the yard. She wears a knee-length, blue nightgown with embroidered yellow flowers and speaks in a gentle voice, like a kindergarten teacher on the first day of school.

  “Can I help you?” she asks, looking around the yard again as if expecting a crowd of people to emerge from the bushes.

  I gather the thoughts from their jumbled place inside my head. “Fraise and I, we thought this was our house. We fell asleep.”

  Fraise speaks up. “Ethel. I’m Ethel and this is Lucy.”

  I continue, “I thought I heard my children laughing. Where are Tom and Carol? Do you know?”

  The young woman can see her boys through the screen door. She moves closer to me. “Is it your grandchildren you’re looking for? Are you lost? I can help you.”

  Fraise answers. “I think we are lost. Do you have anything to eat?”

  I can’t believe that Fraise is worried about eating when the kids are missing. Before the woman can answer, I ask again, my voice rising in pitch. “Do you know where Tom and Carol are? I heard them laughing.”

  The woman kneels in front of me. “I’m Susan. I live here, and the children you heard were my two sons, Travis and Trevor. I don’t know where your children are, but maybe

  I can help you find them.”

  She talks slowly as if calculating each phrase. I can sense she is sincere and wants to help.

  She looks down the driveway and around the yard. “How did you get here?”

  I only remember waking up in this chair.

  Fraise shrugs and scratches her head. She looks down at her shoes. They are covered in dried mud. “I think we must have walked.”

  Susan turns back toward the door. “While we figure this out, I’m going to make you a pot of tea and some toast. Will you wait here?” She raises her eyebrows in a pleading expression, a look that says she is unsure we’ll still be there when she returns.

  When the woman has gone, Fraise leans over, bringing her face close to mine. “Lillian, are you okay? You’re very quiet.”

  My eyes feel like they’re coated in a translucent film. “I’m losing things—not things—not things you can hold in your hand. It’s scary.”

  She reaches for my hand, then rises from her chair with grunts and groans and moves closer. “It’s gonna be fine, Honey. We’re almost to Manitoba.”

  We hear water running in the kitchen and the kettle clattering on the stove. The television is switched on and cartoon voices and songs dance out through the screen door. I feel like I am someone else watching all of this from some other place. It all seems far away.

  Susan returns to the porch, carrying a tray that she sets on the table. She hands us each a plate of toast with jam and pours three cups of tea. The two little boys follow her, one balancing a plate of apple wedges and the other, squares of cheese. She leans against the railing and looks back and forth at her two unexpected guests. The sun is just beginning to show from around the side of the house.

  “Now then, what are your names again?”

  Fraise repeats the names she has practiced over and over in her head. “Lucy and Ethel.”

  I watch her as she says these and repeat them to hear how they sound coming from my mouth. “Lucy and Ethel.” They’re familiar, and so I let them rest there.

  “Okay,” Susan says. “Lucy, Ethel, do you live around here?”

  I look at Fraise for the answer. “No,” she says, hesitantly. “We’re going to British Columbia.” She stops and scratches her head again. Her eyes return to the mud on her shoes. She moves her cane and notices that it, too, is muddy an inch or so up the shaft. She looks back at Susan and smiles.

  “We walked here last night.”

  I hear the words but do not grasp their meaning. I replay the names in my head—Audrey, Fraise, Ethel, Lucy. I can’t place exactly who this woman is, sitting beside me with such natural intimacy. She must be Ethel.

  She has clearly started to relax as she continues with her story. “We went for a walk last night and thought this was our house. I guess we fell asleep and stayed all night. What a great vacation we’re having. Each day it’s something new.”

  The two little boys plop down in front of our chairs.

  “Did you know we’re twins?” one of them asks.

  “Yeah, we were born on the same day and we have the same birthday every year,” the other says. “We’re four.”

  “I like trucks. My daddy’s a truck driver.”

  “I like trucks,” the other boy says, as if only one of them can have that favorite as his own. “You’re copying me.”

  “I like trucks too,” Ethel says. “Our new car is like a truck. I can see everything from way up there.”

  One of the little boys takes hold of Ethel’s hand and tugs. “Do you want to go on the swings? Come on, you can push me.”

  “Travis, Honey, be careful. Maybe Ethel doesn’t want to push you on the swings right now,” Susan says.

  “No, that sounds like fun,” Ethel says. “Just give me a minute to get moving, Sweetheart. I’m a little slow.”

  She follows him to the s
wing set. Trevor sits on the porch, munching on cheese.

  “They are so adorable,” I say to Susan.

  “They don’t get to see their grandparents much,” she says. “They live in Nova Scotia. I’m glad you stopped in.”

  She is so kind to us. I can see that she’s glad to have company but still curious about who we are and why we’re here. I am feeling the same.

  “I’m glad too,” I say. “You and your children are very nice. Thank you for everything.”

  Trevor eases up onto my lap. “Don’t go yet. We can play Go Fish. We know how.”

  I recognize the card game. We play it sometimes at the nursing home. It is one of the games I can play without getting lost, at least most of the time.

  “Why don’t you go and play on the swings with Travis and Ethel?” Susan says. “I need to talk to Lucy for a minute.”

  She sits beside me in the other chair. “Now, can you tell me how you got here? Is there anyone else with you?” she asks.

  We did walk here. That is clear to me, but I can’t remember for the life of me where we walked from, so I try to fake it. “We do have a car and we must be staying nearby. We just got lost and decided to stay here where it felt safe until morning. It was really dark last night. There weren’t any stars.”

  “Sounds frightening. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

  “Me too,” I say. “My friend and I, we should really get going. You must have lots to do. We’ll be on our way. I’m sure our car is just on the road somewhere near here. Thank you for everything.”

  “Nonsense. I’m not sending you off like that. We’ll go together. Just give me a minute to get dressed and we’ll take a little walk. Please wait here.” She looks at me like she is studying a puzzle. “Is there someone we should call to let them know you’re safe?”

  “No. There’s no one. Just us.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. We’re on vacation. Just two friends on vacation.”

  “Wait here. Promise?”

  I nod. This lady cares about us. I don’t really want to leave.