Flee, Fly, Flown

by Janet Hepburn

  It is very dark when I wake. Audrey is lying motionless in the next bed, so I pull the blankets up and stare at the ceiling. Here we are—God knows where—heading to places unknown, and it’s good, really good. I rise from bed and stumble about looking for my purse. In my notebook, I write the names of my friends. These, I remember without a problem:

  Audrey. Rayne. Shadow.

  A couple of other things pop into my head and I write them down too:

  sunflowers. tired.

  I check the clock. Twelve thirty-seven. I lie back down and shut my eyes. The wind howls outside, and the vent in the ceiling pops like those plastic packing bubbles when you squeeze them. Audrey wheezes and snorts.

  The day dawns calm and bright. I sit on the side of the bathtub, pull on the tap, and dangle my fingers in the running water, waiting for it to warm up. I pull and turn, push the tap and wait. Still, it runs cold. Finally, I turn it off and wash up at the sink.

  There is a knock at the bathroom door. “Can I come in? I need to go.”

  Audrey rushes in.

  “Just finished. It’s all yours,” I say. “Just don’t try to have a bath. The water’s freezing.”

  We meet up with Rayne and find a small diner a block away.

  “I called my dad last night,” Rayne says. “He actually sounded happy to hear from me. We had the usual awkward silences where he tries not to say what he’s really thinking and I try not to notice, but I think it’s gonna be okay.”

  The waitress brings the food.

  “Did you tell him about us?” Audrey asks.

  “Not specifically. I told him I’m traveling with friends.”

  Audrey’s smile is huge. “We heard you playing your guitar this morning. You’re very talented.”

  I’m pretty sure he’s blushing.

  “We’ll be in Regina by noon and then Swift Current or maybe even the Alberta border by late afternoon. We’ll see how the day goes,” Rayne says. “What do you think about that, Lillian?”

  “Sounds good. Are we really almost to Alberta? That’s where the Rocky Mountains start I think. I’ve never been in the mountains before.”

  “You’re gonna love it. We don’t get into serious elevations until we get to Calgary and west of there, but we’ll be into the foothills before that.”

  “I like it here. Do we have to go somewhere today?

  It would be nice just to rest and maybe shop or something,” Audrey says.

  “I think we should keep going,” Rayne says. “It’s day five and people must be getting anxious to hear from you.”

  “What people?” I ask.

  “Nursing home people and your families,” Rayne answers. “I wonder what they said when the police called to tell them you’re safe. We should have stuck around to find out. The police weren’t supposed to say where you were, but it wouldn’t be hard to find out where the call originated.”

  “We should keep moving,” I say. “Besides, I’m anxious to see the mountains.”

  Audrey scoops the last of the scrambled eggs into her mouth and washes them down with coffee. There is a bright red smudge of ketchup on her sleeve but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  15

  On our way out of town, I pull my pen and paper out. The colors outside are as vivid as acrylic paint in the mid-morning sun. I imagine myself walking to the horizon in my navy pants and pale blue shirt; picture the trek as color wading through color.

  To my right, Shadow too, is watching the scenery fly by, her nose mashed against the window trailing smudge marks as she turns and jostles with the motion of the van. She is fascinated, standing on the seat and taking it all in. She pants, her tail wags then stops, then wags again. She whimpers, then she’s silent. What does she see? What does she think? Does she understand that the world out there is separate from the world in the van?

  I run my hand down Shadow’s back. She turns and licks me and tries to inch up onto my knee, settling for a precarious balancing act, back legs on the floor and front paws in my lap, gazing at me eye-to-eye. I laugh and throw my arms around her neck.

  We’ve been driving forever. My backside is sore but I’m not complaining. We have a purpose now—to get farther away and to see the mountains.

  “Look at that,” Rayne says, pointing across the plains at two grain elevators, one nearby and one in the distance.

  “It looks like a postcard,” I say.

  “They’re tearing them down—the grain elevators. I don’t know much about how they grow and store grain now, but

  I understand hundreds of the old wooden elevators have been demolished. It seems wrong. It just feels like they need to be there standing guard over the fields and towns.”

  “You hold on pretty tightly to tradition for a young guy,” Audrey says, looking at his profile as he drives. “You love old things, admit it.”

  “Old things, not necessarily old people,” he says.

  “Hey! I know you don’t mean that.”

  “You think I’m joking?” Rayne looks at Audrey and smiles.

  “No need to share this with anyone, right?” he says. “I don’t want it getting around that I’m all sensitive and empathetic.”

  “Secrets are safe with us,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Rayne says. “Sorry.”

  “Where are we now?” I ask.

  “Outside of Regina.”

  “Almost to the mountains?” asks Audrey.

  “Tomorrow we’ll start to see mountains,” Rayne says. “Let’s keep going so we can make that happen.”

  “Where do you live, Audrey?” I ask, leaning forward as far as my seatbelt will allow.

  “Ottawa. I’ve always lived there.”

  “I know, but where? Do you have a house?”

  “Yep,” Audrey says. “Terry and I live in a house

  on Griffin Avenue.” She pauses. “No—we used to but Terry died.”

  “Do you still live there?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do I live there too?” I ask.

  “Yes, we all do. Not you,” Audrey says, pointing at Rayne. “A lot of people live there and we have a big dining room where we all eat.”

  She’s right. I remember the room now. “And that lady sits at our table.”

  “Yeah.”

  The fields of wheat are separated by rows of trees.

  I imagine that from a plane they must look like a quilt, the patchwork stitched together in straight, dark lines. I catch sight of a road sign pointing south of the highway. “Welcome to Moose Jaw, the Friendly City,” I read aloud.

  “The friendly city. We should go there.”

  Rayne agrees. “Why not? We could use a break. Let’s take half an hour to see what Moose Jaw is all about.”

  We drive into the city.

  “A casino!” Audrey says. “Can we go there?”

  Rayne laughs. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be a new experiment for me. Have you ever been to a casino, Lillian?”

  “Never. Let’s do it,” I say.

  “We don’t have much cash to spare,” Rayne warns.

  “How much do we need?”

  He pulls into the parking lot. “Twenty dollars each could last two minutes or two hours. Depends on whether you’re lucky or not.”

  Audrey is already out of her seatbelt and opening the door. “Come on Lillian, this is gonna be fun.”

  The lobby has high ceilings and a muffled, velvety feel underfoot. A man in a suit smiles and nods, then speaks

  to Rayne.

  He examines Rayne’s driver’s license, then quickly thanks him and welcomes him through.

  “What was that about?” I ask.

  “Just wanted to make sure I was over eighteen.”

  �
�Good heavens,” I say. “That’s odd. I wonder why he doesn’t ask us.”

  The lobby opens up into a much larger room filled with color and flashing lights, beeping, and ringing bells. Machines line every wall and fill every space with bright scrolling numbers and images. In the middle of the room, people in shirts and ties stand at tables, spinning wheels and dealing cards.

  “What do we do?” Audrey shouts.

  “Follow me.” Rayne leads us past the gaming tables and several machines that wink and whir. He stops in front of a bank of slot machines that all display the same three images in different orders: big red number sevens, sevens engulfed in flames, and black rectangles with the word bar emblazed on them.

  “Blazing Sevens is the easiest to understand,” Rayne says, “You bet three quarters at a time.”

  We find two unoccupied machines beside each other and squeeze into the seats. Rayne stands behind.

  “Now, take a twenty-dollar bill and feed it into the slot,” he says.

  We do as we’re told and the display shows eighty credits.

  “Always bet the full amount on each roll,” he says. He reaches over Audrey’s shoulder and points to the max bet button. “Push that.”

  Audrey touches the button and looks up at the screen.

  A burning seven, a regular seven and a bar line up along the line.

  “Did I win anything?” she asks.

  “Nope. Try again,” Rayne says. He shows her how to hit the single bet button three times and pull the handle. She likes that.

  “This is what I imagined it would be like,” she says, her face wrinkling into a huge smile.

  I watch carefully. “I don’t get it,” I say. “How do you win?”

  Rayne points to the line that runs across the center of the screen. “Any time three matching icons land on the line, you win. If it’s three bars or three sets of three bars, you win ten or twenty or forty quarters. If it’s three sevens, you win hundreds and three blazing sevens…” he points up at the video display above, “you win that…six hundred and seventy-two dollars.”

  “That’s very complicated. Just watch me and tell me if I win.” I push the max bet button. Three sevens show up in the display screen but not evenly aligned.

  “I win. I got three sevens,” I say, tapping Audrey on the arm.

  “I’m afraid not,” Rayne says. “They have to be on the line.”

  “Hell’s bells! That’s not fair.” I stare at the screen, willing the numbers to move into synch. I pound my fist down on the button and one of each picture choice spreads unevenly across the screen. “I don’t like this game. Let’s go.” I pick up my purse and stand up to leave.

  “I’m not done yet,” Audrey says. “Am I?” She looks at Rayne. “How do I know when I’m done?”

  He points to the smaller number on the panel. “You have sixty-five credits left and Lillian has seventy-four.”

  On her next pull of the handle, Audrey spins three triple bars and her total goes up to one hundred and five. This is getting more interesting.

  Audrey hoots with excitement and continues to play. In minutes, her twenty dollars are gone.

  My machine still boasts seventy-four credits. I glare at the display screen, decide I’m ready to continue. I push the single bet three times slowly, deliberately, then reach up and pull the handle. One blazing seven, two blazing sevens, one double bar.

  “Damn!” I slide awkwardly from my chair and step back. “This isn’t as much fun as I thought. Can I get my money back?”

  “You still have some credits. Do you want to cash out?” Rayne asks.

  “Yes. I’m done,” I say. I feel a pout forming on my lips.

  Rayne reaches over to hit the cash out button but instead, hits max bet.

  Three sevens, surrounded in flames, pop into place along the center line. A bell rings out and a light on top of the machine spins, splashing red on Rayne’s face.

  “What on earth? Did we win?” Audrey’s eyes grow wide.

  “Oh, yeah!” Rayne says. “You two have an amazing lucky streak that follows you around.”

  Audrey raises her hands in the air and shouts. “Yahoo! The big one? Did we win the big one?”

  He doesn’t answer at first. He looks at the screen,

  lowers his voice and says, “No, not the big one. But we did win something.”

  A lady in a blue suit approaches with keys jangling from her hand. She slides the key into a slot and the flashing light and bells stop. “How would you like your winnings?” she asks, looking at Rayne.

  “Cash, please,” he says.

  “I’ll be right back.” The woman leaves us standing in front of the machine, a bit disoriented and very pleased.

  “It’s that easy?” I ask. “She’ll come back with cash and we get to leave?”

  “Yep. It seems simple. It doesn’t usually work that way when I gamble, but today we got lucky.”

  The man at the machine beside mine nods congratulations in our direction. I feel like a celebrity. Players at nearby terminals watch the attendant return with the money. She counts it out into Rayne’s palm, but with all the confusion,

  I can’t see or hear the amount. He tucks it into his pocket.

  We follow Rayne out through the maze of machines and past the man in the lobby. Inside the van, Rayne hands each of us fifty dollars.

  “Congratulations,” he says.

  “That’s it?” I ask. “With all the lights and bells, it seemed like we won millions.”

  “Yeah, that’s just to keep everyone playing; it adds to the excitement. You made money though, right? That’s better than most people in there.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I say.

  “Time’s up. We need to get back on the road.”

  Audrey sits up straight, her shoulders back and head high. “That was fun! Did you see me get three bars?

  I won too.”

  Rayne glances over at her as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Yeah, we all won.”

  I stuff the bills in my purse and open my notebook:

  sevens on fire. bright lights. winning at the casino.

  Audrey starts to sing, softly at first, her voice rising with each line.

  “Oh, we ain’t got a barrel of money,

  Maybe we’re ragged and funny,

  But we travel along, singin’ our song,

  Side by side.”

  I join in and together, we finish the song, every word familiar, every note true.

  “We sang that in the car, my mom and I,” Audrey says. “Dad didn’t sing. He just drove. We lived on the farm on the outskirts of Ottawa, near Blackburn. We’d go into town on Saturdays to shop for groceries and I’d get some licorice or gumballs. I felt like everything was fine when we sang, everything would be okay.”

  I reach over to pet Shadow. “Albert sings that song to me when I’m worried about money. There’s always something we need, something that’s broken and needs to be replaced—never enough money with little kids. He holds my hand and sings and we laugh.”

  I run my hand repeatedly, rhythmically down Shadow’s back, smoothing and smoothing her hair.

  “Terry always worries about the money. We live modestly, and with no kids we don’t really need much. I squirrel away what I can for our retirement.” Audrey looks like she isn’t sure whether or not to go on. “Terry is…good to me. He worries about me a lot. He always says ‘For God’s sake, why didn’t you call to say you were gonna be late?’” She stops and rubs her hands together as if she’s cold.

  “Why does he always want to know where you are?” I ask. “It would drive me crazy, having to report in all the time.”

  “No. He loves me. He doesn’t like me talking to other men though. Sometimes I have to do fittings for men’s suits,
alterations for pants and things. He hates that—says it isn’t right. Now, I let on that I just do women’s alterations. It’s just easier not to upset him. I never actually lie, I just don’t tell him everything.”

  I nod. “I guess I’m lucky that way. Albert doesn’t worry like that. I do a lot of things on my own and with friends. Nothing too daring mind you, but Albert’s always good about it. He’ll say ‘You go ahead; the kids and I will handle it’ and they do—better than me sometimes.”

  Audrey nestles more comfortably into her seat and hums quietly until she dozes off.

  “I should have brought my knitting along for the trip,”

  I say. “I could have finished that sweater for Carol if I’d known we’d be gone so long, the one with the kittens.”

  Albert tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “We’ll be there before you know it.”

  “Is Fraise asleep up there?” I ask. “Honestly, she can fall asleep anywhere. I bet she could sleep standing up in the middle of traffic.”

  “She’s tired,” Albert says. “Why don’t you have a nap too?”

  “No, I’ll keep you company. It’s the least I can do; you’re so good to me.”

  I turn my attention to the dog. “Blondie, come here, Puppy.”

  She raises her head and wags her tail but remains curled up on the floor.

  “Good girl, stay,” I say. I hold my hands out and look closely at my wedding band. I spin it around on my finger so it sits perfectly positioned there. “My ring is getting too big,

  I should have it resized. I must be getting thinner.”

  Fraise’s rumbling breath draws my attention back to the front seat.

  “It’s funny that Fraise never married, don’t you think? Thank goodness she didn’t though. If she was busy with her own family, she might not have been so attentive to us when we were kids. I’m so glad we’re back together again. I kind of let her slip out of my life a bit when I got busy with the kids and teaching and everything. Why do we do that? Why do we let the people we love just fade into the background like that?”

  “You know what? This would be a great time for you to relax and have a sleep,” Albert says, a little too persuasively. “We still have a ways to go before we stop, so just put your head back and rest.”