Nothing But Blue

by Lisa Jahn-Clough

  Dumpling puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Blue. You didn’t tell them. They’ve known we were here for eons. It was only a matter of time.” She glares at Onion. “Onion knows that, too.”

  “Three years,” Onion says. “That’s a long stretch. We’ll have to pack up and move on again.” He gives me a wry smile, and his tone completely shifts. “We don’t need half this shit we’ve collected in the last three years. Maybe it’s a blessing to have to move.”

  Cracker Jack takes my hand and makes a song out of my name. Shadow nuzzles my other hand.

  “Sure you don’t want to come with us, Blue? Help us settle in a new town? Start all over?” Onion asks. “You’re kind of one of us. Even if you need some train-hopping training.”

  I shake my head. “I have to go,” I say. “I have to go home. I just came to warn you.”

  There is silence for a minute. Then Onion jumps up. “Well, then,” he says. “We’ve got to rouse everyone and break down camp. You best head out.”

  “Where will you go?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Dumpling says. “We’re tinkers. We’ll find things. We’ll fix things. We’ll make a new home. We’ll carry on.”

  “Bye, Boo!” Cracker Jack wraps his little arms around my leg.

  Onion comes over. “Thanks for the warning.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a survivor, like Snake said.”

  As I walk away I hear them waking everyone up, and the town begins to rustle with movement. They will be okay.

  BEFORE

  We moved. Five hundred miles west, five hundred miles from the coast, five hundred miles from home. We got there just as it was getting dark. The house was all one level, no winding staircase with a curved banister, no creaking, loose floorboard where I could hide things, no surf, no salty breeze, no seagulls. The rooms were big and barren and carpeted. Everything was clean and slick. The movers had already arrived, and boxes were stacked everywhere. All of our stuff stuffed into cardboard.

  We’d been there less than an hour and Mom was already on her computer sitting in one of the unwrapped chairs at the kitchen breakfast bar, prepping for work.

  “Where’s all the sheets and stuff?” I asked. “I want to go to bed.”

  “I think the linen boxes are downstairs.”

  I found Dad in the basement-den, on his knees fiddling with some electric wires and mumbling to himself. He raised a hand when he saw me. “Whoever built this house didn’t have his head on straight. It looks like these wires go right over the gas line. In the floor, of all places. This can’t be up to code.”

  “This was a mistake,” I said.

  He frowned. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’ll get someone in to rewire the whole place.” He stood straight.

  “No, I mean all of this. Moving. This house. I hate it here!” I grabbed a box labeled “Linen” and ran upstairs and shut the door on him. I wanted to hit something. Instead I just yelled. “I will never forgive you for making me move here. I want to go home!”

  Dad followed me into the kitchen, where Mom looked up from her laptop. She gave him a warning glance, as if it was his responsibility to keep me quiet.

  “You can’t go back,” my dad said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Mom sighed. “Please don’t have a fit. We live here now. You only have one year of high school left. Then you’ll be going to college.”

  “What if I don’t want to go to college?” My voice rose.

  Now both my parents sighed.

  “Of course you’re going to go to college,” my mother said.

  “Well, what if I don’t get in? Did you ever think of that? What if you have to admit you have a stupid daughter?” It was true, my grades weren’t more than average and my extracurricular activities were pathetic, to say the least.

  Mom stood and closed her computer. “I know you’re upset right now, but it will get better, sweetie, you’ll see. This is still so new.”

  She tried to touch me, but I jerked away, accidentally hitting her arm as I did.

  “You are out of your mind if you think I’m going to stay in this town one more second than I have to!” I yelled. “There’s nothing to do here!”

  “You didn’t do anything in our old town, either.” Now Mom’s voice was rising. “You just sat around all day watching TV, eating crap food, and seeing that no-good boy behind our backs.”

  “That’s not true! You don’t know anything about my life!” I held up my wrist and pointed to the bracelet. “See this? He gave it to me. He loved me! He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” I ran down the long hallway to my new, ugly bedroom. I turned around and gave my parents one more outburst. “I wish you and this house would disappear!”

  I slammed the door. I threw myself down on the mattress. We hadn’t even set up the bed frame yet.

  If I’d had anywhere to go, I would’ve snuck out and stayed there all night. I would have gone all the way back home if I could. I started to cry. I was fat and ugly and alone. I just wanted to be home. Maybe at first Jake had only asked me out on a bet, but in the end he liked me. He actually liked me. He said so.

  The next morning I woke up early. There was no sound of gulls, no smell of ocean. It was hot and still. The weather here was supermuggy in the summer and supercold and snowy in the winter. Something about the effect of the valley and the lake. It was the absolute worst of both seasons.

  I went to the kitchen to make coffee. I couldn’t find the coffee machine or filters or anything in any of the boxes. Mom and Dad were still asleep. I threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, slid into my flip-flops. There must be a café or a convenience store or something where I could find a cup of coffee. I locked the door behind me and wandered out in search of caffeine.

  NOW

  I’m back on the road going east. Cars pass. An RV slows down and stops several yards ahead. When I reach it, a wrinkled, red-bearded man opens the door and steps down.

  He asks, “You need a ride?”

  I hesitate, not sure if he’s safe.

  “We’re headed to the coast, if you want to hop along.” He gestures for me to climb in.

  I let Shadow sniff the guy to see if he gets the Shadow approval. He does, so I say okay. Shadow jumps into the RV before me. Inside, a woman is behind the wheel. She’s got snow-white hair in a short cut.

  “Howdy,” she says. She puts her hand out for Shadow and pats his head. “I’m Ellen. This is Arthur.”

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say.

  “Make yourself at home.” Arthur sits in the passenger seat and points to the back.

  It’s set up like a cozy living room with a couple of cushioned chairs, a table that folds out from the wall, a sink and mirror in the corner with some built-in cupboards over them. Long benches covered in padding and pillows stretch along the edge of the roof —room enough for four to sleep. I sit in one of the chairs.

  “Where you headed?” Ellen asks.

  “Home,” I say. I am used to saying it now, even if it doesn’t quite ring true.

  She tips a pretend hat. “Home is good. We sold our house for this RV. Drove it south, lived there six months, and now we’re heading back. We didn’t fit in down there.”

  “In other words, I don’t play golf,” Arthur says.

  “And I don’t wear perfume,” Ellen says. They continue with a back-and-forth routine, telling the story together.

  Arthur: “And we actually missed the winters.”

  Ellen: “And the humidity made my hair go wonky.”

  Arthur: “And call me crazy, but I just don’t like alligators.”

  Ellen: “Or brown recluse spiders.”

  Arthur: “Or the politics—but don’t get me started on that.”

  Ellen: “This is our home now. We can go anywhere.”

  Arthur puts his hand on the top of Ellen’s head. “Home is wherever you are, bunny rabbit.”

  Ellen blushes and r
olls her eyes, but she smiles at the same time and touches his hand with her own. She turns to me. “Would you believe we’ve been together fifty years?”

  “Best fifty years of my life.” Arthur says. “You know what the secret is?” He faces me.

  I shake my head.

  “No kids,” he says.

  “Don’t tell her that, Arthur. She’s just a kid herself. She might want kids.” Ellen turns around. “Don’t listen to him. Plenty of couples with kids are completely happy.”

  “It wouldn’t have been good for us,” Arthur explains, although he’s facing Ellen now. “We’re artists. We’re self-centered and pompous.”

  “Speak for yourself.” She rolls her eyes again.

  “Excuse me,” Arthur says. “I’m self-centered and pompous. Ellen is an angel.”

  “Not exactly. I’m self-centered, too.” Ellen smiles.

  Arthur turns to me again. “You got parents?”

  I don’t know what to say. I do, don’t I? Isn’t that where I’m going? To see my parents? Tell them I’m sorry. And to see Jake? Find out if he really liked me. My heart beats fast as I nod my head slowly.

  “Of course you do. Everyone’s got parents, even if they’re not around,” Arthur says, matter of factly.

  Ellen makes a clucking sound of annoyance. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

  “Sorry,” he says to her, then to me, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

  They are quiet after that. Arthur puts in a CD and starts to hum. Soon they are both singing as if I weren’t there. Their voices are soothing.

  What did I know about my parents, really? Did they even love me? I guessed they did because I was their daughter and they had to. The same way I loved them because they were my parents. But was I an embarrassment to them? Was I someone who held them back from what they really wanted? My mother would have finished law school long ago if she hadn’t had me. My father would have been able to futz around and do carpentry projects. Life would have been so much easier if I never existed in the first place.

  I stare out the window at the pine trees on the side of the road. Someone like me could be hiding out there, surviving, living separate from the rest of the world. But perhaps it is not so separate after all. Snake, the people at Hobo Town, even Ellen and Arthur are laughing, crying, loving, working, moving, just the same as everyone else. They have joy and they have problems. They have life.

  What was it I had loved about Jake? I can’t remember. He seems so long ago in another time. I don’t even remember who I was before now.

  We drive past some cows in a field. They go by so fast. They don’t talk to me. They don’t notice me—why should they care about another vehicle passing? It happens all the time.

  We take a ramp onto the highway, and I am in sudden culture shock. Cars come from all directions, whizzing by at high speed. Even though the RV is big and old, Ellen keeps up with the traffic. It feels like the world is spinning out of control. Who can be in the moment when everything is headed so fast to get somewhere in the future? What will be there when I get home?

  All dead. All dead. Who is all dead?

  I concentrate on Ellen and Arthur singing, the steady whir of traffic and the occasional honking of car horns. I concentrate on staying awake, but my eyelids are so heavy I have to close them for a minute.

  I see my yellow house. I see my parents waiting for me in the doorway like they used to when I came home from elementary school. They look different. They look happy. They walk down the driveway. My father opens his arms ready to embrace me. My mother quickens her pace. When they are only a few steps away, my father stretches out his hand to touch me, my mother reaches to kiss me. But right before they get to me, in a sudden instant, they wither and crumble to the ground. Their bodies are gone and there is only smoke and dust. Some of the dust lies in a pile at my feet; some drifts into the wind.

  No one survived. All dead. All dead.

  Deafening. Suffocating. I scream for help. Snake!

  A hand touches my shoulder.

  I open my eyes. The RV has stopped on the side of the highway. It is morning. Arthur is kneeling in front of me, shaking me gently. “You’ve been asleep for hours. Were you having a nightmare?”

  Shadow whimpers at my other side and licks my hand. I reach out and rub his ears. “I … I think so,” I say.

  “Was it about snakes?” Ellen stands above me looking worried. “You were yelling a word. It sounded like snake.”

  “I know someone named Snake,” I say. “He must have been there—in my dream.” I shake myself fully awake. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Ellen asks. She hands me a glass of water, which I drink readily.

  “Yeah. I just need to get home. Where are we?”

  They tell me the name of a town I recognize.

  “I’m almost there,” I say. “I can walk the rest of the way.”

  “Are you sure?” Ellen says again. “It doesn’t seem right to just drop you off after a nightmare. We can take you.”

  “It’s okay,” I say in my most convincing voice. “I want to walk. I have to.”

  Arthur nods as though he understands. “I can’t imagine you want to be dropped off by a couple of old wackos in an ancient RV.” He turns to Ellen. “We’ll probably cause more trouble for her. Not to mention embarrassment.”

  Ellen sighs. “Okay. But if something happens, promise you’ll go to the police?”

  I nod, even though it’s a lie. “I have Shadow. He protects me.”

  Gulls circle overhead. I smell the ocean. Shadow does, too. His nostrils twitch in the salty air.

  I should be excited, but I am shaking and nervous. Eudora said I would remember everything when I was ready. “Am I ready?” I whisper. Shadow leans into me and I take a minute to massage his back.

  I will go to Jake’s first. His house is before mine. After all, he is one of the people I want to see. Right? But as I turn down his street I wonder. When I try to remember his face, I see Snake. When I try to remember his touch, I feel Snake.

  Jake’s red sports car is parked in front of his house. It’s the same car, polished squeaky clean. The top is down. There are two people sitting in it. Jake and a girl. Jake leans toward her, and their heads mush together. They are making out. I know I shouldn’t be watching this, but I can’t help it. I know it should be bothering me, but it doesn’t. Not really. I don’t feel anything. Shadow sits on my foot as if trying to keep me in place.

  They break apart and Jake gets out. I can see him better now. He is wearing a tight T-shirt showing off more muscles than I remember. His hair is perfect, copper, and slick. He looks the same, but is he? Has he always been this clean-cut? Has he always looked this superficial? He’s not even that handsome. The way he swaggers around his car to open the passenger door makes him seem pompous. I remember his glistening smile, his perfectly straight teeth. I was totally sucked in by that smile. I was sucked in by all the things he said to me. I didn’t even hear the shallowness underneath. Is it possible that I was that shallow myself? I remember what Adrianna said—Jake is not all he is cracked up to be.

  The girl in the passenger seat gets out. A thin, pretty, perfect girl. Someone who would be in the elite crowd for sure. But then, maybe she’s not what she’s cracked up to be, either.

  Jake walks behind the girl, his eyes glued to her butt. Then he catches up to her and puts his arm around her. The girl flips her hair. She is totally in love with him. For a second I consider yelling out to her not to get sucked in, but before I can do anything, Jake bends over and kisses her and they go inside.

  Jake is the same. But I am not. He never loved me. And more important, I never loved him.

  I need to go home now more than ever. See my mother and my father. I have to tell them I am sorry for everything, tell them I love them. I have to make sure they’re okay.

  But there is one person I have to call first. I take the phone card and the Overlook Motel card from my pocket.

 
I turn my back on Jake and walk away, with Shadow at my heels.

  There is a pay phone outside Joe’s One-Stop. I punch in all the numbers. My heart is racing.

  “Good morning. Overlook.” It is Snake’s squirrelly voice, professional and cheerful. “May I help you?”

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Oh, hey!” He recognizes me. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “That’s good,” he says.

  I tell him about Hobo Town and the rail bulls, and how they got out in time. “It won’t be there if you go back. I don’t know where they went.”

  “They can take care of themselves,” he says. “It’s what they’re good at.”

  “But the bulls wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for me,” I say.

  “That’s not true,” Snake insists. “You saved them.” I hear yipping in the background.

  “How’s Pity?” I ask.

  “She’s a handful. She’s chewing on my shoelace right now.”

  “She’ll grow out of it.”

  “How’s Shadow?”

  I touch the tips of Shadow’s pointy ears. “He’s good,” I say.

  There is an awkward silence. The phone feels cold in my hand. Suddenly I am shivering. I want to say things, but I can’t.

  “It’s nice to hear from you,” Snake says. “I wasn’t sure I would.”

  “I wanted to let you know I got here. And I wanted to tell you about Hobo Town.” Pause. “And to thank you for”—I feel the robot clock he made for me, still in my pocket—“for the clock … and everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says.

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Listen, about that other guy …” I take a deep breath, then go on. “It’s nothing. I remembered him all wrong.”

  “That happens,” he says.

  I want to say it is okay. That everything is okay. That Snake is who I want, but it’s not quite right to say all this. There’s too much else in my head, and Snake is not part of all that. I don’t trust my feelings, and I don’t trust my memory. Not yet.

  The phone clicks the warning sign that the card is almost out of time. “I have to go,” I say.