Mazie Baby

by Julie Frayn

  Ariel sniffed and snatched her hand away.

  Mazie drove northeast along highway sixty-three. Forty minutes passed before either spoke another word.

  Ariel squirmed in her seat. “I need to pee.”

  “Next gas station.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not sure yet.” The route was unfamiliar. She’d never ventured north of North Bay and had no idea what lay ahead. Twenty minutes later they approached a small township. “Here, there has to be somewhere to stop.”

  The Charger lurched through the hamlet, the streets eerie and quiet. “There. A restaurant.” Mazie pulled up to the front of the building, the parking lot abandoned. A faded sign hung from the door, its text barely visible through the filthy glass. “Damn it.” She glanced at the clock. “Closed at supper time?”

  They got back on the highway and were soon on a bridge over the Ottawa River. “Look, bug. We’re in Quebec. I’ve never been to Quebec before.”

  “Does Quebec have bathrooms?”

  The highway veered left and then right, went over another bridge then turned a sharp left.

  “Tem-is-cam-ing-uh.” Ariel shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “Me either. But there’s a Shell station.” Mazie checked the gas gauge. “May as well top up the tank. This old thing is a guzzler.”

  A bell jangled when she pushed the door open. The place reeked of dirt, motor oil, and burned coffee.

  The woman behind the counter looked up and broke out into a huge smile. “Bonjour madam et mademoiselle.”

  Mazie nodded. “Bonjour.” Her hard “j” gave her away as full-on Anglo.

  “Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui? Avez-vous besoin de gaz? Café?”

  All she got was ‘coffee.’ Mazie shook her head. “Sorry, do you speak English?”

  “Oui, madame.”

  “Is there a bathroom? And I need to top up the tank and grab a coffee.”

  The woman smiled. “How much dollars you want for gas?”

  “Ten ought to do.”

  “The bathrooms, they are down the hall.” She pointed behind Mazie.

  “Merci.” She tugged on Ariel’s sleeve. “You go first. I’ll fill up and meet you back here. Pour me a coffee?”

  Ariel was already on her way to the bathroom. She waved over her shoulder.

  “Your daughter, she is teenage, no?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ah.” The woman nodded. “She act like it.”

  Mazie paid for the gas, coffee, and a map of the area. She gave Ariel the keys to the car. “Don’t start it, just turn the key part way for the radio.”

  Ariel rolled her eyes. “I know how.”

  Mazie sat on the toilet, sighed when the pressure in her full bladder started to ease. She dug the phone out of her purse and stared at the voice mail alert.

  Damn that Rachel. Maybe she was apologizing for ratting her out to the cops. Or maybe it was just Polly dying to tell Ariel about the latest cute boy in school. It didn’t matter now.

  She popped the SIM card out of her phone and crushed it under the wooden heel of her sandal. She gathered up the remains and dropped them into the toilet. She’d seen enough cop shows to know that they could track her by that damn phone. She watched the bits of it swirl, swimming in a yellow eddy until gravity sucked it down the pipe and out into the Quebec sewer system.

  She stared at her reflection while she scrubbed her hands. She should feel free. Should be happy to be rid of him. Instead she’d tightened her own shackles and thrown away the key.

  ~~~~~~~~

  After a modest dinner of tuna sandwiches and grandma’s homemade cookies, they’d continued north until darkness swallowed the world around them. Ariel slipped into a fitful sleep, a pillow wedged between her head and the window pane.

  She hadn’t asked again about the drama whirling around her. Didn’t mention her father or going home. Only asked if she could call Polly, spoke of the fun she had in the Simpson’s home, how nice Rachel was, how she treated her with kindness. “Did you know she plays DDR with us, Mom? You should play next time.”

  “DDR?”

  “Dance Dance Revolution.”

  Mazie laughed. “Well I do love to dance.” Or she used to.

  Lights of a roadside motel glowed ahead at the end of a long bend in the highway. She’d begun to think they’d be sleeping in the car.

  Gravel crunched under the tires. Mazie parked in front of the office, a neon vacancy sign flickered above the door. She shook her daughter. “Wake up.”

  Ariel rubbed her eyes and looked around. “Where are we?”

  “We’re at a motel. Grab your bag.”

  They entered the office, empty except for a dim lamp, a smouldering cigarette, and a tiny television sitting on the desk, the volume low. A chrome bell sat on the counter. Ariel tapped it with her palm. A sharp clang rang through the silence.

  “One sec!” The voice came from a back room.

  A man, as wide as he was short, came through the entry. He eyed them over the top of wire-rimmed glasses that looked like they may fall from the tip of his bulbous nose. The entire room reeked of whiskey.

  Mazie’s stomach lurched.

  He waddled behind the counter, a beaming smile pinched the corners of his eyes. “What can I do for you ladies?”

  “Do you have any vacancies?”

  His laughter belched from deep inside his oversized belly. “Honey, all I got is vacancies.” He dragged an open ledger closer and picked up a pencil. He licked the tip of the lead and perched it over the paper. “Name?”

  Mazie froze. She couldn’t give him her real name. The cops would find her in no time. “Let’s play a game,” she whispered in Ariel’s ear. She turned to the man. “Charlotte. My name is Charlotte Smyth.”

  Ariel giggled. The man raised his eyebrow at her then printed the name in messy block letters.

  Mazie grinned and watched him write. She pointed to the last name. “No, Smyth, with a y.”

  “Sorry.” He turned the i into a y and eyeballed Ariel. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Do you need her name for the register?”

  “No, no. But a pretty little thing must have a pretty little name, right?”

  Mazie’s eyelids fluttered and she pressed her fingers against a growing pain in her gut.

  “Clementine,” Ariel said, her face alight with the fun of the game.

  “See? A pretty name. My grandmomma’s name was Clementine. Not many folks these days use those nice, old-fashioned names.” He ducked his head down and rummaged beneath the counter top, his face scrunched in concentration. He smiled, his eyes lit. He handed a piece of paper to Ariel. “Here, a coupon for half off breakfast. Which way are you heading?”

  “North,” Mazie said.

  “Perfect. Little place about twenty K up the road. Great coffee, and they’ll fill your to-go cup for free too.”

  The tension in Mazie’s shoulder’s eased. “Thanks. That’s very kind.”

  He handed her a key. “You’re in cabin three. Follow the gravel road behind the office, take a left, then a right after cabin one. There should be a light on over the door so you don’t trip in the dark. Check out is noon, but if you’re a little after that, I don’t mind.”

  “We should be on the road pretty early.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Mazie picked up the receiver of the phone and stared at the dial pad. “Shit.” She turned to Ariel. “What’s Polly’s number?”

  Ariel reeled off the ten digits. “Why don’t you use your cell phone?”

  “It’s broken.”

  “Can I talk to Polly?”

  “We’ll see. It’s pretty late, even in Calgary. Crawl into bed and turn on the television. But keep it down.”

  Mazie poked the numbers on the pad and waited for one, two, three rings.

  “Hello?” A tentative greeting in a near-whisper of a voice.

  “Rachel?”

  “Mazie? Is it
you? Where are you? Are you safe?”

  “Yes, we’re fine.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  “No. I broke my cell phone. What’s going on?”

  “The cops are all over your place. Crime scene tape, body bag in the middle of the night. Sunday. Or I guess that’s Monday morning. Hell, two days ago.”

  Mazie dropped onto a bench beside the table that held the phone and laid her head on her arms.

  “Mazie?”

  “I’m here.”

  “They wanted me to tell them where you are. Some stupid neighbour told them our daughters are best friends.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That you took Ariel to Disneyland.”

  Mazie pressed the fingertips of her free hand against her closed lids. The nosy neighbour, bane of her daily existence, cause of so many issues with Cullen, was protecting her?

  “Look, Mazie. I know what he’s done to you. I say power to you. One day I’d like to hear what you did.” There was rustling and muffled voices as if she had covered the receiver with her hand. “Honey, the cops are heading our way. George went out to meet them to slow them down. I’m going to hang up. Call me in a couple of hours, you hear?”

  Mazie glanced at the bed. Drool dripped from Ariel’s mouth, little snorts of sleep blowing through stray hairs that fell in front of her face.

  “Yes. I’ll call. And thank you. I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just be safe. Tell Ariel we love her.”

  “I will.” She hung up the phone and stared at it, tears stinging her eyes. She focused on the prints her fingers left behind on the grimy receiver. Her heart leapt. She wiped the receiver with the sleeve of her sweater, then wiped the number pad.

  She shook her head and snorted.

  What, was she going to wipe down the entire hotel room too? The restaurant? She’d never been arrested, they didn’t have her prints on file.

  She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Reality took seconds to dawn on her. Her house. The blood. Her fingerprints in his blood. Everywhere. In the bedroom. On the scissors and the knife. On the pictures she left behind. On the notebook.

  Not that it mattered. They knew who killed him. She’d told them in the letter. But they might be able to find her that way. Right? Is that how it worked?

  She ran a bath and soaked in the steaming water for almost an hour, scouring the fold-out maps. Timmins. They’d head to Timmins.

  She crawled into bed next to Ariel and pulled the blankets up high around her neck. She glanced at the clock and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” George’s voice.

  Mazie froze.

  “Is there anyone there?”

  She held her breath, her finger hovered over the disconnect button. “Mazie?” Rachel’s voice, a sound that used to grate on Mazie’s last nerve, had lost its irritating edge.

  “Rachel, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say to him.”

  “It’s fine. Sweetheart, George knows all about it.”

  Mazie sank into the pillows. “What, exactly, does he know?”

  “Honey, nobody wears turtlenecks and long sleeves in August. Not unless they’re hiding something. We hear how he talks to you. And those walls are thinner than you think.” Rachel sighed. “Sweetheart, the whole neighbourhood knows.”

  Mazie squeezed her eyes shut. Cullen’s screaming face came into clear view, his wrists and ankles bound, the headboard slamming against the wall.

  Creak, gasp, thud.

  She opened her eyes and focused on a stain on the bedspread. “So the whole neighbourhood knows the hell I live with,” she said, deadpan. Anger pinched at her chest. “But nobody did or said anything?”

  “I been trying to catch him. Been watching him, you know? But lady, you are so damn guarded. You won’t let anybody in. And that bastard keeps his snotty nose pretty clean in public.”

  Mazie covered her face with one hand, tears sprung to her eyes. “I had no idea. Honestly, Rachel, I just thought you were a nosy neighbour.”

  “Well, shit. I am. But only because I knew what was up. I can’t tell you how many times George wanted to go over there and beat him to a pulp. But that wouldn’t help you.”

  “No, it would have made it worse.”

  “And we didn’t have good reason to call the police. But I am glad Ariel did.”

  Mazie sat up straight. “She told you?”

  “Well the whole neighbourhood saw him get hauled away, saw the ambulance. Ariel just confided in Polly that it was her that called.”

  Mazie sighed. “I took him back.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, Rachel. What have I done?” Her voice cracked and faded into a breathy whine.

  Ariel shifted in her sleep.

  Mazie stroked her head, slipped from beneath the covers, and sat in a chair by the window.

  “You did what you had to do, right? I mean, I’m assuming you killed the bastard, being as how there’s a body bag and all.” Rachel breathed into the phone for a few seconds. “But it was self-defence, right? He would have killed you first, right?”

  “He would have. One day. He kept talking about Ariel. How he wanted to take her to the cabin alone. How she’s pretty like I used to be.”

  Rachel gasped. “No. Oh, Mazie, I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t plan it, Rachel. I was just going to hurt him. Leave him tied to the bed until somebody found him. I was just going to take Ariel and run away.” She peeked at her daughter’s silent form before cupping her hand over her mouth next to the receiver. “It just went terribly wrong. I knew if he ever found us I’d be dead. I just… lost it.” Her heart beat a heavy rhythm. “Oh God, Rachel. I’m a murderer.”

  “You listen to me. You are a wonderful mother. You did what any good one would do to protect her child. You took his shit for years. But there’s a breaking point. Don’t matter what happened, don’t matter that you planned to tie him up or even that you planned to hurt him a bit, give him a taste of his own damn medicine. It was still self-defence.”

  Mazie nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You sound exhausted. Get some sleep. And keep in touch.”

  “I don’t know where we’re going. I’ll try to call when I can.”

  “Go get yourself one of those burner cells.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, like on those cop shows. Prepaid, when it runs out, throw it away and get another.”

  “Rachel. I had no idea you were such a bad-ass.”

  Rachel’s laughter filled the phone. “Why, thank you. Now, don’t you wish you’d talked to me before?”

  Mazie began to cry again. “Lady, you have no idea.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  “Ding-dong, the psycho's gone.”

  Mazie blinked against the sunshine. Ariel sat on the end of the bed, remote in hand, still in her pyjamas. An old episode of Friends played on the television.

  Mazie reached out and poked her daughter’s back with one toe.

  Ariel spun around and glared at her. “Don’t.”

  “Jeez, sorry. What time is it?”

  Ariel pointed the remote at the television and pushed a button. “Almost nine.”

  Mazie fell back into the pillow and covered her eyes with her palms. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to be out of here by seven. I guess I fell asleep before I set the alarm.” Maybe confession truly was good for the soul. She hadn’t slept that well in years. “I’m going to grab a shower. Did you brush your teeth?”

  “Not yet. Can I have a shower too?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Charlotte.”

  Mazie raised one eyebrow. “You’re welcome, Clementine.”

  Ariel giggled. “Can we always use those names?”

  “It is kind of fun.” And it wouldn’t hurt to get used to some new i
dentities.

  Ariel clicked off the television. “Can I call you Charlie?”

  “What about Mom?”

  “Nah. You look like a Charlie.”

  “I like Mom. We’re going to aim for Timmins today. When we get there, want to get some, oh I don’t know…. some makeup?”

  “What? You’ll let me wear makeup?”

  “Just a bit.”

  Ariel bounded to her feet and crushed Mazie in a hug. “I love you, Charlie Smyth.”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Mazie poked at her overcooked egg, tore a piece of soggy bacon in half and held up its limp form. She tossed it on her plate and settled for just coffee. The tepid brew sat on her tongue like warm bathwater. Ariel shoved forkful after forkful of waffles into her mouth.

  She wiped her lips and guzzled half a glass of milk, sat back and stared out the window. “Mom?”

  “What, bug?”

  “Are we ever going home?”

  Mazie swallowed. No matter how many times she’d played out this conversation in her head, tried to prepare for the inevitable, she still had no idea what she was going to say.

  “Not for a while.”

  “Because Daddy hits you?”

  Mazie nodded.

  Ariel dragged her finger across her plate and licked off the dregs of maple syrup. “How long has he been doing that?”

  Mazie’s eyes filled with tears. No point in lying to her now. “Years.” She pulled a napkin from a chrome dispenser and wiped her nose. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, you know. You do everything for him. He’s hardly ever even nice to you.”

  “I didn’t realize you noticed that.”

  “Yeah.” She looked out the window. “Sometimes I’m not very nice to you either.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Polly and George never talk to Rachel like that.” Ariel licked more syrup from her finger and stared out the window. “Why didn’t you leave before?”

  “I thought about it.” Almost every day. Even packed a bag once. Then he brought home flowers and another cheap ring. Or was it earrings? She’d convinced herself he had changed again. But it was another lie piled on top of a mountain of lies. “But I’d never go without you. And I didn’t want to take you away from your friends, from your school.”

  “I’d have come with you.” Ariel wiped a tear from her cheek.