Running Against Traffic

by Gaelen VanDenbergh

  Paige reached for an onion and sliced into it with a large knife. She peeled away the skin and began chopping away at it. Time to add some real flavor, she thought, pretending she was on her own cooking show, talking to an audience. Her eyes stung and tears streamed down her face. What the heck? She thought, wiping her eyes with one hand. She screamed in pain and dropped the knife as she wiped onion juice from her eyes. Her face was hot and standing by the sauce pot had steamed her hair into frizzy strands, hanging in her swollen eyes.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Al asked, strolling into the kitchen.

  Paige squinted at him through onion tears. She grabbed the lid and slammed it down on the sauce pot. “Nothing,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Why do you ask?”

  Al strode to the stove and lifted the lid. He dropped it back down and stepped backward. “What in God’s name is that? Did you kill something?”

  Paige picked up her water glass. “I’m trying to do something nice for you guys,” she said, gesturing and slopping water all over the floor.

  Al rolled up his sleeves. “Okay, I’m here to help. What are we making?” he asked, all business.

  “Fresh pasta, with a homemade marinara primavera kind of sauce.”

  “So that’s what that was? That’s a relief.” He moved to the Ugly Table and stared down in her mixing bowl. “Uh, Paige, don’t you need one of those machines that crank the dough through it to turn it into noodles?”

  Paige brought her water to the table and plunged her hands into the dough in the bowl with authority. She squished it around with her fingers, then realized that her hands were stuck into the bowl. She yanked them free, sending a few dough globs flying. “It’s okay,” she said, staunchly. “We’ll cut it into strips with a knife.”

  Al raised his eyebrows. “You got something to roll it out with?”

  Paige drew a blank. She picked up her glass, feeling her fingers sticking to the glass. She sipped and smacked her lips, buying time. “Such as?” she finally asked.

  “Like a rolling pin?” Al peered into the bowl again. “Never mind, we’re not even gonna get there.”

  “Try getting it out of the bowl and onto the table where we can work with it.”

  Al grimaced, and plunged his hands into the bowl. He squished around for a few minutes and then wrenched his hands free. They were coated in thick gloves of what looked like gray glue. He stood staring at his hands in horror.

  “Oh come on,” Paige said, grabbing a wooden spoon. It stuck to the dough on her hand. She plunged it into the bowl and as she tried to stir the dough, the gray mass stiffened into a cement-like substance. The spoon was lodged tight and could no longer be moved. Paige finally yanked it free and it went flying, along with most of the dough, gray globs splatting against Al and the cabinets behind him.

  This broke Al’s trance, and he blinked. “Dang, look at this stuff,” he said, attempting unsuccessfully to scrape it off of his hands against countertop edges. “This is like some bad horror movie. It’s gonna eat us! We have to get un-sticky.” Before Paige could protest he grabbed the flour bag from the counter and shook flour onto everything, including himself and Paige, until the kitchen was floor to ceiling coated in white powder. Al was head to toe dusted, and Paige was fairly certain she was as well. Flour clouds hung in the air around them.

  Paige gazed around her, then put her gluey hands on her hips. “Well, thanks a lot,” she sputtered through the flour on her lips. “This is just great. Now my shitty kitchen is covered in crap!”

  “Excuse me, Miss Potty-mouth,” Al said. “But I was not the one who woke up this morning thinking I was Rachael Ray. No, no, that was you!” He rummaged around for a dish towel. “I think I miss the old Paige,” he muttered. “She wasn’t such a mess.”

  The front door opened. Bryce sauntered in, and paused at the entrance to the kitchen. He surveyed the scene. “Is this something sexual?”

  Paige showered and changed into cutoff shorts and an old tee shirt. She sat in the back yard in the shade with her journal, flattened by the day and embarrassed by her earlier elation. It was foolish to get excited about anything. It never worked out, no matter how small the attempt. Nothing went as planned, or was what she thought.

  “I’m sensing melodrama going on in that pretty head of yours,” Al said, standing over her. He had washed all of the dough off of his skin, but his hair was still dusted with flour.

  “What’s wrong with me,” Paige said, staring down at her lap. “Everything I try to do goes wrong. Why am I such a mess? I wasn’t a mess when I was with David. What happened to me?”

  “Paige, you’re trying things. That’s a big step forward for you. So what if you’re a mess. Life’s messy.” He settled into the chair beside hers.

  “I never used to be like this,” Paige said. “I never fell apart or lost my edge. I had it together!”

  “Had what together?” Al asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his long legs. “Yeah, you were all together when you were with David, and he dropped your together ass off, way up here, and left going a hundred miles per hour.” He reached for her hand. “Come on, you’re better off actually living and failing than what you were doing before.”

  “I am failing, aren’t I,” Paige said, flatly.

  “Oh, man,” Al groaned. “Okay, failing is the wrong word. You are a high maintenance, pain in the rear, and you know that.”

  Paige smiled. “Not to mention melodramatic cry-baby.”

  “And drama queen. You’re worse than Starfire.” Al laughed and looked up at the sky.

  Paige took a deep, shaky breath. “Why do you put up with me?” she asked.

  Al squeezed her hand. His thumb caressed hers before he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Because we love you.”

  Paige felt light-headed. His eyes held her gaze for a moment too long.

  He dropped her hand. “Now get changed. We’re going for a run,” he said, jumping to his feet.

  “I’m already showered,” Paige stammered, trying to regain her balance as he pulled her by her arms to her feet.

  “You can shower again, Dorothy. I’ll meet you out front in five minutes.”

  Paige pounded hard up the road toward the house. Her legs and lungs burned and sweat drenched her face and shirt. Al was close on her heels, but he was not winning this one, she thought, gleefully.

  In a last ditch effort, Al grabbed at the back of her shirt but she thrust herself forward and only felt his fingertips as she sprinted up the driveway to the front lawn and threw herself down onto the grass. “I win,” she shrieked, rolling onto her back and kicking her feet in the air.

  Al limped up the walkway, gasping for air. “I let you win,” he wheezed. “The things...I…do for…you…” He collapsed onto the grass and lay facedown, inert.

  Bryce pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. He pointed to Al. “Is he dead?”

  Paige giggled. “I don’t know, let’s throw some water on him and see.”

  Al rolled over onto his back. “Don’t you dare,” he warned, still panting.

  Paige stared up at the sky, lit up in shades of orange and gold as evening rolled in. Her stomach rumbled and she pressed her hands against it. “I’m starving,” she complained.

  “I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen,” Bryce said. “And I will take care of dinner.”

  Paige felt her eyebrows shoot skyward. Al stared at him incredulously.

  He held up one finger, then punched a speed dial number on his cell phone.

  “Deirdre, this is Starfire. I’m fine, darling. Listen, Paige thought it would be lovely if you and Carmen joined us for dinner tonight. I know, very impetuous of her. Yes, that would be perfect. Thanks, hon.” He dropped his cell phone back into his pocket. “She’s bringing over a lasagna at six.”

  After the dishes were done and the guests had gone home, Paige sought the evening breezes on the front porch. She looked out, trying to see more tha
n Bryce had seen, looking out of his window into the world.

  Al stepped outside and sat beside her on the steps. She smiled to let him know she was okay.

  “Okay, what’s going on now?” Al asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know who I am.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. “Now that I’m just me, I guess it would help to know something about myself. But I don’t.”

  “You’ll be ready to figure all that out when you get back home,” Al said.

  Paige forced herself to stare out at the road, but she could feel Al’s gaze on her for an eternity.

  “I can tell you something about Paige,” Al finally said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “You were dumped here a year ago, falling apart, all alone, and yet you took in two people who you didn’t even know, but who needed a place to live, and you made your home their home. You took care of them when you needed to be taken care of. What kind of person does that?”

  Paige shrugged again, trying not to smile.

  “A dumbass, that’s who,” Al said. “What were you thinking?”

  Paige nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Now pack your bags and get out, and take Starfire with you.”

  Al stood and crossed his arms. “I always knew you were just using me for my tools.”

  “I never did get to use the most important one,” she said, batting her lashes at him.

  A wide smile flashed across his face. “Dirty girl.”

  Paige jumped awake at the sound of the house phone ringing and ringing. She looked at her bedside clock and saw that it was two thirty in the morning. For the love of all that’s holy, she thought, relaxing finally when the ringing ceased. Moments later, it began to ring again. She could hear muffled swearing from the boys’ rooms and someone’s door open. When the phone rang a third time, she threw on shorts and tee shirt and met them the hallway. Bryce was visibly agitated. “I’ll go,” he said, as it began ringing again.

  Al looked at Paige questioningly, then turned to follow him down the steps. Paige rubbed her eyes and followed a moment later. She could hear Bryce talking to someone in low tones. Then his voice became louder.

  “No. NO. I’m not coming over. Tina, you know what time it is? I’ll call you in the morning. No, I said no!”

  Paige felt her hands begin to tremble as she watched Bryce standing by the kitchen door, his shoulders hunched. His back was to her. She looked around for Al and saw that he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He looked up at Paige and shook his head.

  “Tina,” Bryce pleaded, his voice hoarse. “Tina, I’m not coming over this time. God, can’t you form a complete sentence? What have you been doing? For how many days? Shit! Tina. Mom. I’m sending an ambulance over there. I’ll meet you at the hospital. Don’t go anywhere. Let them in when they come, and go to the hospital if you want to see me.” He clicked off and threw the phone against the wall. The crash made Paige flinch and the phone fell to the floor in pieces.

  Bryce dug his hands into his hair and stood quiet for a few moments, his eyes wide and fixed on the floor. He turned and looked from Paige to Al, and back. “I uh…I have to get to the hospital.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Al said, jumping to his feet.

  “Yeah, that works.” Bryce caught Paige by the hand as he walked past her. He didn’t let go, and she let him pull her with him through the front door.

  Al shifted in the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. “Maybe we should go in there,” he said.

  Paige shrugged. She had no idea what to do. They had arrived later than the ambulance, and a nurse had led Bryce away to a room where they had his mother. Two hours later and he hadn’t returned. “Do you even know what room they’re in?” she asked.

  “No, but I think we need to go find them,” Al said. “I don’t like him being alone right now.”

  “Wait a few more minutes,” Paige said.

  Twenty minutes later, Bryce appeared around the corner, and beckoned to them. They struggled to their feet and stumbled after him to one of the rooms. He pushed through the door that stood ajar and flopped down in the chair by the bed. Paige felt her throat closing and tears suddenly slide from her eyes down her cheeks at the sight of the wretched soul lying in the bed, unconscious. She was too young, not much older than Paige.

  “She had me when she was fifteen,” Bryce said, reading her thoughts. His voice was monotone. “This is Christina. Christina, this is Paige.” He rubbed his eyes and dropped his hands. “She’s in a coma. You guys can go home, I’m going to stay with her tonight.”

  Al sighed heavily. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  Paige wiped her tears away and stared at the wisp of a woman in the bed. She was so much smaller than Paige had thought she would be – if she had ever in fact pictured her in her mind. Small, and frail. Paige had expected someone horse like, strong, capable if only through the arrogance of size of tossing around hurt and neglect at someone who should be held dearest to her.

  Course blond curls, like her son’s, splayed against the sterile white pillow. She doesn’t look like a dying woman, Paige thought, miserably. She doesn’t look like she just came off a drug bender that probably lasted for days, ravaging what little she had left. Her skin was colorless, and her arms that lay above the sheet were twigs of bone covered by translucent skin that matched her face. Her eyes were closed, and Paige imagined they were the same dark blue as her son’s eyes. Dark lashes rested against her cheeks. What happened to you? Paige thought, fury and fear building inside her. Wake up! Come back and try again! Wake up! She had to try again, she could start over. She could get well, and be different. Come back, Christina, come back and do right by your child. You can’t be done. Come back, she screamed inwardly, over and over.

  “She’s pretty,” Paige said, her voice shaking.

  Bryce nodded. “Yeah, well, I washed her hair and closed her mouth. She’s missing some teeth.”

  Paige felt Al’s hand on her elbow and he turned her around to steer her out of the room. Paige turned to go with him, the thirteen year old child being taken away from her father’s funeral by her aunt and uncle, bitterness stiffening her skin like drying clay.

  Paige woke to the sound of the front door opening and she leapt out of bed and stumbled down the stairs. Al closed the door behind Bryce. “He needs to go to bed,” Al said, his hand resting on Bryce’s shoulder.

  “Did she die?” Paige blurted out.

  Bryce nodded. His eyes were shot with red streaks. “I talked to her before she went into the coma, though. She was so sad, I’ve never seen her like that. I think she knew this was it. I forgave her. She asked me for a cigarette. Then she went away.” His voice cracked.

  “What did you say?” Paige felt her heart squeezing tight in her chest. She wanted to throw herself onto him and protect him from the pain that was radiating from his body.

  “She needed to go peacefully,” Bryce said. He looked at Al when he said this, as if he was searching for understanding. “She needed me to do that. I had to.” His tired eyes were wet.

  “You’re amazing,” Al said, quietly. He patted Bryce on the back and then stepped back. “I don’t know how you were able to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Well, I owed her. She left me with something pretty important.”

  “What?” Paige asked.

  “Fear for my life.”

  Me too, Paige thought.

  Paige got out of her bed and crept to Bryce’s door. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. Carefully, softly, she walked to his bed sat by him on the floor. She hugged her knees, watching his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, listening to his deep, steady breathing. She breathed with him, studying him as he was at peace. She wondered how long he had sat with Christina, and if he sat like this, studying her, if he held her hand as she died, if he looked at the clock or the wall or a
t her hair, if he felt like her son. If he had called her Mom when he said good-bye.

  In the stillness of the room, Paige drew deep breaths, beginning to understand Bryce’s need to forgive Christina. In the dark of her mind, and the breath between them, Paige forgave her, too. Then she forgave her own parents. She closed her eyes and forgave them again. And again. The third time she was fairly sure she meant it.

  Then, since there was so much forgiveness going around, she decided to forgive herself.

  She tiptoed out of the room and crawled into Al’s warm bed. In his sleep he threw one arm over her and pulled her body into his.

  Paige fell into a deep sleep. Her dreams became harshly vivid. Jeremy came to her. He was pale and he reached for her and drew her to him. Her arms remained at their sides as he embraced her and stroked her back, whispering into her hair that he was sorry for the way things ended. She pushed him away and stepped back. She demanded to know why he had sent her back to David the way that he had, why he had disappeared so abruptly, after making her love him. He looked forlorn. He said that they moved away to Connecticut. That was his only explanation, and she didn’t need more. She told him he needed to go away, and never come back. She ordered him to disappear the way one banishes a ghost. He turned away from her and disappeared. The next day, he died.

  Paige woke to angry tears filling her eyes, as she realized that she was awake and couldn’t go back into the dream and make amends. She knew it was an irrational thought, as it had only been a dream, but she felt the haunting of the unfinished business deep within. She rolled over and let the pillow soak up her tears. She couldn’t let another opportunity to make her peace go by, even if it meant banishing her pride.

  Chapter 24

  Paige dropped a second handful of ice into a pitcher of lemonade, listening to it crack and pop, watching it disappear into water as she stirred it with a wooden spoon in the heat of her stuffy kitchen. It was too hot for a meeting, she silently lamented, fishing into her pocket for a hair band. Her hair had grown too long, and was heavy on her back and sticking to her neck. She pulled it up and back into a high pony tail, and wiped the back of her neck with a dish towel.