Flee, Fly, Flown Page 11

  “Are we moving?” I ask.

  Albert’s edgy, a little impatient now. “We’re in the car, and the car is moving. Is that what you’re asking?”

  “No, and don’t patronize me. Are we moving to a new house?”

  “Lillian, when this started, you said it was a vacation. I’m not sure what you want to call it now. Do you want to keep going or go back?”

  “Fraise, what do you think? You are coming to stay with us, right? I think we should let Fraise decide where we should live, don’t you, Albert?”

  Silence.

  “Jeez Louise! Why won’t anyone answer me?”

  I scratch behind the dog’s ears, rubbing a bit too close to a scrape on her face and causing her to flinch. I look more closely and see that the dog has a dressing wrapped around her leg. “What’s wrong, Puppy?” I say as I gently rub my finger under her chin, then scoop a few pebbles of dog food from the bowl on the floor and offer them to her.

  “Blondie’s hurt,” I say. “Her leg is bandaged, and she has cuts all over her.”

  Again no one answers. It’s like there is a soundproof wall between the front and back seat. This invisible quiet-wall will come in handy next time I’m driving with Tom and Carol arguing in the back.

  “Well, Girl,” I say to the dog, “Looks like we’re on our own.” I sing the chorus of “How Much is That Doggy in the Window.” She sleeps in her blanket-nest. “You rest, little Blondie. You’ve got some healing to do.”

  The road is getting busier. Signs say that Highway 11 has merged with Highway 17. Huge trucks pass, carrying enormous tree trunks stacked like oranges in a supermarket. There are more cars too and more exits that lead to places called Red Rock, Hurkett, Dorian, and Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. Reading the road signs and paying attention to details like this makes me feel calmer. There is a sign that tells of a memorial dedicated to Terry Fox and we can see his larger-than-life statue just off to the side.

  “He was so strong, running all that way with one leg,” Audrey says.

  “Who was he?” I ask.

  “Don’t you remember Terry Fox? I remember when he ran through Ottawa and everyone went out to see him. He was a hero. I watched him shake hands with Trudeau,” Audrey says.

  I wonder who Trudeau was and why he was shaking hands with this statue.

  We turn at an exit and stop at a large grocery store. No one pays any attention to us as we move up and down the aisles.

  “Let’s get a Styrofoam cooler and some ice, so we can buy more food and not have to keep stopping,” Rayne says.

  We wander through the store, tossing things into the cart: cold cuts, cheese, juice, buns, bananas, pears, and a package of cookies. At the cash register, I leaf through the money in my wallet and count it out into the cashier’s palm. I stop just short of the thirty-five dollars showing on the screen.

  “That’s all I have. Do you have money?” I ask Audrey.

  “I don’t know where my purse is,” she says, looking around.

  Rayne pulls some small bills from his pocket and pays the rest.

  “Damn!” he says as we return to the car. “We’re gonna need more cash. The problem is they can track you if you use your credit or debit card. We’re short on gas too.”

  “Who can track us?” I ask.

  “The bank, your family, the nursing home.”

  “You mean they’ll know where we are because we take money out of the bank this far away?” I say.

  “Yeah. Everything’s electronic.”

  “Even the credit cards? Would they know right away if we used the credit card too?” I can picture the bank teller pouring over bank entries, noting every transaction that every customer makes across the country.

  “They might have flagged your accounts to notify them if any action takes place,” Rayne explains.

  “This is much more complicated than I thought,” Audrey says. “It’s hard to run away from home.”

  Rayne pulls up in front of an automated bank machine nearby. “We can’t go any farther without gas. We’re gonna have to take a chance. Do either of you have a credit card?”

  Audrey shakes her head. “Did I leave my purse somewhere?”

  I find a bankcard in my wallet that Rayne says will probably work. With Rayne’s help, I insert it into the slot. The screen lights up and asks for the PIN number. I turn to Rayne and shrug.

  “Try this,” he says, reaching across and touching the keys 1-2-3-4. The screen goes black and then, Incorrect PIN. Cancel or retry.

  “What about the last four digits of your phone number?”

  “1455. I’m sure that was our number at home, wasn’t it, Fraise?” I say.

  He punches that into the keypad. Incorrect PIN. Cancel or retry.

  This is kind of fun, like a guessing game. “What about my birthday? Try that.”

  “When’s your birthday?” Rayne asks.

  “February 26.”

  He touches the keys 0-2-2-6. The screen changes and asks what action I want to take. Rayne quickly presses the withdraw option. “How much can we get?” he asks. “Is a thousand too much?”

  “Go ahead and try it,” I say. “I guess we’ll see.”

  The machine whirs and beeps, and a wad of bills appears in a tray at the bottom.

  “Well, look at that!” Audrey can barely get the words out. “That’s unbelievable. Who knew you could get one thousand dollars just by putting your card in a machine and pushing the right numbers?” She laughs. “One thousand dollars. We’re set.”

  Rayne hands the money to me but keeps some. “I’ll need this for gas,” he says.

  “Good job. What a team,” I say. “That was easy enough, eh?”

  We drive away in search of a gas station. Rayne’s voice is heavy. “It was simple enough, but I have a feeling it’s gonna cause problems for us in the very near future.”

  Rayne fills the tank, and we head west, accelerating onto the highway past several more exits that lead into Thunder Bay. Just outside the city, he veers onto a side road.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he says.

  11

  “What is it, Dear?” Audrey asks.

  “I’ve been wired up about this stolen car situation and expecting to get pulled over any minute by the police. We’ve been gone three days now. We’re pushing our luck, but I have an idea.”

  Rayne is bouncy, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, more childlike than I’ve seen him before. He’s talking so quickly, I’m having trouble understanding. “We need to clean up the Intrigue, so there’s no trace of us anywhere inside or outside, and leave it somewhere safe, like outside a police station. Then we need to rent a car. No one has connected the two of you with me, so I could go alone to the rental place, use cash, then pick you up, and we can drive the rest of the way in the rental. As long as we clean the Intrigue up really well before deserting it, it shouldn’t lead anyone to think you’re the ones who took it.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Audrey says. “If they find the car in Thunder Bay, won’t they know we’re here?”

  “Not as long as there’s nothing in it to connect you. Anyone could have stolen it and left it here. I’ll take it to a carwash, scrub it, and then vacuum inside.”

  The surface changes to gravel a short distance off the highway. We creep slowly along. Rayne looks left and right, searching for something, I’m not sure what. He spots a lane that leads into the trees.

  The wheels turn silently as they roll along a dirt path that opens up to a frame house with broken windows. The paint is so faded it’s impossible to tell what color it was. Rayne turns off the engine and jumps from the car. He disappears behind the house and a few minutes later, reappears on the opposite side. He saunters over and opens the car door. His face is beaming.

>   “No one around. Perfect.” He leans in closer. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll unload everything onto the porch. You stay here with Shadow. I’ll drive into the city, go to a carwash, and then park the Intrigue on the street across from a police station. I’ll find a car rental place and come back here to pick you up.”

  He looks so happy with himself. “What do you think of my plan?”

  My heart is beating faster. “Delicious!” I say. “Can I come with you?”

  “I need you to stay here with Audrey and Shadow and all our stuff,” Rayne says. “I will need some money, though, for the carwash and the rental.”

  “Do we have to get rid of my car?” Audrey asks.

  “If things work out the way I hope, it’ll be returned safely to the boy you borrowed it from, and we’ll be able to go the rest of the way without being charged with theft—a good deal if you ask me,” Rayne says.

  I slide out of the car, followed by Shadow who slinks gingerly down from the seat with a squeal.

  “Can you put the leash on her?” Rayne says, handing it to me. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

  I hook the leash onto Shadow’s collar and Rayne ties it securely to a rung on the porch railing. Audrey leans on her cane and drags her bag to the porch. Rayne does most of the lifting and carrying: the guitar, backpacks, dog food, his big sleeping bag, the blanket, and the cooler filled with food.

  “We should have lunch before you go,” Audrey says. “We haven’t eaten yet today.”

  “What about breakfast with your friend Sam, the world’s worst waiter?” Rayne teases.

  He takes a sandwich and banana and waves good-bye. “When you see me next time, I’ll be driving a minivan or whatever goes for the cheapest rate and still has room for three people, a dog and luggage. Audrey—Lillian—whatever happens, do not leave this place.” He waits for us to acknowledge this and then drives away.

  The Intrigue disappears at the end of the lane, swallowed up by a cloud of dust. We listen from the front porch as the crunch of gravel under the tires grows quiet and the sounds of isolation engulf us. Crickets and frogs chirp, and birds call to each other in the trees. It feels like there isn’t another person for miles in any direction.

  “This sandwich is heavenly,” Audrey says.

  I fill a bowl with water from the jug and another with kibble and place them where Shadow can reach. She laps up the water with great enthusiasm.

  Audrey and I scan the property from our perch on the front steps. The yard isn’t really a lawn but more of a meadow, any manicured portions long-since choked out by wildflowers and weeds. Sumac trees grow close to the house, brushing against the wooden clapboard siding and sprouting up randomly between dandelions, chicory, and rocks.

  The porch is wooden, gray with age but solid. I reach back to the pile of things that Rayne has stashed there from the car, pull the sleeping bag over and spread it out, then slowly, carefully, lie flat on my back.

  Audrey lies down beside me, inhaling sharply as she rolls onto her bruised hip, then she sighs. “Aaaah, that feels great.”

  “You said it.”

  The sun warms like a wonderful massage. It’s so peaceful here. I waver between sleep and wakefulness until the sound of a car speeding along the road draws me back. We each try to sit up, squirm around like sea lions and finally, raise our heads in time to see a flash of red fly right on by the lane, followed by the billowing gray-white puff that settles along the roadside.

  “Rayne is coming back, right?” I ask.

  “He’ll be back, don’t worry,” Audrey says.

  Rayne has left us here. He’s gone on without us. He has our car and he knows how to get money from my bank.

  This time, I manage to push and pull myself to a seated position and help Audrey do the same. “Oh, my God!”

  I say. “We are such trusting old birds. We’re in the middle of nowhere—we don’t even know where—and we have no way to get back.”

  “What are you talking about?” Audrey says. “Rayne is coming back for us.”

  “No, he isn’t. He just took off without us, and we let him go. When did we turn so stupid? I knew this was a bad idea, letting him come along in the first place.”

  “Settle down, my friend. He is coming back.”

  “Oh, really? You can predict the future now?”

  “Why would he drive away and leave us here?”

  I frantically try to plan how we will survive. “He left the food and the bags at least. That shows he isn’t planning to come back for us. He left the sleeping bag and blanket.”

  “He left the dog too. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t coming back. He loves that dog,” Audrey says.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He left the dog so she would protect us until he got back, I bet,” Audrey says.

  “We need to make a plan,” I say, standing with the help of the railing.

  “He’s adorable,” Audrey says.

  “Who? The dog?”

  “No. Rayne. I like him.”

  “Oh, he’s a prince all right. We’ll see how much you like him when he doesn’t come back.”

  “I wish he was my son. I always wanted a son, and he’d be perfect.”

  “He’s yours then,” I say.

  “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

  I cross the porch to look in the window, one of the only ones left intact. The room is empty, the wooden floor is stained from weather that found its way inside. Yellowed wallpaper clings to the walls and drapes loosely from the corners—melting.

  “I suppose we could fix this place up and live here,” I say. “You and me and our dog. It could be beautiful with a little love and elbow grease.”

  “Help me up this step so I can see,” Audrey says, holding her cane in one hand and reaching for me with the other.

  I test the railing’s strength, then hold on tightly. We teeter together until Audrey tips forward and releases her grasp. She manages to balance herself. Her hand lands flat on the porch floor.

  I spin around and grab the railing with both hands, saving myself from going down.

  My arms are shaky. “Whew. That was close!” I say. “We’re gonna need to have a ramp put in there instead of the step. And a good, sturdy handrail.”

  Audrey is on her butt, winded and laughing. “Or a trampoline.”

  “We could have a big garden to grow all our own food,” I say.

  Audrey clasps her hands together and looks out through the trees. “I could make all the curtains and start my own dressmaking business and popcorn stand.”

  “I love popcorn,” I say, “with lots of butter and Scotch. Do you really think Rayne is coming back?”

  “Oh, he’ll be back,” Audrey says. “What about Terry though?”

  I try to remember who Terry is.

  “He’s not coming back. He died. I forget sometimes, but I know. He died.”

  I bow my head, “God rest his soul. Terry and Albert, gone to a better place.”

  “Do you like emerald?” Audrey asks, “Because I could make emerald curtains. I always loved emerald. It sounds like Ireland and jewelry and candy.”

  “I like azure. Wait, I think it’s azule. In all the romantic books and movies the sea and sky are always azure, or azule,” I say. “Could I have blue curtains in my bedroom?”

  Blue curtains. I had blue-green curtains in that place we left behind. They were heavy and suffocating. I can feel the weight of them closing around me as I stand on the porch.

  “I want yellow curtains,” I say. “I want yellow curtains, and I don’t care if your son comes back to get us. I’m going to stay here anyway. If you want to go with him, just go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

  “He is coming back, and we can all live here. There’s room
for him too. I’ll give him the blue curtains,” Audrey says.

  “Do you like the uniforms?” I ask.

  “Sure, they’re pretty nice. I like that little one with the ponytail. She always gives me hugs and calls me Cutie. You know the one?”

  “No. They call us Cutie and Hon because they don’t know our names. That’s why. Just like that dunderhead my mom married. Called me Kiddo all the time because he couldn’t bother to sort out which one of us was which. ‘Hey, Kiddo. Put some ice and a couple ounces of whiskey in this glass for me, will you?’ Do it yourself, Asshole. That’s what I should have said, but Mom would have tanned my hide.”

  “You really think they don’t know our names?” Audrey asks.

  “Mm-hmm, and I think they’re trying to get rid of us. They give us all those pills—a hundred a day. What are they for, do you ever wonder that? We’re not taking any now, and we haven’t gone crazy yet. You have to ask yourself what those pills really do.”

  “I never thought of that,” Audrey says. “I’m not going to take mine anymore. When we get back, I’m gonna hide them in my shoe and then throw them down the toilet.”

  We sit on the steps and wait. “Do you know my mom’s second husband, Stuart?” I ask.

  “No,” Audrey says. “I don’t like him though. He sounds like a nasty man. Why is your mom married to him?”

  “I don’t know. He never even pretended to like us kids from the start. We all begged Mom not to marry him. She said he would look after us. Provide for us. I was thirteen, and the war was just coming to an end. It must have been…1945. I knew we didn’t have much. We wore hand-me-downs and ate bread pudding a lot. I remember Mom waiting for the new Family Allowance money to come every month. Still, I couldn’t believe she would marry that man. I practically turned myself inside out; cried for days and nights when Mom told us. I threw my framed picture of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman at her. The glass broke and cut her arm.

  I didn’t even feel bad, except I really liked that picture.”

  “You should live with me,” Audrey says.