Flee, Fly, Flown Read online

  I look out into the parking lot and instantly recognize a blue Intrigue, though again, I’m not sure why. A young man strolls in from the road and approaches the car. He opens the door and lies down in the back seat. Now, from where

  I stand, the car looks empty.

  I return to the edge of the bed. “Do we have a car?”

  “I believe we do,” Audrey says.

  “I think there’s a man lying down in the back seat.”

  “That’s Rayne, our driver.” The answer seems to surprise her as much as it does me.

  Rayne. I repeat the name over and over in my head. I’m in the midst of a mystery, trying to solve the case.

  “We’re on vacation, heading west.” Audrey smiles, obviously pleased with herself. She turns on the television. A man and woman with very serious expressions pose behind a desk, but there are no words. Audrey examines the switcher-thing but can’t figure out how to choose sound over silence or how to change the station, so she hands it to me. The only button that makes sense is the red one that turns it on and off. I don’t want to touch the others with the arrows and signs, so I lean back on my pillow, resigned to watching it as it is.

  Soon Audrey is sleeping, and I sit watching silent heads bob and turn.

  As the room brightens and the stirring sounds of others filter through the walls and into her sleep, Audrey wakes again. We move around in silence—washing, dressing, attempting to follow our morning routines. My hips snap and crack, yield slowly, mechanically.

  There’s a knock on the door, and a man edges into our room.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Excuse me! Did someone invite you in?” I ask.

  He ignores me. “I’ll load up the car and we’ll stop in town for breakfast before we hit the road. Mabel’s okay?”

  “Hit the road? What are you talking about and…who are you?” I ask. This guy has a lot of nerve!

  Audrey looks at me with a blank expression, no answers hidden there.

  “Are you serious?” The guy looks more closely at me. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” He stands in the doorway, staring at us for a moment, then turns and leaves the room.

  My head starts to buzz. It sounds like a cicada, rising and falling, loud enough to keep me from thinking clearly. Everything is so new. I have an odd sense that this is good, and yet the muscles in the back of my neck and shoulders are tense and sore. I try to calm myself and concentrate. This man knows us, but we don’t know him.

  “Where did he go?” Audrey asks. She walks to the window, then answers her own question. “He’s leaning on my car, smoking.”

  She leaves the room and I follow, not knowing what else to do. All around him there’s the sweet scent of marijuana, like a memory siphoned from somewhere deep in the past; from the days we had a rebellious son living in the basement.

  The smoke curls up from his lips. He inhales again and waits. “What is wrong with you two?” he asks after holding his breath and, finally, exhaling. “I want the truth.”

  I look at the ground, still unsure of who he is or how much to trust him. “We’re forgetful, that’s all. We need to be reminded about things sometimes—where we are and who you are—things like that. You’re going to be like us soon enough if you keep smoking that stuff, you know. It’s not good for you.”

  “Is that right? Is that how you got this way?” he says.

  “Don’t be a smart ass. We’re much older than you and we had better things to do with our time at your age than waste it with that silly weed. Responsible things like jobs and family. Now, tell us—who are you, and what are your intentions?”

  “Rayne, I’m Rayne. We met yesterday and you asked me to drive you out west.”

  Unlikely but interesting. Tidbits start to flash back.

  “That’s my car,” Audrey says. “You can drive it if you like. That’s what we’re using to go on our vacation.”

  “So, just like that it’s all good now?” Rayne asks. “I’m not gonna stop smoking, so if that’s an issue for you, we can say good-bye right now.”

  He looks at me with a challenge I recognize. It’s not a fight I feel up to having just now.

  “We’ll see,” I tell him. “Maybe I’ll be smoking too, before this is over. Who knows?”

  I try to ease into the idea of trusting this boy for the time being. He’s cocky, but there’s something familiar about him.

  “I know I’m gonna fuckin’ regret this,” he says, “but let’s try it for another day and see how it goes.”

  Audrey opens the car door. “Let’s eat breakfast. I’m starving.”

  Rayne drives into town and parks in front of Mabel’s.

  As we enter, Audrey’s face lights up. “I recognize this place!”

  We sit near the window. A young man approaches and pours coffee. “Good morning. I’ll leave these menus and be right back to take your order.”

  “Excuse me,” Rayne says as the boy turns to leave,

  “Is Rachel here this morning?”

  “Nope. She doesn’t work today.”

  “Who’s Rachel?” I ask.

  Rayne blushes. “We met her last night when we were here for supper. She was our waitress, remember?”

  The boy returns and glares at Rayne. “I thought I recognized you when you came in. Good thing my sister wasn’t scheduled for the morning shift. She was just stumbling in the door when I was leaving the house for work. But then, you know that.”

  Rayne takes a keen interest in the menu, avoiding eye contact with the waiter. “I’ll have two eggs over easy, bacon, and toast, please—and a large milk.”

  “You’re lucky it’s me serving you and not my mom or dad. If they knew Rache was out all night with you, that hot coffee wouldn’t have made it to the cup.”

  I wonder what they’re talking about but decide to let it go.

  We’re comfortably settled in the Intrigue, heading west along the Trans Canada Highway. Trees and rocky terrain fly by, and I try to imagine what lies ahead. I’ve never been farther west than Steinbach, Manitoba. I have vivid memories of taking the train to visit a friend who had moved out there to work the summer after my first year of teaching. That was before I married Albert. My friend, Martha, was living there on her own and had fallen in with some rowdy friends who loved to party and didn’t think much of working. My mom had agreed to let me go because she said that Steinbach was a “dry region”—no alcohol. She sure was wrong. My first time so far away from home with no one to answer to was full of temptation. I got drunk and flirted with boys, and I even kissed one and let him fondle my boobs, though I never told Albert. That boy asked Martha for my address and kept writing to me, asking me to come back and saying he loved me! I’ll never forget the thrill of acting so irresponsibly.

  In fact, I’m feeling a little like that now—naughty, unchecked. This time though, I’ve taken an innocent bystander along with me. Audrey is naïve. She trusts me and follows me without question.

  I’m glad now that Rayne has joined us. I don’t think

  I could have found the way. We’ve passed through a couple of small towns and are just entering North Bay where, according to the road signs, the Trans Canada Highway splits, one branch following Highway 17 toward Sudbury and the other turning northward along Highway 11. Rayne turns north. He seems to know by instinct which way to go. Albert is like that too. It must be something in the male chromosome. I’m pitiful where direction is concerned.

  I try to visualize the place we left in Ottawa and draw a blank. I concentrate more deeply. Still nothing. My childhood home is there in full detail, the bedroom I shared with my sisters, Sharon and Susan. Are they gone now? Passed away? How can

  I not remember this? And the larger bedroom beside it with two sets of bunk beds for my four brothers, all gone but one—John. I think he
’s still alive. He visited me recently. Yes, I’m sure of it.

  My brothers always fought over the top bunks like snarly dogs fight over an old bone, just to say they won the battle.

  Rayne switches on the radio, pushing button after button to find a station with something other than gardening shows for the northern temperate zone. Eventually he gives up and turns it off.

  “We should sing,” Audrey says. “You’re a musician. Start us off on a song and we’ll join in.”

  “Great idea,” I say.

  Rayne shakes his head. “No. Definitely not.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun,” Audrey says.

  “No.”

  “I bet you know some old songs: “You Are My Sunshine,” “A Bicycle Built For Two,” “Sunny Side of the Street”? Didn’t you sing with your parents or your grandma in the car?”

  “No. We had radios that worked and I had an MP3 player,” Rayne says in a snarly tone.

  Audrey starts to sing and I join in. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.”

  Rayne inserts his white earplugs and tries to ignore us.

  “I’m getting angry,” Audrey says. “Anyone else?”

  “Why are you angry?” I ask.

  “What do you mean? Oh jeez, not angry—I need to eat. My stomach is growling.”

  “Hungry?” Rayne asks. He’s removed his earplugs and caught the end of the conversation.

  Outside of town, several restaurants line both sides of the highway. We agree on pizza. Audrey has trouble getting out of the car. Her hips and knees are seizing up.

  “I’ll be fine,” she says. “I may move a bit slower, but we’ll call it my vacation pace.” She laughs at her own joke.

  The pizza is delicious. “We don’t get this at Tranquil Meadows,” I say, taking another bite.

  Rayne eyes me with curiosity. “What’s Tranquil Meadows?”

  “That’s the house where Audrey and I stay. They make our meals there.”

  “A house. You mean like a retirement lodge?” Rayne asks.

  “Yeah, like that.”

  Back in the car, I find myself fussing with the zippers and straps on the pack beside me. I’d come close to letting our secret slip. I can’t be sure Rayne will keep driving west if he knows. He might call the nursing home. The nurses will say we have to go back, I’m sure of that. We need to get farther away. I lean forward and tap him on the shoulder. “You should drive faster.”

  “I’m going fifteen over the limit,” he says.

  I envision being stopped by the police. “You should slow down.”

  “I’m just going with the flow of traffic,” he says, his voice sounding a little edgy.

  “That’s good. Going with the flow is good.”

  Rayne glances in the mirror. “Are you sure?”

  I can’t believe it. I didn’t see it coming, but I’m sobbing. “No, I’m not sure of anything….Damn!”

  Rayne focuses on the road and drives on in silence. Audrey reaches around and pats my knee.

  Outside, the scenery looks like it will swallow us up in all its untouched space. Green sprouts from rock like the crabgrass that Albert fights in the driveway cracks at home. Houses grow fewer and farther apart, and small lakes and rivers flash silver through the trees.

  “I feel like the lake is whispering to us, calling us,” Audrey says. “Could we get out and walk in the woods?”

  “Yes,” I say, “that’s why we’re here. We should explore.” The surroundings are relaxing me. “I’m glad I brought my running shoes. I knew they’d come in handy.”

  “You aren’t really gonna do this, are you?” Rayne says. “We’ll just stop the car and look at the woods through the open window.”

  “You’re forgetting that your job is to drive. We make the decisions,” I say. “You should come walking with us in case we need you to kill a bear or something.”

  “Very funny. If there’s bear in there, you’re on your own.” Rayne pulls into a rest area at the side of the road and stops the car beside a picnic table.

  “Too bad we didn’t bring a picnic lunch,” Audrey says.

  “We already had lunch. Didn’t we?”

  “What did we have?”

  “I made us grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  Rayne listens, raises his eyebrows. “We had pizza,” he says. He gets out of the car and steps back. “Resourceful,” he says, pointing at my shoes and smiling for the first time today. “You’ll have to lead the way. My sandals won’t be good for carving a path.”

  “I’ll go first,” Audrey offers, “and beat a path with my cane. It’ll be useful in case we meet up with a snake.”

  “How deep are you planning to go?” Rayne asks. “I might wait in the car.”

  He reaches out to hand the keys to me.

  I shake my head. “You hold on to them.”

  I lead the way into the trees along a wide walking path. The earth is hard and dry. The scents are heady, changing from toasty, baked dirt to the freshness of leaves and plants and fallen trees. Much of the land along the path is rocky—smooth and gray like a sculpture.

  “Listen to the birds,” Audrey says. She adjusts her hearing aid.

  The trail narrows as we plod deeper into the woods. Out front, I tramp along in my running shoes, each step deliberate and steady. I can hear Audrey behind me, cane testing as she walks, trying to keep up. Rayne is last. Eventually, we can no longer hear the noise of traffic on the road. The snap of branches and the choir of birds are the only sounds. I’m a young mom and this is a Sunday afternoon outing with the kids.

  A voice comes from behind, “That’s far enough, don’t you think? We should get back to the car.”

  I stop and look up. “Where’s Carol…and Tom?” I ask. My pulse races. “Albert, where are the kids? I thought you were watching them!”

  The woman behind me tries to take my hand. “It’s okay, Hon. They’re safe. They stayed at home.”

  “At home? They were with us.”

  “No, they’re safely back at home.” She holds my hand more tightly. “Walk with me back to the car. I’m getting pretty tired.”

  My palms grow sweaty, and I wrench my hand from hers. “Carol!” I shout. “Carol! Tom!”

  The air is hot and still. “Tom,” I call out as loudly as I can. “We’re leaving!” My voice is raspy and weak as I try to make them hear. I walk farther into the trees, hoping to catch sight of the children. Why does this keep happening? What kind of mother am I, losing my children? My head is heavy and thick. The cicadas have returned. I slump to the ground and cry, still shouting their names between sobs.

  Carol and Tom do not return. Finally, I let the people on either side guide me back out to the open space. I try to listen to what they’re saying, but the words don’t make sense.

  The man opens the car doors. I refuse to get in.

  “We can’t leave them here! We have to find them.”

  The woman backs up to the open door and drops down onto the seat.

  The man stands beside me, eyes wide. “They’re not in there,” he says. “We went in alone, just the three of us.”

  I try to wrestle past him. “Let me go. I have to find my children.”

  He puts a hand on each of my shoulders and won’t let me past. “No, we have to leave. There are no children in there.”

  I glare at him, then turn and crawl into the back seat. He reaches in to help me with the seatbelt, but I push him away. He closes the door. I sit there, unable to move. By the time we pull out onto the highway I’m numb.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the man asks.

  The woman answers something, and he nods in recognition. “Shit. I should have known.” He looks over and catches her eye.
“You too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Man, that sucks.”

  My head is stuffed with cotton balls and clay. I listen to the voices from the front seat with my eyes closed.

  The man is telling a story. “My grandma had Alzheimer’s. I didn’t know. She was always a little out there—you know—different, but all my life she stood up for me and encouraged me to do what I wanted. ‘Follow the music’ she used to say.” He breathes deeply. “Before I left home, I noticed she was getting moody and forgetful, but I just thought it was normal; she was pretty old. When I told her I was moving east, she started yelling at me. ‘I’ve looked after you all your life, and now that I need you around, you desert me! What am I supposed to do?’ She freaked. I guess I was pretty self-absorbed.

  I should have seen the changes, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Anyway, she died two years ago. She was eighty. I went back for her funeral, and from the stories I heard, it sounded like she got a lot worse toward the end. It’s brutal.”

  Is he talking about me? I open my eyes.

  The woman in the front seat has fallen asleep.

  The man speeds up, weaving past cars and trucks as if he’s being chased. I can’t take my eyes off of him. His hands grip the wheel, knuckles sharp and white. From the back seat,

  I can see out the windshield as he flies past exits leading to the towns and villages that have sprouted up beside the highway. I watch with a mixture of fear and excitement until he slows. His shoulders sag. He looks exhausted.

  “Lillian. Audrey. Wake up,” Rayne says. “It’s time to stop for the night.”

  Audrey raises her head. “Where are we?”

  “Cochrane. There are lots of motels on the highway.

  Do you want to be out here, or in town?”

  No one answers.

  I rouse myself, feeling refreshed and wondering where Cochrane is. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think I’ve ever been there.