Flee, Fly, Flown Read online

  “My grandson? He’s fine, thank you. He’s just been working too hard lately.” I assure her that we are simply heading home after visiting relatives in Mattawa and dismiss her with polite thanks for her concern.

  Rayne returns and takes a seat at the table. He refuses to look at Audrey and me, just shovels food into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow. He finishes his coffee in one gulp and then leaves the restaurant. When we join him outside, he is standing in the shelter of the doorway out of the rain. Without a word we take our places in the car.

  “Good breakfast, eh?” I say. “We should get going though. We could cover a lot of distance today in this rain.”

  Shadow bounces from the back seat to the front and licks Rayne’s hand, her rear end leaning on Audrey’s lap, then jumps back again to lie on her blanket beside me. Rayne doesn’t make a move to start the car. He just sits there looking back and forth at us.

  He finally speaks, his voice edgy and sharp. “You escaped from a nursing home? And don’t try to scam me. I need to know the truth.”

  “Escaped is not really the word I would use,” I say. “It seems wrong when you say it like that. We left The Home to go on a little holiday, that’s all.”

  “You left without telling anyone?”

  “They wouldn’t have let us go if we’d told them. They don’t trust us,” I say. “We have to be walked by someone else, just like a dog, even to go on the elevator. They never would have let us go.”

  Rayne stares out through the windshield. “What’s so horrible about where you live? Do they abuse you? I’m trying to understand why you’re so adamant about running away.”

  I try to remember why we left. “It’s like we’re already dead. Outside everyone forgets about us. Inside people talk about us when we’re standing right there; make decisions for us without asking. We’re invisible. I don’t even want to get up in the mornings. There’s more, too. I just don’t feel like telling you right now.”

  Audrey listens, hands folded in her lap, thumbs circling round and round each other in a soothing rhythm. “You’ll stay with us, won’t you? We’re family now.”

  Rayne’s face softens for a second, then he focuses his attention back out the window. “And the car?”

  “It was Audrey’s car until she sold it to a neighborhood boy. Tell him, Audrey.” I continue. “We borrowed it for our trip. How else would we get around?”

  “Does he know?”

  “Who?”

  “The owner of the car. Does he know you have it?”

  “Not exactly.” I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “No, he doesn’t, but there’s no need to speak to us in that tone of voice. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Rayne grabs the steering wheel with both hands and leans his forehead against it. “So, I’m transporting runaways across the country in a stolen car.” He sits up straight and slams his fist on the dash. “Shit! Damn it, Lillian! Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m in with this? The cops are gonna catch up with you, and who are they gonna blame? Two old ladies with money and serious dementia issues? Or a homeless guy with nothing in his pockets and a record showing a couple of petty charges and vagrancy? I’m such an idiot.”

  He closes his eyes and for a moment, the only movement is in the muscles of his jaw as he grinds his teeth forward and back. “I should have followed my gut. I wondered who the hell would let two people with Alzheimer’s go on a trip by themselves, but I figured they must know better than me. Jesus, Lillian. What were you thinking?”

  I sit back in my seat. “What kind of petty charges?”

  Rayne looks annoyed.

  “Never mind,” I say. “Don’t worry. You’re innocent and so are we.”

  “Yeah? And you’re crazy!” He swears again and pounds on the steering wheel. The car is suddenly cavernous. Shadow’s panting fills the spaces between us.

  Audrey stares at Rayne as if trying to figure out who has suddenly taken his place. She shakes her finger at him, the skin on the back of her upper arm swaying and rippling. “You stop your swearing. There’s no need for that,” she says, then, matter-of-factly, “We’re not crazy. Having Alzheimer’s doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”

  “Stealing a car and running away from everything—that’s crazy whether you have Alzheimer’s or not.”

  “You ran away from everything,” I say.

  “Two really big differences: I told my dad I was leaving and I didn’t steal someone’s car. I get the leaving part, but the rest is just bad planning. You had to know you were gonna cause trouble doing it that way.”

  “No,” I say, “we just decided, and we did it. We aren’t hurting anyone.”

  Rayne struggles to fit the key in the ignition. His hands are shaking. “You need to go to the police and let them know where you are and tell them your story about the car.”

  We both answer together. “No!”

  “Oh yeah, you have to. People are worried about you, not to mention if we get stopped, I’m goin’ down as the bad guy. You can count on that.”

  “No, we can’t go to the police. We haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not ready to go back yet.”

  Rayne shakes his head. “Except for the car! That’s a huge exception. That’s a major theft charge, and I can’t risk that falling on me. I have to go. You two are on your own.” His voice grows softer as he comes to this conclusion.

  Audrey looks terrified.

  A chill sweeps across the back of my neck and down my arms “Do you really think anyone would think badly of you for helping out two old ladies with Alzheimer’s?” I ask. I take hold of his sleeve. “I’d be proud of my son if he did something so kind. We’ll be lost without you. Can’t you stay?”

  “There’s no way we’re gonna make it all the way to B.C. without getting caught in this stolen car,” Rayne says.

  “How will they know it’s stolen?” I ask. My thoughts start to jangle more loosely. I feel a lump rising in my throat and my voice is shaky. “Maybe the boy next door didn’t even report it missing. Maybe he’s away on vacation too.”

  Audrey perks up. “Oh! What month is this? His family always goes away in the summer. I bet they’re not even home. They don’t even know!”

  Rayne looks doubtful. “How old is this kid? He’s old enough to drive. He wouldn’t go with his parents to their cottage. He’d have a summer job, a girlfriend. He wouldn’t go.”

  “Maybe not,” I say, “but we don’t know that.”

  “Yeah,” Audrey adds.

  “Is that part of the disease? You believe whatever far-fetched fantasy suits your purpose?” Rayne says.

  Water streams down the windows. Shadow lays her chin on my lap and whimpers softly until I stroke her head again and again.

  “You need to go back,” Rayne says.

  Audrey turns to face me. “Maybe he’s right.”

  “No. I’m not going back yet.” I refuse to look at her.

  Rayne takes the keys from the ignition, pops the trunk, and hands the keys to me. “You’ll have to go on alone then.

  I can’t risk being involved.” We listen as he shifts things around in the trunk and removes his guitar and large pack. He opens the door and calls Shadow to follow him. She stands on the seat, tail drawn close to her back legs. She turns and licks me before jumping out beside Rayne.

  “Best of luck,” he says. “I hope you make it to the Rockies. They’re unbelievably beautiful; worth seeing at least once.” He closes the door and walks away with Shadow close behind, rain drizzling down, soaking everything.

  8

  We watch them go, sitting in the car long after they’re out of sight. Finally, I move from the back seat into the front behind the steering wheel and fit the key into the ignition. “Are you with me?”

  “I’m with you,”
Audrey says. “Let’s see the Rockies.”

  I accelerate slowly toward the road, look left and right, then left again, then back at Audrey. “Which way do we go?”

  Audrey looks up and down the road through the rain. She points to the left. I pull out and crest the small hill. Rayne and Shadow are walking along the shoulder of the road.

  “Stop and pick them up, they’re getting drenched,” Audrey says.

  I pull over just past them and wait for them to approach.

  Audrey rolls down the window and shouts, “Come on, hop in. We’ll give you a lift.”

  Rayne keeps walking without acknowledging us.

  “Yoohoo. Hello,” Audrey shouts, “Come and get dry.”

  “Get away from me,” he says as he passes the car. “I don’t know you.”

  “It’s Audrey and Lillian. You know us,” Audrey says.

  She turns and looks at me, her brow wrinkled. “He says he doesn’t know us.”

  I pull back out onto the pavement. “We don’t need him.”

  Audrey watches out the rear window until they are out of sight. The traffic is light and I set my own pace—slow and steady. Trucks and cars come from behind, gain on us, and pass like we’re standing still, sometimes with an impatient honk of their horns, nearly sending us over the edge of the road.

  I try to watch for signs and point them out to Audrey as we pass. “We’re near a place called Moonbeam,” I say. “Why don’t you see if you can find that on the map?”

  She’s still looking for that when I notice a sign for the city of Kapuskasing. Just off the highway, there is a huge grocery store. “Let’s buy some fruit and cookies and things to make sandwiches. We’ll have a picnic later,” I say.

  Driving in the parking lot is a little like driving in downtown Ottawa—one-way streets, stop signs everywhere, and cars zipping in and out of spaces without warning till you nearly want to scream. We park quite a distance from the store because there is more room to maneuver, and with the rain pouring down, it is very hard to see clearly. We head for an expanse of wall, hoping to find a door, not visible from where we are.

  “It’s got to be behind that wall.”

  “What does?” Audrey asks.

  “The door. We need to get inside, or how else will we buy what we need?”

  “No need to get snarky,” Audrey says. “Just having a hard time keeping up with the plans. You could be more clear, you know.”

  We follow some other people to a door that’s hidden behind a jutting wall. The store is cold and bright and there are rows and rows as far as we can see, and farther. In the vegetable and fruit section, waxy produce shines in mountains of color. We round a corner and find ourselves surrounded by bins of candies and nuts and spices. Spying a bin of Jujubes, Audrey reaches in and takes a handful. She pops a couple in her mouth and offers some to me.

  There are so many aisles filled with baking supplies, cleaning products, cereal, crackers, soup, bags and bags of chips, and every kind of pop you can imagine.

  “Can we get chips?” Audrey asks.

  “Sure.”

  Up and down the aisles we go until we’ve made our way through the whole store.

  “My back is killing me,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  We find the door and start through.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am.”

  I turn to see who is speaking.

  “Did you pay for those chips?”

  I look at Audrey, surprised to see the bright blue bags of chips in her hand. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m sorry. What do we need to do?” I fumble in my purse, embarrassed at having to be reminded. “How much are they, Dear?”

  The clerk places her hands on her hips. “Oh, no. You don’t fool me. You people are the worst—pretending you’ve forgotten. Please! You need to speak with the manager.” She plucks the bags from Audrey’s arms and picks up a microphone. “Grocery Manager to cash, please. Grocery Manager to cash.”

  The announcement blares through the whole store and before long, a very large, baby-faced young man eases up beside the cashier.

  The woman points at Audrey and me and waves the bags of chips in the man’s face. “They tried to walk out with these,” she says, as if “these” are diamonds or pearls.

  I can feel Audrey moving closer until she is leaning on me, her hand shaking and her breathing heavy.

  The man wipes sweat from his forehead, even while

  I shiver from the cold. “I have to ask you to come with me, ladies,” he says, looking at us for the first time.

  “The hell we will,” I say in a very loud voice. “Forget the chips. Are you saying we tried to steal them? We’ll never shop here again, and we’ll tell all our friends to stay away from…what’s the name of this store, anyway?”

  The man tries to hush me with a wave of his hand. “No need to get upset, Ma’am. Just follow me.”

  He shuffles around the end of the conveyer belt, motioning for us to follow. Audrey looks at me for direction.

  “We will do no such thing,” I say. “What do we know about you and what you have in mind for us? Two respectable women traveling alone have to be careful. Whatever you have to say to us, you can say it right here in front of all these people, young man.”

  “Look,” he says, blushing several shades of red. “I’m a manager here, and I can’t just let customers walk out of the store with food they haven’t paid for. Now, you did not pay for those chips, am I right?”

  “We forgot. We would have noticed and come back to pay. Good grief, we’re not thieves. We’re hungry and—did

  I mention—I have excruciating pain thundering up and down my spine, and the longer we stand here, the worse it gets?”

  His face puffs up until I think it will explode, and he flashes a disapproving look at the cashier. “All right. Look, we’ll just let it go this time. If you want the chips, you just need to pay for them and we’ll be happy to send you on your way.”

  The cashier stares him down and mumbles something under her breath. He stays and watches as she swipes the chips across the scanner and tucks them into a grocery bag. She takes the money I offer and hands me the change. “There you go,” she says. “Have a nice day.”

  Outside, the sun has broken through the clouds. Audrey grabs my arm and laughs. “That was like a rollercoaster ride. First you want it to be over and when it is, you want to do it again.”

  Exhaustion grips my back and pinches it into spasms of pain. “I can’t go any farther. I have to sit down.”

  “There’s nowhere to sit. Come on, you can do this, just a little farther,” Audrey urges.

  My eyes start to water. “I don’t know where the car is.”

  “We’ll find it, don’t cry. Look, there are a couple of young men who will help us.” She waves her arms and calls to them as if they’re old friends. “Hello. Excuse me. Could you help us find our car?”

  “Oh, God. Has it come to this?” I say.

  The two hoodlums jostle each other and scuff their way over to us. “Watsup?”

  One of the boys pushes his friend forward. “You lost?”

  The other boy looks at me and then scans the lot.

  Audrey reaches her hand out to greet the boy who spoke. With one swift motion, he grabs her purse and pushes her down. The two of them run through the lot, disappearing into the maze of trucks and vans. Audrey sits motionless and stunned on the pavement.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, bending over her. “Those, those—cowardly little bullies! Can you move your legs?”

  A young mother, holding her toddler, rushes over to help. “I’ll call an ambulance and the police,” she says, looking for her cell phone.

  “No. No, don’t do that just yet,” I say. “Audrey, can you move?”

  Audrey swivels a little s
o she is sitting straight and lifts her knees. “I went down in slow motion,” she says. “It was the strangest feeling.”

  “I’m calling the police. Those boys can’t get away with that,” the woman says. She’s dialing 911.

  “No, please don’t,” I say. “We’re in a hurry, and we don’t want to make a fuss.” I take Audrey’s hand and the woman helps to hoist her up from behind.

  “This is crazy. We need to report this,” the woman insists. She hands Audrey the cane lying on the ground. “Those kids took your purse.”

  “I’m all right.” Audrey takes one step and then another. “Look. I can walk. Now, if we can just find our car, I can rest. I’ll be fine.”

  “There you go, see? You’re disoriented. You don’t even know where your car is. You should get checked out in the emergency room.” The woman chases after her toddler who has slipped away from her grasp. “Let me at least help you find your car.”

  “It’s an Oldsmobile Intrigue, blue,” Audrey says, as if rhyming off her own name.

  “I remember that we parked away from the other cars so it would be easier,” I say, pointing toward the back of the lot. We find the car with the lady’s help, and although Audrey struggles to walk the distance, she insists the woman not call the police. The little boy starts fussing and crying, kicking to break away from his mom. The woman hesitates, then gives in and wishes us well. Before we drive away, I see her dialing someone on her phone.

  My head is spinning, fogging up so that I have to pull over in the lot and turn off the car. I can’t drive. I need time to sort out all that has happened.

  “If Rayne was here, he would have fixed those boys but good,” Audrey says. “Who were they anyway? Did you know them?”

  “No. They were hooligans, criminals in the making. You can’t be asking for help from just anyone like that. We need to discuss it first and decide who’s safe. You’re too trusting.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, stop apologizing. I’m sorry.”

  We stare out the window, too tired to think about what to do next. “Did they take the chips?” Audrey asks.