Downers Grove (21 page)

“You don't see what?”

“I don't see you stopping. I see you driving right off the edge of the world.”

“Don't you want to see what the edge of the world looks like?”

I stared at him, but didn't say anything. Once again Bobby had tangled me up in my own words. He looked up at me one last time, then shifted into gear. “I'll call you when I get there.” Bobby pulled away, drove up to the corner, turned right, and disappeared. I wiped away the fresh layer of tears clinging to the corner of my eye, turned, and ran across the school lawn, already regretting my decision.

A small brown pear tore from its sagging branch, shut-tled through the leaves, and bounced on the ground like a baseball landing in centerfield. The yard was littered with saucy brown pears. Some whole, others squashed by shoes, the garden sweet with their lucious smell of decay. Hovering wasps and bees drilled into the moist nectar oozing from the rotting pears, then flew off and circled in drunken euphoria, wasted in the Garden of Eden.

I parked my blanket in the backyard, far away from everyone and everything. I wanted to be alone with my sins. I wanted a chance to breathe without feeling like someone was fighting me for the same breath.

Just like that my mechanic rolled off into the horizon. It was a horrible choice, but the two of us on the highway headed nowhere in particular was a recipe for disaster. Like a pair of dice rolling across a long green table, sooner or later we'd have
to stop and deal with the consequences. And for better or worse, I wasn't ready to take those kinds of chances. I'm glad he's driving Mom's old Ford. It makes me think he'll be okay. It makes me feel like I'm still there with him, that he won't forget about me. I'm glad he got out of here without incident. I couldn't stand the thought of Bobby in jail. He was a basket of big trouble, but he did save my life.

Our relationship had the momentary intensity of a cloudburst and I doubt I was even remotely capable of handling the potential circumstances. I already have a vagabond father, I don't need a vagabond boyfriend. I know what it's like to grow up with that big hole in your heart.

I cracked open a Diet Coke and looked up into the sky. It seemed a lot clearer since the oil fire was put to rest. The clouds were whiter than white, the sky bluer than blue. A raven on the top branch of the pear tree pushed off, swung its big black wings and sailed over the lilac bushes, high above the willow tree and beyond the power lines.

I got a call from the manager at the DQ and he said I could start as early as Monday. Hopefully I'll save up enough money to get an apartment with Tracy in the city next fall. It's going to be a whole summer of sticky red smocks, but at least there will be air-conditioning. And one thing is for sure, my social life will not suffer.

Meanwhile, my career in publishing continues to blossom. Ad revenue for the fanzine doubled and then tripled, and it looks like distribution will spread to record shops in Lombard, Hinsdale, and Lisle. People are already saying the first issue is a collector's item.

Mom's still in denial about Starman, but I have a feeling
she's just hesitant about jumping into round two without more training camp. She's still driving his car and he still pays for her dinners, so I figure she must be doing something right. I have a feeling she's just waiting for a bigger slice of pie.

David decided to keep the band together despite ominous threats from our neighbor, and I'm glad, because he finally has something to focus his attention on besides his bug zapper and gin rummy. They even got a gig at that club in Chicago, thanks to Tracy, who is now acting as their manager. If she can't have him, she's at least going to keep an eye on him. Grandma is continually locked away in her basement rewiring the forces of nature, and Dad is still absent as sunshine at midnight.

The world keeps spinning faster, and I'm still looking for a handle to hold on to, the alternatives aren't exactly a pail of cupcakes. My heart beats backward when I think of the mechanic, but I know deep in my heart that what burns today will still flicker tomorrow, and if he shows up anywhere on the map I'll find him. I'll buy the lipstick and he'll buy the beer and what happens after that is none of your business.

In the meantime, I'll be maintaining a very low profile. No sense in kicking dust in the eyes of God or anything. I'm sure She's got it out for me already.