Nothing But Blue (18 page)

A guy nearby breaks out a guitar. It's just what I would imagine a hobo setting would be like, except it's so pleasant and homelike, and I wouldn't have imagined that.

The kids take turns picking up Cracker Jack, who is the youngest, and cooing to him. He enjoys it for about five minutes and then starts whining and crying till Dumpling takes him back and cradles him. Pity, on the other hand, doesn't mind constant attention from small hands, so the kids turn to her. Shadow lies next to me and watches it all.

When the guy finishes with the guitar, he hands it to Snake.

“Play us one, Snake,” he says.

Cracker Jack squirms on his mother's lap and says, “Pay. Snake. Pay.”

Snake strums the guitar, then starts singing a kids' song called “Puff, the Magic Dragon.” I know the song. I had a CD of it along with some other kids' ballads when I was little. Sometimes I listened to it in my room when I couldn't sleep.

The kids come sit around Snake, and he asks them to sing along with the chorus. They do, wide-eyed and happy. It's a long, sad song about a boy and a dragon who are friends until one day the boy stops visiting the dragon and the dragon cries himself to death. The kids don't seem to mind how sad it is, but when Snake gets to the part about Puff ceasing his fearless roar and crying dragon-scale tears I want to cry. But I don't.

Finally the song is over. The kids hoot and holler, then resume running around.

Snake comes back over and sits.

“You're really good,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “I only know a few songs.”

Dumpling is next to us. She smiles. “You guys are sweet together,” she says.

I am totally embarrassed, but Snake just flashes a crooked grin.

“Why don't you go out with her, Snake?” she asks.

Now I am super embarrassed, until I realize she doesn't mean “out” as in date, but “out” as in riding the train.

Onion chips in, “Aren't you tempted, dude? Freedom. The open air. The stars. The
life.
You and the world.”

I glance at Snake. Would he come with me? Would I
want
him to?

Snake smiles like he's remembering. “Sure, I'm tempted. But I've got other things to do now.”

Onion scoffs. “What's a stupid job doing for you? You're working for the
man,
man.”

“I'd be dead by now if I'd stayed here, you know that,” Snake says. “Besides, my uncle needs me, and I kind of like running the motel.”

Onion holds up his arms like a criminal. “Okay, okay. I was just asking. Don't go all hissy on me.”

Cracker Jack gurgles sleepily in Dumpling's arms. She stands and whispers to me, “Let's put Cracker Jack to bed.”

Snake is engrossed in a conversation with Onion and some other guys, so I go with Dumpling. There are two old mattresses inside the tent. She lays Cracker Jack on the smaller one and covers him with a blanket. I sit cross-legged on the other.

I listen to her read a book to Cracker Jack. He looks at the pictures and rubs his eyes trying to stay awake, until finally he can't. His head nods and his breathing falls into the deep rhythm of sleep. Once again I am reminded of my mother. She used to read me to sleep when I was little. She sang sometimes, too. There was a time when my mother did motherly things. There were times when we did things like a family. Times we swam in the ocean, had picnics, ordered pizza and watched movies all snuggly on the couch. Mom, Dad, and me.

Like Cracker Jack trying to stop sleep, I try to stop the tears, but a few spill out and drip down my face, hot and silent. I wipe them away quickly.

Dumpling puts the book away and starts folding some laundry. For a minute we don't say anything. I don't know if she saw me crying or not. Then she starts talking. Just telling me things. She tells me she is twenty-six and she always, always wanted a baby. “Cracker Jack's my first. I want three more,” she says. “A family of six is perfect.” She rubs her belly and whispers, “Don't tell anyone, but I think I might be preggers with number two.”

She tells me how she met Onion when she was in the city and how they used to ride the trains all over the country. “It's a big, beautiful, wide world out there. Space like you never knew existed. People think there's nothing but highways and urban sprawl, but on a train all you see are mountains, fields, sky, and space.” She gets a wistful look. “But we don't ride anymore.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask.

“Sometimes, but I'd rather be here with my family. I like being in one place for now. I spent four years on the trains. Onion is a great guy—he may seem a little pompous sometimes, but it's all an act. He's got many layers to him—that's why he's called Onion.” She pauses. “What's up with you and Snake?”

“He's nice,” I say.

She raises her eyebrows. “That's all?”

“I don't think he likes me that way.”

“There's something you should know about Snake.” She puts the laundry down and sits next to me. “First he left home 'cause his dad almost beat him to death, and then his dad died. He fell madly in love with a girl, but they both loved something else more. She OD'ed in the night. He was too out of it to save her, and he blames himself. That's why he left.”

“Oh,” I say. I'm starting to realize that everyone has something awful in their life. No one is immune to pain.

“That's why he's afraid to get close,” Dumpling continues. “After his girlfriend died, he went on a binge and almost killed himself. But he's strong. He sobered up and got that job at his uncle's motel. It's amazing what people can survive.” She pauses. “Don't tell him I told you all this.”

“I won't.” I fiddle with my bracelet, Jake's bracelet. “How do you know if you
really
like someone or if you just think you do?” I ask.

“You feel it.” Dumpling puts her hand over her heart. “In here. Do you feel it?”

“I'm not sure.” I do feel something when I'm with Snake, and after what Dumpling just told me, I'm totally sad for him. He lost everyone. But what about me? How can I trust my feelings when I don't even know who I am or what's happened?

“You two connect, I can tell,” Dumpling says. “But sometimes you're the last to know if it's real or not. I didn't know with Onion right away. It takes time to trust.”

“I don't have time,” I say.

“There's always time,” she says. “Besides, you don't have to run away.”

“I'm not,” I say. “I'm going home.” The word
home
feels weird on my tongue, like it's a word that no longer belongs there. I expect my stomach to tighten, but it doesn't.

“Really?” says Dumpling. “That's so sweet. You're not running away, you're running home. You're not trying to start over. You're returning.” She says this as a fact, not a question. She may be right. I hadn't thought about it that way.

“You know what they say, though?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“You can't ever go back. Not really.”

Mom and Dad had been arguing all week, but on the morning of moving day my mother was a force to reckon with. When she was in panic mode it was wise to steer clear.

“Careful with that couch, one of the legs is wobbly!” she yelled at the movers, then at my father, “I
told
you we should've gone with the other company.”

“It'll be fine.” My father tried to calm her down but only made it worse.

I snuck upstairs so she couldn't start in on me. I went into my empty room and lay down smack in the center. I stared at the tree mural and the mushroom house. I wished I could move in there and never leave.

An August breeze rolled through the open window, warm and salty, carrying the call of gulls. I had imagined bringing Jake up to my room. I wanted him to come in right then, stand over me and ask if I was dead or asleep. I'd say neither. He'd lie on the floor next to me, wrap his arms around me and call me babe, tell me that he'd miss me like crazy and he'd come visit.

I checked the loose floorboard where I kept my secret stash. There were still three chocolate bars there. I ate two and was about to down the third when I heard footsteps in the hall. Jake! I waited for him to come bounding in, full of smiles and love. But it was only my father.

“It's time to go,” he said.

I trudged down the stairs.
Come on, Jake,
I pleaded. I clasped my “more-than-friendship” bracelet.
This is your last chance. Where are you? Please, please, please.

And lo and behold, when I got outside, there he was, walking up the driveway. At first I thought I must be seeing things. I blinked. It really was him. He'd heard my plea.

My mother was rearranging some things in the car; if she saw him, she didn't say anything. When Jake reached me I led him behind the maple tree. We stood face-to-face.

“We're moving,” I said, as if it were brand-new news. “Will you visit?” I was afraid I was sounding desperate, but I didn't care.

“I . . . I don't know.” He kicked the dirt. “Look, I'm really sorry. I can't do this.”

“What?” I asked. “Can't do what? Did I do something?” I held my breath.

“No,” he said. “I don't think so. I mean no, you didn't. I'm totally screwed up.”

“Was it the party? I should've stayed.”

“That's not it.”

“Then what?”

“It was supposed to be a joke. A stupid bet. It was Bradley's idea, but I went along with it.”

What did he mean, it was Bradley's idea? What was a bet? Dating him? The bracelet? Everything? Is that what Bradley meant when he said he owed Jake money?

“Forget about me,” he said.

“I don't want to forget about you,” I said. He looked so vulnerable. I was more confused than ever. I rubbed the bracelet between my fingers. Jake wouldn't do something like this.

“You should.” He took my hand. “But I want you to know, even though it started out as a bet, I
did
like you. That's why I couldn't keep going with it. And that's why you should forget it.” He dropped my hand, leaving it cold, and then walked away. Just like that.

This was so, so much worse than swatting me with a swim noodle. I thought about running after him. I was about to when my father came out of the house.

“We've got to go,” he said. “We've got a long trip ahead of us.”

I got into the car and we pulled away. I watched as Jake got smaller and smaller until he turned at the end of the street.

I glanced toward my bedroom window. I tried to imagine what it would be like for some other girl to live there, twirling in circles, dancing around and around my enchanted room.

I felt like I'd just lost everything I'd ever known.

Snake and I sleep in an empty tent in lane six. We go to sleep holding hands. When I wake up, Snake is propped on his elbow watching me.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I have to go back to the motel now,” he says. “Will you be all right?” I think about him being afraid to get too close to anyone. I am afraid, too.

As if on cue Shadow comes into the tent and nuzzles me. “I guess so,” I say.

“You're lucky you have Shadow,” Snake says. “You two are symbiotic.”

Shadow cocks his head, nods.
Yes. You are lucky.

“You have Pity,” I say, just as Pity comes scurrying in after Shadow and stretches her stumpy legs.

Snake picks her up, rocks her until she squirms, and puts her down again. He takes something from his backpack. “I made this for you.”

It's a robot clock, like the one in his room only much smaller. A watch piece makes its face and tiny springs stick out for arms and legs. It works, too. It's the same watch I tried on the night in the car. I laugh to think I almost was going to take this watch and now he's giving it to me.

“It's beautiful,” I say. “Thank you.” I put it in my pocket.

He holds out something else. It's the gun case. “Do you want this?”

I take a few steps back.

“It's dangerous out there. You might need it.” He opens the case, picks up the gun, and holds it out on his palm, the way you'd offer a carrot to a horse.

“It's so small.” I take the pistol, turn it over in my hands, feeling its weight. It's heavier than it looks. “This could really kill someone?” I ask.

“If you're close enough and have good aim. It can certainly maim something pretty bad.”

“Is it loaded?” I ask.

“It's in lock mode, so it can't go off.”

I hold the gun to my temple. Touch the metal barrel against my skin. For such a small object it has a lot of power. I close my eyes and imagine nothingness.

“Don't
do
that!! Don't ever do that!” Snake pulls my hand down.

Shadow whines at my side.

I open my eyes. “I thought you said it was locked.”

“It doesn't matter. Don't
ever
point a gun at anything unless you plan to shoot it,” Snake says.

My mind flickers back to the homeless guy, Jimbo, with the knife. What if I'd had a gun? If I shot him, I'd be a murderer. What if I had a gun that night in the woods when I saw the animal? Maybe I could have had it for supper. What if I'd pulled a gun on the cop who found me in the car? Or what if I am lying in the woods or on a bench in the middle of the night and I have a panic attack and the gun is right there? So simple. Maybe too simple.

I give the gun back to Snake and shake my head. “Thanks, but I can't.”

He puts it away. “I just want you to be safe. I care about you.” He pauses, then says, “I like you, Blue. I like you a lot, but the timing's just not right. I still need to figure some stuff out.”

I am happy, sad, and relieved all at the same time. I'm happy because he likes me. A lot! I'm sad because we have to say goodbye when we are just getting to know each other. I'm relieved because, well, because I want to like Snake, too. I
do
like him, but I can't really know for sure. Not now. I have some stuff to figure out, too. “I know,” I say. “Me, too.”