Outtakes Of A Walking Mistake (26 page)

“There he is!” Kim says. Torching the darkness with her cigarette, she leads mom in my direction along the sidewalk outside the cafeteria. Painted like a clown, mom’s fresh off the circus circuit, wearing a red wig and a polka-dotted skirt. Thank God she never made it inside, I tell myself. Then everyone, including Billy, would have had a first-hand look at how bat-shit crazy runs in my family.

“Tyler!” mom calls. Her rubber shoes squeak when she steps and I pause to listen for the sound of my high school career being flushed down the toilet.

“Hey, I’m mad at you,” Kim informs me, before mom has a chance to breathe another word. “You never told me your mom could talk to the ocean. How could you forget to mention such a thing? I’m sure everyone at school would be interested to know that.”

“It’s no big deal,” mom says. “Anyone can do it.”

I can’t believe this. Seconds after meeting mom, Kim manages to fish out a family secret. Now, I’ll have to make good on those acting lessons I promised earlier to keep the little minx quiet. “Yes, anyone can talk to the ocean,” I agree. “I’ll tell Kim all about it at her first acting lesson.”

“I look forward to it,” Kim smiles, taking a short drag of her cigarette. “Oh, and one more thing. I trust you’ll be eating lunch with me for rest of the school year.”

Please. As if the girl has room in her stomach to digest food.

“Fine,” I grumble.

“And I like to be told how skinny I am while I eat.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Can’t hate a girl for trying.”

Oh, yes I can.

“Well, I better be off then. Nice to meet you, Anna,” Kim says, blowing mom a fake kiss.

“Likewise,” mom replies.

“By the way, bonus points for the edgy ensemble,” Kim adds, with a wicked wink. Then slinking off on her imaginary runway, she waves us away, holding her cigarette to the sky as if she were lighting stars with its cherry.

“What a welcoming spirit,” mom notes. “I’m happy to see you blessed with such a nice friend. How did you get so popular?”

“Trust me. I’m far from popular. And that welcoming spirit only talks to me when she needs something.”

“Really?” mom says, puzzled. Can’t she recall high school politics? Doesn’t she know blackmailing someone is the only true way to obtain a friend? “She told me you’re the only one she trusts.”

“She did?”

“I wouldn’t lie. She said before you she didn’t have any friends here, only in Miami.”

Well, that’s enough of a revelation to stir my brain into a batter of goo. Kim trusts me? Why? What have I done to earn it? Who knows? Maybe I’ve been so busy building up my artillery against Kim’s unbridled attacks that I haven’t taken time to realize her covert mission, her plan to win me over.

“Forget Kim,” I urge mom, sensing my brain working on overload. “I don’t have time to figure her out. What are you doing here? I thought you had a show.”

“Ronald allowed me to leave early so I could see you on your big night. He knows how important you are to me.”

“Yeah right,” I snap. “I’m so freaking important. Everyone loves me! Everyone wants to be my friend! Everyone wants to see me! Except no one wants to be seen with me, at least not in public.”

“Tyler,” mom says, concerned.

“No! I’m sick of it. I’m so great and so talented except no one wants me in the stupid film!”

“Oh, you’re crying,” mom notes. Wiping my eyes, I realize she’s right. “What’s wrong?”

“They cut me out of the movie!”

“Oh honey,” she says, reaching for my hand.

“Don’t,” I say, backing away. “Just go back to the circus. I’m not going to be very good company tonight.” Mom does a double take. The downward slope of her mouth signals sadness, even though her false painted-on smile continues to beam. Being blessed with a face full of contradictions must run in my family. At home, I fake smiles for dad and Jenny to keep them happy, even while tears are trapped in the sinkholes of my eyes. For once, I’d like someone to pretend everything is ok for me.

“Tyler!” mom calls from behind as I race off in the darkness. Her tone is almost parental. “Don’t run from me! I’m your mother!” Then squeak, her shoes squeal, piercing my ears as she starts after me in a quick, uneven pace. I know she won’t get far so I raise the ante, building to a light jog. “You can’t run from your problems,” she yells, out of breath. “You don’t want to end up like me!”

“Leave me alone,” I say. Still, she persists.

Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Welcome to my three-ring circus. The first and second ring, they each contain one of my nuts. Consider them an offering to God for being a pussy and running like a chicken from mom. In the third ring, feast your eyes on my world-renowned butt. Now, gather a large wooden paddle and spank me. Knock me out. Put me out of my misery.

“I’m not giving up!” mom yells, as we near the chain-linked fence bordering the school parking lot. Taking in the festivities, a black skater kid with shaggy hair stops pumping his board long enough to enjoy the greatest show on earth.

Where are the lightning bolts when you need them? I’ll be mortified if anyone hears word of this. It’s not fair. The tall parking lot lights, they tower above my head, bright enough to light up a baseball stadium. Just my luck, my one chance at being in the spotlight, and I’m running from a clown like my life is some Stephen King novel.

Thankfully, the skater mounts his board and leaves the scene when mom loses one of her shoes and stubs her toe on the pavement. I stop and turn to see if she’s ok.

“Ouch!” she howls.

“Break something?” I ask.

“Just my spirit,” she says. Hopping on her good foot, she retrieves her clown shoe and plops on the pavement with a wheeze. “Come. Sit with me.”

“My God, how embarrassing.”

“Sit,” she demands.

“This sucks,” I moan, following her directions.

Dusting pebbles off her naked foot, mom laughs at herself and begins talking about karma. How stubbing her toe was fate and how the pain she caused me must have finally boomeranged back. “A scratch, that’s all we got here,” she says, pointing to a cut on her toe. “I deserve worse.”

“No you don’t. Stop it with the karma crap. I’m not mad at you. It’s over.”

“You think so?”

“Yes!” Then I think, why should I lie? What do I have to hide? Mom has no reason to pass judgment. Here we are, two outcasts, sitting like bums in the school parking lot. What does either of us have to lose? “Fine. I’m mad at you but I’m sick of it. I want to let it go. I just don’t know how.”

Sighing, mom squeezes her foot in the shoe and takes a final breath before standing. Exhausted, she pulls off her wig, allowing her brown hair to fall down to her shoulders. Here, I expect she’ll share a few insightful words. Spiritual talk, if you will – talk of the sun, the moon, the sea, and how we’re all connected. This is what I believe she’ll share, but I’m wrong. “Look at me. I’m a fool,” she says. “I’ve read all of these books to make peace with you, to make peace with myself, but I can’t expect you to forgive me. Not in a few days.”

“You’re not a fool.”

“I feel like one,” she’s says. Looking down at me, she wrinkles her face like she’s annoyed at herself. “You don’t remember but I couldn’t even make dinner when you were young. I was too selfish to learn, to give up my life. Now, I’m expecting a piece of yours. That’s not fair. It’s best that I leave.”

“What???”

Studying my face, she captures my despair but still manages to smile. Who knows? Maybe she senses my love for her hidden below.

“Do you need a ride home?” she asks.

“No. I’m fine. I’ll walk,” I say, standing up.

“Ok then. I’m off. I have to wake early tomorrow. The circus is headed to Orlando. You remember, right?”

“Yeah, you’re leaving. I know.”

Stalling, she checks the hour on her watch. Then bidding me farewell, she walks to her car.

‘Run after her!’ my heart screams. She’s here to fix your broken parts. That’s better than nothing. Give her a chance. Fill that Grand Canyon hole in your soul. Don’t let her go. Urge her to tell you all of the family secrets, every awful one, every wonderful one, until you feel connected. Tell her you’ve been waiting on her since forever. And forever, you’ll feel alone until you allow her back in your life.

“Why did dad make you leave?” I call out.

Halfway to her BMW, mom freezes in place under the light. The keys in her hand, they rattle like reindeer bells, telling me of her nervous tension. “I wasn’t…happy being a housewife.” She trails off.

“That’s not good enough. No one’s happy being a housewife.”

“Your father put my needs before his own. That’s what you do when you love someone. You’ll give up anything to make that person happy.”

“So, are you happy now?” I walk toward her from behind. She pauses for a moment, thinking before she answers. Then her shoulders collapse like they’ve just released air, and slowly, she releases the truth.

“No, I’m not happy,” she says in a whisper. “I pretend, but how can I be? Every day, it’s always right there. I have to live knowing I gave you up. Every day, I pay for that.”

Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

This is what I needed to hear.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

This is what I needed to know.

I touch her shoulder and she turns, viewing me with tears. Her clown smile, her wacky words of wisdom, can no longer hide the pain.

“You cut me from your life. They cut me from the film. I have all these cuts,” I say. Silently, she extends her hand, and I take it, allowing her to pull me in. “How could you cut me?” I press my face to her chest and she does the best thing a parent can do at a time like this. She says it’ll be ok. Even if it’s not, she pretends.
It will be ok. It will be ok.
Softly, her soft voice soothes me.

“Maybe one day, if I’m lucky, you’ll grant me the chance to help you heal,” she says. Then pulling away she says it’s time to go.

Reflecting on her words, I observe her red taillights disappear in the night. Then I head off, reaching the sidewalk bordering Highway 41, wondering if walking home is a good idea. Taking a deep breath, a sinking sensation in my chest reminds me that mom is gone and though I strive to stay positive, negativity drags me to the ground. Who gets a happy ending in life anyway? Nobody gets a happy beginning. Right at birth, we’re slapped. Slapping me with a kiss, mom urged me to forgive dad before leaving. “He loves you so much,” she said.

“He loves you too,” I told her. Aware, she stated that’s why she won’t be calling him to say goodbye.

“He’ll never move on if we continue to talk,” she feared.

Nevertheless, she’ll never lose sight of me, not again. She’ll continue to send letters. Long letters sealed in bright, pink envelopes. Each note will tell me where she is in the world and how I can reach her if I need to talk. “Will you open them?” she asked.

I couldn’t give her an answer.

I needed time to think about it.

Now alone, I have time to think but I’m still conflicted. Will reading about her life leave me feeling deserted? Will I spend hours reading between the lines? In the past, I wasn’t strong enough to let mom in. Am I different? Have I changed? I like to think so.

It’s weird. Before, the thought of missing mom would drive me crazy. I would beat myself up for it. She’s not worth it I would tell myself. Why do I care? She doesn’t miss me. But now I know the truth. She does miss me.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Foolish mortal!

I shall use this weapon against her!

Just kidding….

Seriously, it’s just satisfying to know she cares. And for now, that’s enough to make me think that missing her is justified. I no longer feel stupid. I just wish I were smart enough to accept her car ride. All this family drama has left me exhausted. But still, I trek forth.

Along the highway, I reach a new grocery store complex where I dodge cars entering the freshly paved parking lot. I breathe in new tar and it makes me high. Euphoria won’t last long though. A brown mini-van honks, urging me to move so I pick up the pace. Still, the honking becomes more consistent. It’s not the mini-van though. No, I’m running. I’m running and after a final honk, I turn as a car cruises into the parking lot and illuminates my body with its headlights.

“Yo! Shit for brains!” the driver calls. Turning, I view Eric leaning out of his Mustang. Shirtless, he flicks a cigarette on the ground. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s not safe to walk alone at night?” He smiles wide. “Come on. Get in. I’ll protect you.”