nodded.
“Mother?” I leaned my head in the front door and listened for a reply. I knew she’d made it home before me. Her Civic was out front, and I smelled pot roast cooking.
“In the kitchen.” Her perky voice ended on two descending singsong high notes.
I motioned Greg and Farrah in ahead of me. I whispered to the two young people. “Down this hall, first door on the right.” I used a half shout for my mother. ”I’ll be in there in a second. Gotta run to the bathroom first.”
“Okey dokey,” she sang.
I scurried ahead of the kids to my room, the kitchen noise and hall carpeting muffling what little sound we made. My feet were like raindrops; theirs were as silent as dew. I may have trained to be Sacajawea, but they’d had a lot more real-world experience at becoming invisible and soundless. We entered my Western-themed room and I pulled the door shut behind us, turning the knob so that the latch wouldn’t click as I eased it closed. I flipped on the bedside table lamp, and low light bathed my childhood bedroom. Green and brown-clad cowgirls rode horseback across every fabric surface—the wall included—twirling their lassos against a red background.
Greg made a prune face, like he’d gotten a snoot of vinegar. “Holy shit, this room is—”
“Really cool.” Farrah smiled for the first time since I’d known her.
My mother kept the house a sweltering eighty degrees in the winter, yet neither Greg nor Farrah removed their black knit caps. The ends of her pixie hair curled around the edges of hers. Her smile sparkled from her eyes like onyx.
Greg shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” The boy’s hair, lighter than Farrah’s, showed below the edges of his cap, and it was longer and stringier, like a young Kurt Cobain. So was his body. I’d have to feed him while he was here—a lot.
Farrah turned to me. “I love horses.”
“Me, too. As you probably guessed, this was my room when I was a lot younger.” And now, for the time being, anyway. My divorce had left me essentially destitute. I planned to move out when I had enough cash, which I hoped would be soon. “We can make spots for you to sleep on the floor in here with me for tonight, and figure out a better plan for tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Pink spotted Farrah’s cheeks, the only color besides her lips on her entire body. “We know you could get in a lot of trouble for this. We won’t let it happen.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Greg lowered his voice. He couldn’t be more than fifteen, and Farrah younger than that, and the affectation made him sound even younger.
“Yep. We just have to keep you guys a secret from everyone.” Especially Wallace. He would be fired or even arrested if he didn’t report the runaways back to the authorities. “Okay, I’m going to see my mother so she doesn’t come looking for me. There are blankets and pillows in the closets, the password’s taped to the monitor for the desktop, and there are books down there.” I pointed to the bottom shelf on my nightstand. “Lock the doorknob, and I’ll be back soon, with food.”
They nodded, and I slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. On the other side, I leaned against it and drew in a huge breath and held it, counting to five-one-thousand, then let it out. I pasted a smile on my face. It felt wrong, and I tried again. Better. I walked to the kitchen.
The kitchen décor made my bedroom seem blah. Red cedar paneling competed with gold Formica countertops and wallpaper of blue and purple flowers and twirling green vines. The chrome-legged table had a Formica top, too, but green. It could drive a woman to drink, which sounded like a good idea about now. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the box wine.
“How was your day, Mother?”
“You’ll never believe it, but Pastor Robb announced today that he’s leaving. Only this must have been in the works for a while, because we’ll have a new pastor by Sunday.
“Mother?” I leaned my head in the front door and listened for a reply. I knew she’d made it home before me. Her Civic was out front, and I smelled pot roast cooking.
“In the kitchen.” Her perky voice ended on two descending singsong high notes.
I motioned Greg and Farrah in ahead of me. I whispered to the two young people. “Down this hall, first door on the right.” I used a half shout for my mother. ”I’ll be in there in a second. Gotta run to the bathroom first.”
“Okey dokey,” she sang.
I scurried ahead of the kids to my room, the kitchen noise and hall carpeting muffling what little sound we made. My feet were like raindrops; theirs were as silent as dew. I may have trained to be Sacajawea, but they’d had a lot more real-world experience at becoming invisible and soundless. We entered my Western-themed room and I pulled the door shut behind us, turning the knob so that the latch wouldn’t click as I eased it closed. I flipped on the bedside table lamp, and low light bathed my childhood bedroom. Green and brown-clad cowgirls rode horseback across every fabric surface—the wall included—twirling their lassos against a red background.
Greg made a prune face, like he’d gotten a snoot of vinegar. “Holy shit, this room is—”
“Really cool.” Farrah smiled for the first time since I’d known her.
My mother kept the house a sweltering eighty degrees in the winter, yet neither Greg nor Farrah removed their black knit caps. The ends of her pixie hair curled around the edges of hers. Her smile sparkled from her eyes like onyx.
Greg shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” The boy’s hair, lighter than Farrah’s, showed below the edges of his cap, and it was longer and stringier, like a young Kurt Cobain. So was his body. I’d have to feed him while he was here—a lot.
Farrah turned to me. “I love horses.”
“Me, too. As you probably guessed, this was my room when I was a lot younger.” And now, for the time being, anyway. My divorce had left me essentially destitute. I planned to move out when I had enough cash, which I hoped would be soon. “We can make spots for you to sleep on the floor in here with me for tonight, and figure out a better plan for tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Pink spotted Farrah’s cheeks, the only color besides her lips on her entire body. “We know you could get in a lot of trouble for this. We won’t let it happen.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Greg lowered his voice. He couldn’t be more than fifteen, and Farrah younger than that, and the affectation made him sound even younger.
“Yep. We just have to keep you guys a secret from everyone.” Especially Wallace. He would be fired or even arrested if he didn’t report the runaways back to the authorities. “Okay, I’m going to see my mother so she doesn’t come looking for me. There are blankets and pillows in the closets, the password’s taped to the monitor for the desktop, and there are books down there.” I pointed to the bottom shelf on my nightstand. “Lock the doorknob, and I’ll be back soon, with food.”
They nodded, and I slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. On the other side, I leaned against it and drew in a huge breath and held it, counting to five-one-thousand, then let it out. I pasted a smile on my face. It felt wrong, and I tried again. Better. I walked to the kitchen.
The kitchen décor made my bedroom seem blah. Red cedar paneling competed with gold Formica countertops and wallpaper of blue and purple flowers and twirling green vines. The chrome-legged table had a Formica top, too, but green. It could drive a woman to drink, which sounded like a good idea about now. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the box wine.
“How was your day, Mother?”
“You’ll never believe it, but Pastor Robb announced today that he’s leaving. Only this must have been in the works for a while, because we’ll have a new pastor by Sunday.
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