Chasing Rainbows A Novel

SEVEN


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Precisely an hour later, my car and I sat idling at the curb outside the food court entrance. Ashley was nowhere in sight.

I sat impatiently for what had to be two or three minutes, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, then I turned on the car’s emergency blinkers and pushed myself out of the car.

Fortunately, I’d pulled on one of my better sweatshirts after my shower, this one sporting a roomy, identity-disguising hood. I snapped the soft fleece up over my head and slipped on my sunglasses, imagining other mall shoppers might mistake me for a glamorous movie star and not some crazed beauty-kiosk attacker who’d been banned from the mall for life.

I stood at the entrance to the food court and realized two things. Every young girl sitting around gabbing with her friends and sipping soda looked exactly like Ashley, and I hadn’t eaten in forty-eight hours.

Famished suddenly, I scanned the menu signs above the sea of food counters, looking for that perfect something to fill the empty pit in my stomach.

Salads, no.

Smoothies, no.

I wanted nothing good for me. Not now. Probably not ever.

My gaze landed on the Taco Bar and I made my move, walking confidently toward the line of people waiting to order. I forced myself to look straight ahead and not nervously over each shoulder as if the mall security guard posse might move in at any second.

As I took my place in line, I studied the menu carefully. This wasn’t a selection to be made lightly. After all, this was the first meal of post-divorce-papers life. And then I saw it.

The super-sized taco deluxe.

My stomach growled so loudly the woman in front of me grabbed her child’s hand and stepped between us, like a mother bear protecting her cub from the hungry wolf.

I rolled my eyes.

Several minutes later, I’d just taken my first bite of perfectly seasoned meat, lettuce, tomato and soft taco when I heard footsteps snap to a stop at close range. Unless Ashley had taken to wearing combat boots, this might spell trouble.

“You.” A voice boomed behind my left ear.

I spun around, almost spitting out my food when the recognition set in. The security guard who’d apprehended me at the Rediscover You counter glared at me, obviously none too pleased.

I shifted the food into my cheeks and stammered incoherently. “This isn’t what you think.”

He frowned, obviously unable to understand a word I’d said. My mother had always warned me about stuffing my mouth so full of food I couldn’t talk.

The guard hoisted his walkie-talkie to his lips. “I need backup at the Taco Bar.”

Ashley appeared in my line of sight and broke into a jog, no doubt realizing the sight of her aunt faced off with a security guard could only mean one thing. Embarrassment. She skittered to a stop beside me.

“I’m just picking her up. Honest.” I swallowed my food, tossed out the rest of the taco, put my hand on Ashley’s back and pushed. “We’re leaving now. No need to call in the guards. Minor misunderstanding. I didn’t realize banned included the food court. Scout’s honor. Have a nice day.”

Ashley giggled and I picked up the pace, forcing her to trot along beside me.

“You look like one of those smash and grab guys they show on the news.”

So much for my illusions of celebrity chic.

“You keep it up and I’ll have them ban you, too,” I whispered.

Nothing struck fear into a teenager’s heart faster than the threat of being banned from the mall. She didn’t so much as make a peep until we were in the car, and even then her only words were those necessary to guide me to the party. She didn’t even roll her eyes or sigh when I imparted what I was certain were invaluable boy-girl party tips.

Ashley assured me she’d made arrangements for David to pick her up at the end of the night, so I headed home content I’d done my good deed for the week. I felt useful, when useful was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

My only regret was tossing out the taco in my security-guard-confrontation panic. Live and learn.

o0o

When the phone rang at two o’clock in the morning, I was happily watching an old Hepburn and Tracy movie and eating a cold slice of pizza left over from the pie I’d ordered earlier.

The pizza did a slow roll in my stomach as I reached for the phone. History showed phone calls in the middle of the night rarely brought good news. This one was no different.

When I answered, Diane shrieked so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my head to keep my eardrum from exploding.

The hysteria level in her voice was higher than I’d ever heard it, and when you’ve known someone since first grade, that’s saying something.

“What’s wrong?” Fear now tapped a rapid beat in my chest.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, her voice climbing even higher still. “You drive my daughter to a boy-girl party without permission and you ask me what’s wrong.”

Without permission.

I’d kill the kid.

Then the fear hit me. “Is she all right?”

“Yes,” Diane snapped. “No thanks to you.”

“She told me you and David said it was fine. I mean, where did you think she was going when you dropped her at the mall?”

“We didn’t drop her at the mall.” Ice dripped from Diane’s words. “Apparently she walked. All part of her little master plan--which you fell for.”

I rubbed a hand across my eyes and wished my glass of water could morph into something stronger--like grain alcohol. “I’m sorry. I never thought she wasn’t telling the truth.”

“You never thought.” Diane’s exasperated exhale registered loud and clear in my brain.

I knew exactly what was coming next.

“Maybe you’d have thought differently if you actually had children, Bernie. You think you know it all, but you don’t know anything. You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother and wonder where in the hell your daughter is when she doesn’t come home.”

I drew in a deep breath, working to keep my anger and hurt at bay. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet I said nothing.

I wanted to tell her I might not know what it was like to have my child miss curfew, but I knew what it was like to hold my daughter as she took her last breath. I wanted to tell her I knew what it was like to bury my child in a casket that looked like a damned Styrofoam cooler.

I wanted to tell her a million things, but I didn’t. I let her rant and rave, but I tuned her out. I didn’t have it in me to listen.

Of all the things Diane could say, this was the worst, and she knew it.

Maybe once she calmed down I’d tell her she’d hurt me. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe once she calmed down I’d tell her she needed to start balancing out the scales in terms of how much attention she paid to her kids. At this rate, she’d be asking “Ashley who?” by the time the new arrival cut his or her first tooth.

If she thought lying about a boy-girl party and staying out half the night was the worst a thirteen-year-old could do, she’d better think back to our own teen years. Hell, I often wondered how we’d survived at all.

When Diane paused to take a breath, I repeated my apology then pushed the disconnect button. I picked up the slice of pizza I’d been eating, but suddenly the smell only made me queasy.

I turned the volume back up on Hepburn and Tracy, but even they no longer provided a warm, fuzzy escape. Instead, their banter represented everything smart, together, witty and wonderful that I wasn’t--and I didn’t need the reminder.

Diane was right.

I should have known better. Hell, I couldn’t even drive a kid to a party without knowing enough to check with her parents first.

What was wrong with me?

I clicked off the television and went upstairs, slipping Dad’s book out of my underwear drawer. I cracked open my closet and pulled out Dad’s shirt, savoring an instant sense of warmth and security as I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

Then I settled beneath the covers, determined to achieve the one thing I knew I could do.

I could solve the next puzzle.

I worked with a determination I hadn’t felt for a long while. It was almost as if I’d taken Diane’s harsh words as challenge--a challenge to prove I was good at something...this thing.

I methodically decoded the puzzle then studied the cryptogram’s solution and frowned.

Tears stung at the back of my eyelids and I drew in a slow breath. My throat had constricted to the point of choking me.

Once upon a time, I’d had big dreams--dreams of life and love and family and hope. Dreams of becoming something special. Now I had no idea what any of that meant.

When had my dreams become unimportant to me? After all, I hadn’t missed them. It was easier simply to be, easier to let life happen than it was to work for something I might have once wanted.

I stared at Dad’s printing and felt a sense of loss beyond the physical.

When I was growing up, Dad never failed to find me when I’d been scared or upset.

Here he was, finding me now, even though he was gone.

While I might not understand everything he’d thought or the quotes he’d chosen, I understood one thing. He’d loved me enough to reach out. He’d seen in me a light still flickering in the darkness, a potential not yet extinguished.

If only life were as simple as solving a cryptogram. Then I realized the two were not that different.

Only if I quit, would I fail.

I’d quit after Emma died. I’d shut down. I’d let life go on all around me.

Now that Ryan was gone and Dad was dead, I could quit again. Or, I could dust off my dreams and try.

Success might take a while. Success might take forever.

But as long as I refused to quit, I just might succeed.

o0o

“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is like a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”

-Langston Hughes