Brother/Sister (19 page)

He pulled a torn envelope out of the nook below the radio and held it face out to me and there was Dad’s name and an address in Baja del Mar, Mexico.

“Where’d you get that?” I said.

“From the checks he sends Mom,” said Will.

I studied the cut on his forehead. It looked pretty deep. I didn’t want to know where or how he got it. I didn’t want to know anything. I was all filled up with things I knew, and they just made me heavier, sadder, more heartbroken.

“Aren’t you happy?” he said. “I thought this was what you wanted. We’re going to see
Dad
! He wants to help us, just like you’ve always hoped he would!”

Happy? What I wanted
?

I had no idea at that point what I wanted. Did I even know what happy looked like anymore? But what if Dad
had
called? Everything in me yearned to believe he had, and yet how could I? I mean, obviously, Dad hadn’t called. Will was so amped up, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said we were being chased by purple elephants. But if Dad hadn’t called, why were we headed down there? If that was where we were headed.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s exciting.”

And if it was true? If we really were going to see Dad? Would he help me? Was it too much to hope for that? It was all I had to cling to at that moment.

I shut my eyes—it was just too much, trying to get my head around what was going on. I couldn’t do it. Every time I got close, my thoughts would drift to the fact that I was trapped here, that I was Will’s prisoner. I’d get a stab of panic and all the connections I’d been about to make would be erased just like that. I’d have to start all over.

Finally, I gave up. I tried to relax, to just pretend I wasn’t there, that nothing was there, that I was disappearing along with the nightmare my life had become, and when I returned, my world would be back to normal. I somehow must have succeeded in falling asleep, because the next thing I knew, it was dark out and we were speeding down Highway 5, toward L.A. Will had the music going, softly, one of those instrumental metal bands he likes so much. I can’t keep them straight, they all just sound like sci-fi music to me.

We were out in that part of central California where the land sort of sprawls out forever in all directions. Flat lines of darkness inside the night. No lights. No other cars. Nothing.

“Spooky, huh?” Will said.

“Yeah.”

“It’s like we’re the only people alive on earth.”

He was right. But to me, that was not a happy thought at all anymore.

We’d been driving
through the void, just us and the Eagle and the darkness around us for hours, and it did things to me, sent me tumbling off into an alternate space that felt more like the world I wanted to live in than Morro Bay ever had. This was a place of emptiness, a place without people and their brutal selfish intentions. Just me and Asheley, safely encased in our bubble, foraging through the wilderness. I could have stayed on that road forever.

But a man’s got to eat. And if I was going to make good on my promise to protect Ash, I had to make sure she ate too.

Sometime around eleven, we pulled into the In-N-Out on Highway 5. I would have wanted to stop off somewhere less conspicuous, but on that stretch of road, you’ve got no choice. It’s that one In-N-Out or nothing.

The place was jam-packed. After hours of nothing, here was civilization in all its grotesqueness, these creatures who seemed to have crawled up out of the desert, salamanders and snakes and roaches and field mice taking human form, bloating themselves up and filling out their jeans and Bermuda shorts and their loud tacky surf wear until they approximated the obese ugly Americans you’d expect to find stuffing their faces at a fast food joint. It’s like they’d all shown up just to get in our way.

I told Ash, “Be careful. You never know what kind of trouble these jokers might make for you.”

“I will,” she said. “Will, I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Just to be sure, I put an arm on her shoulder, walked her in like she belonged to me or something. I mean, looking at her, I had to do something. She’d changed out of that dumpy work uniform and was wearing her powder blue short-shorts—well, not that short, but short enough—and an aqua tank top that, cause she’d been sleeping in the car, was twisted all out of shape and hugging her breasts. She was ripe and adorable, her hair hanging droopy over her face like she needed someone to pull it behind her ear for her. She looked ready to be plucked. I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d see it, so . . .

Anyway, she appreciated my chivalry. She leaned into me. She nuzzled.

People stared.

Check that.
Men
stared. They ogled. They drooled. The place pulsed with their desire for her as we walked in. There was an old guy in a Harley shirt with a handlebar mustache sitting at one of the tables near the door, and he almost jumped out of his seat and rushed up to manhandle Asheley right there. And another guy, clean-cut, in chinos and a polo shirt, sitting in a booth with his teenaged son, who actually leaned in and started whispering and pointing, telling the kid,
hey, that’s what I’m talking about—that’s the kind of girl you can take for a ride.

Every single guy in the entire place. I’m telling you. The whole bunch of them deserved to be lined up and shot.

Ash was oblivious. Tired and pouty. And that just made it worse. She had no idea what was going on. She thought these guys were all there just to chow down on burgers.

Even the bozos working the line were all over her, shooting each other these knowing looks, cracking dirty-minded smiles back and forth, trying to keep themselves from laughing. I swear, I almost leapt over the counter and popped them one.

I mean, what does it take to keep somebody safe? Can a girl not even walk into a fast food restaurant without everybody wanting to rape her?

The whole thing got me so mad I wasn’t hungry anymore. I just wanted to beat the shit out of those fuckers.

It wasn’t irrational. No way. You’ve seen her. You’ve met her. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her charms.

See, I can tell just from the smirk on your face that you understand what I’m talking about here, and . . .

You know what? Let me see her. What have you done to her? I swear to God, if I find out you’ve done something to her, I’ll rip this whole fucking place apart! What happened to our deal?! I thought we had a deal?!

Trust you. Right. I can’t trust anyone when it comes to Asheley. But you’re right about that. I don’t have any choice.

Absolutely everything
was setting him off. He couldn’t keep still, kept glancing every which way to see who was staring at us and what they wanted, like he thought the whole world was going to gang rush us, pile on top of us and sink us to the ground, then pull out their knives and cut us to pieces.

It was like he’d lost his ability to differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t. Everywhere he turned, he saw another villain itching to snatch me up as soon as he let his guard down.

And the thing is, I mean, really? Nobody was staring. We were at a fast food joint, just like any other fast food joint in the whole world. The bored kids working the cash registers and making the burgers. The tired parents with their whiney kids. Old people. Lonely old guys sitting like ghosts in the corners. They could have cared less who we were and what we were up to. They all just wanted to get where they were going.

Try explaining that to him, though. It was almost impossible. The only way I could keep him from hyperventilating, from leaping over the booth and throwing punches, was to physically hold him still, like to place my hands over top of his and squeeze, to draw all that manic rage through them into me.

I said to him, “Will, Will, look at me. Don’t look at these other people. They’re nobody. They don’t matter. All that matters is me. You and me. That’s it. We’re together, right Will? Remember? And as long as we’re together, nobody can touch us. Wonder Twins, remember? Will, remember?”

And I kept his eyes locked in mine and pressed my hands into his until they stopped shaking.

“Okay, Will?” I said. “We’re going to be fine. You’re going to keep me safe until we get to Dad’s house and then we’ll be free. We’ll start our lives all over.”

What I saw in his face wasn’t so much rage and hatred but fear. A deep fear beyond anything I’d ever seen in him before. It was like we were in the eye of a hurricane, and as long as I held him here, we’d be safe from harm, but if I let him stray, if I let him look outward toward the people outside our booth, he might swoop into a defensive swirl of activity, swinging and slashing, causing random destruction. It was my job to remain calm, and even though this was tough to do under the circumstances, I managed to get his breathing to slow down, to get him to eat his burger and reel himself back in, and somehow leave the restaurant and get back on the road.

It made me sad, really. So, so sad.

As we headed back onto the highway and continued racing south through the dark night, I wondered, where would he be, what would his life be like without me? Cause nobody, not one single person in the world, was able to reach him and rein him in except me.

How much worse would the things he’d done be if I weren’t there?

I wondered, what would it take to fix him? Was it even possible?

I wished more than anything that he could one day somehow find some peace in his life. I still do. Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I still do. Somewhere deep, deep inside him is a kind, sensitive person, and that’s the Will I still see when I think of him. It’s just, that Will’s been so buried underneath this other one, who—it’s like all the hurt in his life has made him into someone who only knows how to smash back at the world now.

There were no answers to these questions. They just made me sadder.

Meanwhile, I had to be as strong as I possibly could. Whether I was up to the task or not. I had to be steady, compassionate.

Get us to Mexico. Get us to Dad’s house. That’s what mattered.

Dad.

Another one of the memories I have of him came floating back to me as we rode southward. He used to throw me up above his head, probably not too high, just a few inches or so, but it felt a lot higher, like he was throwing me way, way up there. And the thing I remember most about him doing this is the feeling of flying way up there in the sky. I’d flap my arms. I’d feel like I was soaring. And then my stomach would leap as I headed back down. I used to beg him to do it. I couldn’t get enough of it. Something about him raising me over his head, letting go, and then, most importantly, catching me again, it made me feel like, no matter how out of control my life got, he’d always be waiting down there to break my fall.

He loved us. And he’d help us. I knew he would. He’d been trying for years, in his way. I was sure of it. That’s what kept me going through that ride down. Dad loved us and he’d know what to do to protect us.

We crossed the border
around dawn the next morning. No problems. Or no problems with being searched or any of that. The guards gave us their usual power trip, throwing their condescending, suspicious smirks around, ogling Asheley as though they had any idea what kind of person she was, quizzing us on every last detail of where we’d come from and why we were so far from home. How old are you? Do your parents know where you are? What’s up with the Deadhead sticker on your car? All that crap.

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you very much. We’re headed to Baja del Mar to see our dad.”

“Baja del Mar. That’s ritzy. What’s your dad do?”

Asheley sat there smiling and looking cute. She let me do the talking, which was good. I can only imagine the trouble they’d have given her if she’d opened herself up to their teasing and flirting. They were already spending way too much time staring at her breasts and licking their lips. Like she was a piece of chicken or something.

“He’s an architect. He’s expecting us.” As I held the envelope with Dad’s address up for them to see, I gave them my best Obi-Wan Kenobi, a heavy, calm confidence, willing them toward the conclusion that we didn’t have any droids on us.

It must have worked, because they waved us past and we were suddenly in Mexico. God that felt good. Like a whole new life had opened up to us, like the people we’d been had been left behind and now we could become anyone we wanted to be. It was thrilling.

Patting Asheley’s knee, I said. “Here we go. Into the great unknown. You ready?”

She nodded. “You think he’ll look like we remember him?” she asked.

“Who? Dad? A little grayer. A little tanner, probably, I guess. Who cares? We’re in Mexico. Me-ki-ko!”

Wrong tactic. She sort of shrunk into herself at that. “I care, Will,” she said. “I mean . . . You think he’ll recognize us? Or we’ll recognize him? It’s . . . I’m nervous.”

“Well, he called,” I said. “He must want to see us. He said so explicitly. It’s going to be awkward for the first little while, but then, you know? We’ll catch him up on the people we’ve turned into and, you know? It’ll be fine. We’ll all be together. Really, Ash. Believe me.” I felt terrible, lying to her like that, but not as bad as I felt seeing her face prune with worry and fear. “Regardless, we’re in Mexico now! We’re on an adventure! Let’s get into the spirit!”

She raised her hands above her head and shook them around. She let loose a feeble “Yay!”

“All right, then,” I said. “I’m driving. You’re on navigation. You got the map?”

“Yes, master.”

“Okay, then, away we go!”

It took us most of the day to get to Baja del Mar.

First we spent forever getting around the crush of traffic in Tijuana, all these rusty clunkers—that’s what the Mexicans drove—and SUVs with American plates, full of young guys cruising for a nasty good time—all of them driving every which way, like they had no idea what the lines on the road were for, like the street lights weren’t even there. That and the pedestrians—women in too-tight dresses and men wearing their shirts unbuttoned halfway to the waist, squinting out at the world from under their cowboy hats.