My Lost and Found Life (8 page)

That's when she slapped me. My mouse of a mother slapped me. I stared at her, both shocked and furious, then spat out the words, “Fuck you!”

Then, before I could say another word, she burst into tears. She was shaking uncontrollably.

But I was too wound up to stop now. With my eyes blazing, I spat out the words I knew would hurt her the most. “Don't expect me to feel sorry for you. You're a loser just like that drunk you called my father. The minute I can, I'm moving away and never coming back. You'll never see me again.”

My mother staggered as if I had stabbed her. Her greatest fear always was being alone again, the way she had been when my grandparents died.

“I can't stand it here. I'm leaving,” I said, and ran out the front door into the pelting rain.

She followed me like a crazy woman, oblivious to the fact that she was wearing only a thin nightgown. Behind me I heard her say, “It's never enough for you. No matter what I do, it's never enough.”

As I backed my car out of the driveway, I saw her standing on the lawn, soaked to the skin and sobbing.

I drove around for an hour or so, until I calmed down. Then I came home. By this time I felt guilty about what I said, yet I was too stubborn to apologize. When I walked down the hall toward my bedroom, I saw the door to her room was closed. So I walked straight past it and crawled into bed.

• • •

The rain stopped and my sore jaw went away, but my bleak mood continued. Tattie called and wanted me to go out with her. I told her I was sick. Truthfully, I was sick, sick at heart. I couldn't stop thinking about the argument with my mother and hating myself for driving her away. She had deserted me because I was a horrible, evil person. I knew that now—maybe I had known it all along. I couldn't pretend or lie to myself anymore. My head and heart hurt so much that I couldn't move off my bed.

As the daylight vanished and night began, I lay awake remembering and reliving all the times I had treated my mother badly. When I finally closed my eyes, sleep didn't bring me any relief. I dreamed my mother was chasing me in her nightgown in the rain, only in my dream we were both running down a highway. Out of the darkness a big truck with blazing headlights bore down on her and struck her with a loud thump. I yelled, “Momma!” and ran back toward her. But after the truck roared past me, I saw only a dark and empty roadway. She was gone.

The ringing kept bouncing around in my brain until I finally realized it wasn't a dream. Someone was ringing the doorbell. I pulled myself out of bed, stumbled through the house, and opened the front door.

Facing me was a young Asian guy wearing sweats and a Giants baseball cap on backward.

“Ashley Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” I yawned.

“You've been served.” He thrust a folded piece of paper into my hand and departed, leaving me staring after him in confusion.

I opened the envelope and discovered it was a legal document that didn't make any sense to me. But one thing was clear: this wasn't a good omen.

• • •

Weeks had passed since my mother went missing. I had done absolutely nothing except wait, since, to be honest, I didn't
know what else to do. I did stay away from Ecstasy. No way did I want to relive the quarrel with my mother again. Instead, I occupied myself by sleeping late, followed by surfing the Net or watching TV. In between, I would read, paint my nails, and talk on the phone. At night I went out dancing with Tattie to some club or other.

When the senior-trip gang had returned from their seven fun-filled days in Hawaii, I told Nicole all about losing my virginity with Webb. She was shocked. Nic wasn't very experienced with guys—her romantic nature always got in the way. She'd get a crush on someone for a while, but then go off him pretty fast when he got into a farting contest or got drunk and urinated on the lawn or some other stupid guy trick. I don't think they can help themselves; guys are just naturally gross. Poor Nicole, she actually believed her soulmate was out there somewhere and she'd find him someday. Till then, she refused to bend her standards or do the deed. For her sake, I hoped she'd find Mr. Perfect. I had no such illusions about the opposite sex.

Nicole found it hard to believe I'd done “it” just like that.

“It sounds so cold-blooded,” she protested. “You don't even love him. Do you?”

“Don't be silly. I just wanted to get it out of the way, and you must admit he's hot. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What if he tells someone and it gets around?” Nicole was so sweet, the way she worried about me.

“So what?” I gave her a sly smile. “I hope it does get around. I hope it gets all the way around to Scott. He missed out and I chose Webb. I hope that annoys the hell out of him.”

• • •

Whether Scott ever found out or not, I had no way of knowing. I didn't see Webb again either. Eventually Tattie let it drop that Webb had a job working construction in the East Bay, and he was going to boot camp in September.

I had no idea what I would be doing in the fall or even tomorrow. Without my mother, there wasn't going to be any freshman year at Boston University or anywhere else. Unfortunately, my mother had not reappeared, except in my fitful dreams.

While I should have looked for a job, I didn't know how to go about it. If someone had offered me one, I would have taken it. But I just couldn't walk up to some counter and ask to be hired—what if they turned me down and everyone laughed? I'd die of humiliation.

Selling clothes to Couture Closet was the main source of my funds, and the pittance I received disappeared fast. It's a good thing I'm not a big eater and fast food is cheap. Still, I had to buy shampoo, tampons, cat food, and so on. I canceled the cleaning lady and the garden service but just tossed the rest of the bills on the dining room table.

Then the phone calls started—first, little reminders that our Visa bill or water bill was overdue, and then more strident requests for payment. I let the answering machine get them.

Police cars still drove past our house, but Strobel and his cohort didn't bother me anymore. They, too, seemed to be waiting for my mother to return. I couldn't imagine that she wouldn't, no matter how angry she was with me or what she had done. I tried to picture her as a fugitive—sunning herself on some
Mexican beach, sipping margaritas and forgetting all about her bitchy, selfish daughter. But I couldn't imagine it—that wasn't my mother. She loved me and she would come back.

Bad things are supposed to come in threes. My cell phone was number one. Service was shut off for nonpayment. Before I had recovered from that blow, my gas card wouldn't work at the pump.

“Look, there must be something wrong with your machine,” I insisted to Reynaldo.

“Okay,” Reynaldo shrugged. “I'll go call.” He walked into the office and I could see him talking into the receiver while I waited by the pumps. He hung up and walked over to Phil's camper, which is always parked behind the station, except when Phil is off on one of his nature trips. He called inside and Phil emerged, carrying what looked like a fishing rod. They talked for a moment and then Reynaldo returned.

“They won't accept your card, Ash-lee,” he said. “Phil told me to fill your tank anyway. It's on him.”

I nodded stiffly and got back into my car. I knew I should thank Phil, but I was too embarrassed.

• • •

Being served, whatever that meant, was the third bad thing. I sat on the sofa a long time, stroking Stella's soft orange fur and talking to her about the situation. Unfortunately, “meow” was the only comment Stella made, and I didn't find it all that helpful. I was worried and needed to talk to someone, fast—someone who could help me figure this out.

As much as I didn't want to call her, Gloria seemed like the logical choice. She was smart, she was my mother's best friend, and she understood all the financial mysteries I didn't. My pride pinched me, but I didn't have any choice. I steeled myself and dialed her number.

Her voice was cool but she didn't hang up on me.

“Oh, Ashley. Any news? I left a message on your machine last week.”

I knew she had. I had erased it without calling her back.

“The thing is,” Gloria continued, “both Daniel and Matthew have been down with chicken pox, and it's just been one thing after another.”

I politely murmured, “Oh, poor kids.”

I doubt I fooled her with my feeble show of concern.

“They're feeling better,” Gloria replied just as politely. “What are the police saying these days? Do they know anything more?”

“They're not exactly confiding in me, but I don't think they have any idea where my mother is. They haven't been back since they carried off some stuff.”

“What did they take?” she asked.

“Papers, boxes of them. They seemed disappointed not to find a horde of cash stashed under the rug.”

“Hmmm,” she said, and then she abruptly switched gears. “Now, what can I do to help you?”

I was pathetically grateful for her sympathetic tone. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

“Well, I hate to ask but I do have a big problem. Someone
came here this morning and gave me some sort of legal paper. Served me, he said. I don't know what it's all about or what I'm supposed to do,” I said, my voice trailing off.

“Served you?” she said sharply. “That doesn't sound good. I guess I better come over and have a look.”

“I would be so grateful if you could do that,” I said in my most earnest, good-girl voice.

“I'll be over tonight around eight-thirty, after I've put the kids to bed,” she answered.

It was almost nine-thirty before Gloria showed up, but I was in no position to complain. Nor did I make any comment about the purple pantsuit she was wearing. Gloria had a passion for the color purple that was way over the top. I myself wore mostly neutrals—black, white, or beige plus my favorite, red, to shake things up.

“Thanks for coming,” I said with my new mature attitude. “Would you like coffee?”

“No, thanks,” she answered. “The house looks good. You surprise me, Ashley.”

She walked over to the dining room table and pointed to the now gargantuan pile of mail. “What's all this?”

“The mail. I'm saving it for my mother,” I said.

She picked up an ominous-looking envelope with a bold FINAL NOTICE printed on it. “Good God, Ashley, how can you just ignore these? Look at all of them. Visa, the gas company, the phone company—you should be paying these.”

“With what?” I screeched, and then added more calmly, “Where would I get the money to pay them?”

“What about the money in your mother's checking account?”

“There isn't any left,” I said. “I tried to use my ATM card last week, but it said ‘insufficient funds.'”

“Well, ignoring these isn't going to make them go away. I'm surprised they haven't cut off your power yet or sent bill collectors to knock on your door.”

“They stopped my cell phone service,” I admitted.

“I guess somebody better take a look at these before you end up sitting here in the dark,” she said. “Get me a bag.”

She stuffed all the bills into a plastic grocery bag and then sat down. “All right, now let's see those papers that were served on you.”

I handed her the envelope. Gloria put on her reading glasses and unfolded the papers. I watched anxiously as she read.

Finally, she looked up. “This is not good. It looks as if your mother's employer has put a lien on this house.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

“I'm not sure. Nothing good.” She thought for a minute and then stood up. “I'm going to have to find out more about this. Can I take this with me?”

I nodded.

“I'll let you know what I find out,” she said, walking over to the door. “But you better prepare yourself. You'll probably have to find a new place to live.”

“
What!
Where would I go? How will I live?” I was aghast.

“You get a job, like everyone else on the planet,” Gloria said with visible satisfaction. “Your mother didn't do you any favors, treating you like a protected little princess, and I told her so, many times. You need to find a job and an apartment and learn to take care of yourself.”

“A job! What do I know how to do? Drive a bus? Work at the drive-up window at McDonald's? I was going to go to college and have a career. This isn't fair. None of my friends have to serve tacos at Taco Bell. No, please don't say it. I guess I'm supposed to remember the starving children in Africa and how lucky I am in comparison.”

“No, I'm not going to tell you anything because you're going to find out all by yourself.”

Gloria called two days later and asked me to come over after her kids were in bed.

“You better sit down, Ashley,” Gloria said. Her face looked ready to announce bad news.

“Is it that bad? Should I take a Valium first?” I wisecracked. I made my way through the obstacle course of Legos and other toys scattered on the carpet and flopped down on her recliner.

“It's not good,” she said. She seated herself on the sofa, an arsenal of papers arranged on the coffee table in front of her. Carefully placing her pen on the table next to the papers, she gazed up at me with the look of a teacher about to begin her lesson plan.

“I did a lot of research on embezzlement on the Web,” Gloria began. “I've acquired quite an education on the subject. This sort of white-collar crime is amazingly common, and often only a portion of the money is ever recovered. Most embezzlers go to prison, but others get off with just probation. Sometimes
companies don't even press charges because they don't want the word to get out about how stupid and gullible they were.”