Speed of Life (28 page)

If Mom's shocked that I called Nat my daughter, she doesn't show it. When I finally do look up at her, she's standing there, nodding her head. “You know, Crystal, I might be a crappy mother, but in my heart, I knew I did okay with you girls.”

“You're not a crappy mom.”

“Yeah, well . . . I was young when I had you two. I did the best I could.”

“We're all gonna be fine.”

“I think you're right.” She takes a step down the hall. “I'm going to bed.”

“Oh, wait. I have something for you.” I find my jeans that I left crumpled on the floor last night and dig the receipt from the slot machine out of one of the pockets. “Your winnings.”

“From what?”

“They wouldn't let me cash out, but I played ten bucks for you in Reno before they noticed I was underage.”

She examines the paper. “Excellent! You're charmed. You should go to bingo with me sometime.”

“I'll pass. I have this for you too.” I get her Reno T-shirt from the white plastic bag and hand it over. She takes it, reads it, and laughs. “You can wear it to bed.”

“You betcha. Thanks.” She trundles off down the hallway.

Nat wiggles around in my arms. “Bababababa!”

“Are you hungry, little girl? You want to eat?”

“Yes!”

That's new too. Normally all she says is no. We go to the kitchen, and I give her a bottle and pour some cereal for myself. I'm one hundred percent positive Nat has grown bigger since I saw her last. She definitely weighs more. After giving her a bath, I consider putting her in the Reno shirt, but I decide maybe I'll wait until after I've talked to Amber about Han. I don't want her to freak out.

Around noon, Gil comes stumbling out of the bedroom, his eyes bloodshot and what's left of his hair sticking out at all angles.

“Heard you were back.”

“Yep.”

“Good to see you.”

“Thanks.”

He tells me it's been three days since the flea bomb, so we can move back into our room anytime. I open the garage door to let in some air while I shift our crap. I have to keep Natalie in her swing, but I put it in the shade of the world's scraggliest plum tree in the yard. I swear, it makes Charlie Brown's Christmas tree look awesome. Nat's okay there for a while, but pretty soon she wants out, and when I don't get her right away, she screams at me. The thing is, she can crawl so fast, even Bonehead can't keep track of her anymore unless I let him off his chain, and then I'd have the two of them to chase.

“Okay, okay,” I tell her, abandoning the bed I was trying to drag back into place. She sticks her arms straight up in the air and breaks into a big smile, making my heart go all warm and gooey. I set her on Amber's bed, which is against the back wall, and she plays with her toes for a while, gurgling and babbling. It doesn't last, though, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her scooting toward the edge of the bed.

“Okay, big girl. Let's you and me get out of here. It's time to pick up Auntie Amber anyway.” Auntie Amber. That sounds so weird. But I'm determined to do this right. Nat's not going to grow up confused about who's who, like we're embarrassed to acknowledge her or something.

Natalie squirms the whole time I strap her into the car seat, but I know she'll be happy once we get to the park, so I try to ignore her squeals of protest. I run inside the house, leaving the car doors open and Bonehead on duty, and quick as I can, throw some snacks together for her. There's pizza on the table, but I'm not
that
hungry. I'll have to share Nat's Cheerios.

Bonehead almost loses his mind when I unhook his chain and let him into the back seat. I hear Nat shriek as I go around to the driver's side, and when I look in the back, Bonehead's licking the piece of banana I gave her. I take it away from her and give it to the dog, and then I make him get in the front seat with me. She's screaming now, mad at both of us, and I grab a handful of fish crackers and put them on the tray of her car seat. She immediately stops yelling and stuffs them in her mouth with both hands.

Amber's waiting outside the Glass Slipper.

“Get in the back,” she tells Bonehead, pushing him until he climbs over the seat.

“Is the park okay?” I ask.

“Whatever.”

There's a fenced area for dogs where we can let Bonehead run. He's not fixed, though, so if there are any other dogs, we'll have to keep him on the leash, because he either fights them or humps them. None of the other owners like this very much, but the dogs don't seem to mind.

“It's your lucky day,” I tell him when we get to the park and no one's around. Once we're inside the fence, I let him loose and he goes absolutely crazy. He jumps, runs, barks, back and forth, back and forth. I don't even need to throw a ball to keep him busy. He's so excited it's contagious, and all three of us laugh. Me and Amber each hold one of Nat's hands while she toddles around, giggling and screaming happily.

As we walk, I tell Amber that Han flew down and drove back home with me.

“He did? How come?”

“I kind of freaked out. Being away from Natalie . . . and what you said . . . calling me her mother. I was driving like a crazy person, like I could outrun the truth.” I explain how I wanted to fly.

And when I tell her how much my speeding ticket is, she hits me in the shoulder. “Crystal!”

“I know, I know. I can't even think about what it's going to do to my insurance.” Then I tell her about sleeping in the cactus room and the chile rellenos and how I called Han because we had to talk about Natalie.

“Really?” Amber drops Natalie's hand and stands there, staring at me. “You talked about that?”

“We had to.”

“About friggin' time.”

“You knew it was him, right?”

“Well, I figured,” she says. “I mean, who else could it have been? It's not like you were going around having sex with a bunch of strangers.”

I cringe at the word “sex.” I've let myself remember the who and the when, but I'm still blocking the details.

“Doggy! Doggy!” Nat screams, and Bonehead runs over, licks her face, and knocks her over.

Amber sets Natalie back on her feet and I push the dog away. “Go. Run. Get out of here or we're going home.” Bonehead takes off, covering ground in leaps and bounds. “I want you to know,” I tell Amber, “I wasn't faking it. I really didn't know Han was the one until the other night when I kind of lost it and everything came back to me.”

“I never thought you were lying. I could tell you didn't remember. But don't you think it's weird you didn't know all this time?”

“Yeah, I guess, but it's also like . . . the thing is . . . as soon as I forced myself to try to remember, I did. But before that, I refused to go there.”

“You blocked it,” Amber says. “It's PTSD. Like when a girl gets raped.”

“Han didn't rape me!”

“Duh,” she says. “Chill. I know. I just meant that people can block stuff out if they want to forget.”

“I'm pretty sure that's what happened.” I can't even admit all of it to Amber, though. While I was never afraid I'd been raped, I
was
terrified that maybe I'd slept with one of my tormentors, just to prove them wrong. How sad would that have been? If one of those assholes was Natalie's dad, I think I'd want to kill myself.

Nat's face is turning a little pink, so we lead her over to some shade. “You should go on one of those talk shows,” Amber says.

I laugh. “Forget it. I can barely even admit the truth to you.”

The three of us sit down on a patch of dry grass. “I could pretend to be you,” Amber offers.

Natalie climbs into my lap and leans against me. “Can we change the subject now?” I try to think of something that doesn't make my stomach churn. “So what's new with you?”

“Aunt Ruby made me the assistant manager.”

“Wow. Already? Cool.”

“Yeah. I'm really excited. I have a lot of ideas.”

She tells me about her plans for the tavern for a while, but ever since I picked her up, we've been talking around me going to college and we both know it. Now it's time to tell her I'm gonna do it, and Natalie's going with me. I wait until there's a pause in the conversation, and then I take a deep breath, which does absolutely nothing to eliminate the queasiness in my stomach. “You know when we were having that big fight in the driveway? Before I ran off?” I ask.

“What fight?” Amber says, all innocent, and for a second I'm confused, but then she laughs. “Oh, you mean that all-out screamfest we had the other day where we shoved things in and out of the car, including our baby. That fight?”

I nudge her shoulder with mine. “Yeah . . . that one.”

“What about it?”

“Well, you said something . . . You said that if I really wanted to go to college, I'd do what everyone else does and find a daycare, not ask you to give up your life.”

“Oh, that.”

I smile at her. “So . . . you're right.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. And that's what I'm gonna do. Me and Nat are going to Kansas. And Han's going to help me find someplace for her to go when I'm in class and working.”

Amber puts her arm around my shoulder. “I think that's great,” she says. “I know I never told you, but I'm really proud of you for getting into college.”

“You are?”

“Of course. My sister, the college graduate. I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, well . . . it'll be a while.” Natalie's fallen asleep in my lap, and I stroke her sweaty hair. “God, I love this kid. I have no idea what I was thinking when I took off like that.”

“I knew you'd be back,” Amber says.

“I'm glad one of us has faith in me.”

“I have enough for both of us, Crys. We'll all be okay.”

We sit there in the shade, our little threesome of a family. Things are changing, but I think Amber's right. We're gonna be okay.

On Saturday morning I bundle Nat into the car. We're going to a car show in Banks, Oregon. Amber has to work, but she made sure I knew she'd be giving it a miss even if she had the day off. “You're never gonna get me interested in cars, Crys,” she said. “But have fun.”

Bonehead practically yanks his stake right out of the ground—​he's dying to go along. He looked so happy at the park the other day that me and Amber decided he needs a new home, one where he can run around. We asked Han for help, and in two hours flat, he found a woman who lives out in the country and takes rescue dogs. She said she'd be happy to have Bonehead if we got him neutered first. After I take him to the vet on Monday to get snipped, he'll probably never want to get into the Mustang again. Today, I decide to let him have his own “last.”

As soon as I let Bonehead off the chain, he lurches toward the car and I have to grab his collar and yell at him to calm down. I make him sit before I let him inside the Mustang so he doesn't trample Natalie in his excitement. When I finally open the door and push back the seat, he hurtles himself into the back and starts licking something off her face, making her laugh.

At the show, I pay my registration fee and find my spot, and then I get Nat out of her car seat and into the fancy stroller. I wheel her onto the grass about ten feet behind the Mustang and tell her I'll be just a minute.

“No,” she says. “No, no, no!”

“Don't worry. You can still see me.” I tousle her strawberry curls and head back to the car.

“No!”

“I'm right here,” I tell her while I do all the stuff you do at a show, which is kind of like a cruise-in except there are hundreds of cars here, plus judges and trophies. Mostly it's the same guys and cars I see everywhere, but it's still fun. I take all the junk out of the inside of the car and pile it by Natalie.

“See? I didn't go anywhere.”

“Up!”

“In a sec.” I prop open the hood and trunk and run a chamois over the chrome. I keep the car pristine, but you always do the basics anyway.

A couple of hot rodders are walking by, and Stick notices the Mustang and comes over. “I thought we seen the last of you.”

“Almost. False start. But I'm leaving soon.”

“Good thing or we'd want our money back,” he says, giving me a big wink.

“No chance of that.”

He wanders off and I get Bonehead out of the car. I've got the choke chain on him—​it's the only way to keep him under control—​but he still drags me behind him. When we get back to the stroller, I stake the dog to the ground. Two car widows are cooing over Nat and she's smiling up at them.

“Who's this?” one of the women asks me.

“That's my daughter, Natalie.”

I hear a funny noise behind me, like a gasp, and when I turn around, David's standing there, his face full of surprise. “Your
daughter?
”

I want to be brave enough to look him straight in the eye, but instead I bend over Bonehead and scratch his ears. “Yep. My daughter.” The words still feel weird in my throat, like I'm choking on a hazelnut in one of those coffeecakes Mom brings home from work. But they feel good, too. I'm proud of Nat.

“But . . . all this time I thought she was your sister's kid.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

The two women give each other raised-eyebrow looks and wander off.

David's staring at me. “That's so weird. Why did I think that?”

I want to say it was his mistake, but I can't do that anymore. “I kind of let you think she was Amber's.”

“Okay. Now I don't feel so stupid. But why?”

I take a breath and let it out with a little self-conscious laugh. “Because I was ashamed of being dumb enough to get knocked up. Can we leave it at that?”