The Long Way Home (3 page)

Dylan was more put out about it than Jazzy let on. Marnie could hear his side of the conversation perfectly, and he sounded exasperated. Still, when they were done speaking, Jazzy snapped the phone shut, turned to Marnie, and said, “It’s no problem at all. He said he’d be glad to give you a ride home.”

When he arrived, fifteen minutes later, it was in a black Toyota Camry. The two women made a mad dash from Marnie’s car but still got drenched. Dylan opened the door from inside, and Jazzy motioned for Marnie to sit up front, while she got in the back. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth furiously, and the car smelled like pine air freshener. Jazzy leaned forward and made the introductions. “Marnie, this is my big brother, Dylan, the hero of the hour. Well, actually, the hero of my life.”

“Glad to meet you, Marnie,” he said, offering his hand. His tone was friendly. If he’d been annoyed before, he’d gotten past it. “Did you want me to try jump-starting your battery?”

She looked at the rain pelting the car and shook her head. “Thanks, but not in this weather. Besides, the battery is six years old. I think it needs replacing.”

“Fair enough,” he said, sounding relieved.

Marnie directed Dylan down the highway and then through side streets until they reached her duplex. It was an old building, red brick with white shutters, with colonial-style pillars flanking the front stoop. The pillars distinguished it from the other houses on the street, most of which were plain brick boxes. Marnie lived in the upper half and had use of the basement where she had her own washer and dryer. Tonight her half of the house was dark, but the lower, where her landlady, Mrs. Benner, lived, was lit up. Marnie made a mental note to keep a light on in the evenings when she was gone. This living alone took some getting used to.

“This is your house?” Jazzy said. “It’s really nice.”

“I just moved here and I’m renting,” Marnie said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll stay. I’ve been looking at condos.” The last part wasn’t technically true. Actually she’d been
thinking
about looking at condos, but then again she’d been thinking about a lot of things. Doing things was another matter altogether. The car came to a stop, and Marnie dug in her purse until she found a pen and paper. “I want to give you my number,” she said, jotting it down and handing it over to Jazzy. “I’m so grateful for your help, and I’d love to repay you somehow. Maybe I could have you over for dinner some Sunday? I love to cook and don’t get much chance lately.”

“That would be nice,” Jazzy said. “Sure. Thanks.”

After saying good-bye, Marnie dashed to the protection of the overhang, where she discovered Mrs. Benner had already locked the front door for the night. Getting her keys straightened out took a moment, and she was glad when she finally found the right one and heard the click of the lock’s release.

Although Mrs. Benner lived right below her, Marnie had never met the woman and wasn’t likely to. She’d worked out the rental agreement with Dave Benner, who cautioned her against bothering his mother. “My mother likes to keep to herself. Please respect her privacy,” he said, after showing her how the thermostat worked and explaining how to use the intercom that linked the front porch to her unit. “I can tell you now you probably won’t see her at all. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to contact her in any way. Don’t knock on her door. Don’t call. If you have any problems, you need to talk to me.” He’d made it plain that Marnie’s cooperation in this matter would make or break the rental agreement. Because she didn’t have a lease, he could give her notice at any time, and the thought of moving again didn’t sit well with her.

After their conversation, Marnie reflected on what he’d said. She wondered what Mrs. Benner’s problem was but hadn’t asked. That would have been rude. Don’t try to contact her, was what he’d said. What an odd way to put it. Marnie wasn’t planning on socializing with Mrs. Benner anyway, so it was a nonissue. She liked her privacy as well, so having a recluse live below suited her. The lower level was always quiet. Once in a while, she got a whiff of food cooking or heard the faint sounds of a cat meowing, but for the most part, it was like having the house to herself.

Tonight she remembered Dave’s instructions and carefully locked the door behind her, then checked to make sure it was secure. She paused at Mrs. Benner’s door and listened. Nothing. She knew the old lady was there, though, and to test her theory she paused partway up the stairs. Click—there it was, the sound of Mrs. Benner’s door opening a crack—checking on her, no doubt. It happened nearly every time she came or went. If she backtracked, the door quickly shut. For a woman who liked her privacy, Mrs. Benner sure was nosy.

She wondered if acknowledging the landlady’s presence violated the no-contact rule. “Good night, Mrs. Benner,” she called out softly before heading up to her place. “Sweet dreams and sleep well.”

Marnie hadn’t even had her second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. In the two months she’d lived there no one had ever rung it, so for a minute she couldn’t place the noise. By the time she figured it out and made her way to the intercom, the visitor had rung again and again.

She pressed the button to speak. “Yes?”

“Hey, Marnie, it’s me, Jazzy. From the class last night?” As if she needed reminding. Jazzy continued, speaking in a rush as if they might get cut off. “I have my brother’s car today, so if you need help, I’m here for you.”

Marnie, who’d spent half the night lying in bed worrying about her dead car, felt relief wash over her. “Really?”

“Unless you made other plans?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Marnie pressed her mouth close to the intercom and spoke loudly. “I don’t have it worked out at all. I’m so glad you came.” She told Jazzy to hang on and went downstairs to let her in. When she opened the front door she saw that Jazzy had a different look than the night before. Today her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wore a dark blue vest with a laminated name tag clipped to the front. The name was in large bold letters: JESSICA.

“Hey,” Jazzy said. “Good morning.” Her smile was infectious, and Marnie found herself smiling back.

“Good morning.” Marnie gestured to her smock. “Who’s ‘Jessica’?”

Jazzy looked down. “Oh that.” She covered it with her hand. “That’s me, sort of. My boss insists on using our given names. I like Jazzy much better, though. Please don’t call me Jessica.”

“I won’t. I like Jazzy. It suits you,” Marnie said.

Jazzy leaned against the doorframe and got down to business. “I bought a car battery and thought we could see if that was the problem. I can put it in for you, and if it works, your troubles are over. If not, we can call for a tow truck and I can just return it. If that’s okay?”

“That sounds wonderful.” What a comfort to have someone else handle things. Marnie went back upstairs to get her purse. A few minutes later, she was comfortably seated in the front seat of Jazzy’s brother’s car. Marnie had some trouble with the seat belt and Jazzy rushed in to help. “Let me get that,” she said, after Marnie had fumbled with it for a minute or so. “These darn things are so tricky.”

Sitting in this car reminded Marnie of the family cars her parents had driven when she was a kid. As the youngest of three, she’d always had to sit on the ridge in the middle of the backseat. “I call, Marnie has to sit on the hump,” her brother would crow as the three of them ran out to the car. She was the smallest, so she had no say in the matter. She didn’t remember her parents interceding to make things fair. Her brother and sister had seniority, and that’s the way it was. She got whatever they didn’t want. The leftovers.

Jazzy was a good driver, and talkative too. She said she lived with her brother, Dylan, for the time being. He’d gotten divorced the year before. It worked out well; she kicked in for the rent and used his car when he didn’t need it. They got along fine. Lately though, both she and Dylan had been thinking about moving elsewhere, going their separate ways. “I’ve reached a crossroads in life. I can’t live with my brother forever,” Jazzy said. “I know that, and yet I still find it hard to get myself to make the change.”

When they turned into the parking lot of the rec center, Marnie was relieved to see that her car was still there. She’d been afraid that it would be towed or ticketed, but there it was, just the way she left it. Jazzy pulled up so the cars were nose to nose. “I have the new battery in the trunk. If you want to pop the hood, we can get right to it.”

“You don’t think we should try jump-starting it first?” Marnie asked.

“No, you definitely need a new battery,” Jazzy said firmly.

“Okay then,” Marnie said, happy to let her take charge.

Jazzy proved to be an expert at replacing a battery. “I’m handy,” she said, when Marnie commented on her skills. She’d pulled the old battery out and set it in a cardboard box she’d brought along. “Don’t touch that,” she said, when Marnie tried to help. “That battery acid is nasty stuff. I once ruined a pair of jeans carrying a used battery on my lap. It ate right through the fabric.” After Jazzy set the new battery in place, she swiftly pulled the cables to the correct knobs. “The red cable goes to the positive terminal and the black one is negative. I always remember because it’s Red Cross and black is negative energy.” She looked up and Marnie nodded, even though she knew in ten minutes the information would fly right out of her brain. Jazzy tightened the nuts with a wrench and took a step back. “That should do it,” she said. “Start it up and see if it works.”

Marnie got into the car and held her breath as she turned the key. Not expecting it, she let out a gasp of joy when the engine came to life. Yesterday the car’s death had been a calamity, but now it seemed to be only a minor interruption in the flow of life. It struck her that the fix had been remarkably easy. Five minutes ago the car had been an immovable behemoth, and now, just by replacing a small box, it could be driven anywhere. All because one person stepped in to help. Amazing.

Jazzy pulled the hood shut and came around to Marnie’s window. “Yay for you,” she said and applauded with hands extended, as if Marnie had been the one to fix it instead of the other way around.

Marnie opened the door. “No, yay for
you
,” she said. “Between the ride home last night and the new battery today, I’m so grateful for your help.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing to me. It was…” Marnie stopped and searched for the right word. “…like you were sent from heaven. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Jazzy shrugged. “If I hadn’t come around you would have figured something out,” she said. “I have a knack for reading people, and I can tell that you’re one of those smart, capable types.”

“You think so?” Marnie asked dubiously. She didn’t feel smart or capable. In high school she’d been the nerd girl, the one with drab brown hair and awkward bangs and glasses that were too large for her face. She’d daydreamed and been socially inept. The glasses she wore now were chic, and she didn’t have bangs anymore, but most days she still felt like that girl. Lately she felt clumsy and out of sync. Like she’d been dropped into someone else’s body and couldn’t quite control the limbs.

“Absolutely.” Jazzy’s tone was assured. “When we were in the class last night and you told that bossy woman that you wanted to take a pass, I thought that was awesome. All of the rest of those ladies were like little sheep, but you weren’t playing her game.”

Marnie reflected on what Jazzy was saying. It was true that she had stood up to the very forceful Debbie, but she hadn’t thought her refusal to be a strength. More like a failure for not coming up with something to say.

“And then, when Rita came over to us and was telling me about her daughter’s death, I saw your face and you looked devastated for her. You have a lot of heart, I can tell.”

“Thank you.” A real compliment. When was the last time one had come her way? Certainly not from Brian, unless it was about her cooking. “Great meal, Marn,” he’d say nearly every night. But that was a compliment to the food, not her as a person. And looking back, she realized it was almost reflexive on his part. The equivalent of “God bless you” after a sneeze. Troy was the only one who ever really complimented her; in fact, as a little guy he’d showered her with praise almost constantly. He said she was pretty and laughed at all her jokes. He preferred her to Brian for most everything from reading books to pouring juice to being tucked in at bedtime. So flattering for a stepmother. Or pseudo-stepmother, as her sister put it, since Brian had never married her. She was good enough to be a mother to his son for nearly ten years, but it was never quite the right time to legalize their relationship. Marnie had thought she’d had some fatal flaw that kept her from becoming a wife, but now a complete stranger had recognized her positive traits. She gripped the steering wheel and swallowed to keep the lump in her throat at bay. “Thank you for saying that.”

“All true.”

“So how much do I owe you? For the battery, I mean.”

“It was just under sixty dollars. I can check the receipt to give you an exact amount.”

“No, we can make it an even sixty.” Even as Marnie reached for her purse she knew she didn’t have that much money with her. And she could visualize her checkbook on the counter, right where she’d left it. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any cash with me. If you follow me to an ATM I can pay you right away.”

Jazzy said, “I have to get to work, but don’t worry about it. It can wait until the next time I see you.”

The next time? Oh, their class! Marnie, who hadn’t really planned on going back to the Good Grief class, suddenly found she was open to the idea. She could picture herself getting ready for class next Tuesday, making sure to tuck sixty dollars in her purse for Jazzy. Maybe she’d stop at Starbucks on the way and pick up one of those drinks Leticia mentioned. What was it? A Skinny Vanilla Latte? Yes, that’s what she’d get. The thought of it made her feel good, gave her a sense of purpose. She was someone who had plans for next week. Maybe she’d even call out to Mrs. Benner as she left the house—“I’m off to my class at the rec center, Mrs. Benner. I’ll be back at nine.” As sad as she was, it had to be worse for Mrs. Benner. Poor lady, whatever she’d been through to make her a hermit had to be horrendous. Maybe if Marnie shared little bits of her life with her, it would make her feel less alone.

“Great,” Jazzy said. “Well, take care then and I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Sunday?”

“For dinner. Remember? You invited me for a home-cooked meal.”

All the cylinders in her brain clicked into place. Yes, now she knew. The thank-you dinner. But had she said Sunday? Jazzy seemed so certain. Marnie said, “Oh, of course. My mind just drew a blank for a second.”

“We’re still on, then?”

“You bet.” Marnie chuckled self-consciously. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Come around six. I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Just come on up. It’ll be great to have company.”

Before Jazzy got into her car, a question came to Marnie. She leaned out the window and called out, “Jazzy!”

Jazzy turned questioningly. “Yes?”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a cashier.” She twirled her keys around one finger. “At the Supercenter on Highway 63.”

It sounded dreadful. Marnie’s job, teaching four-year-old kindergarteners—now that was a wonderful job! The younger the kids were, the better she liked them. Little children were so energetic and curious. Even the ones who wore her out with their shenanigans had redeeming qualities. And they were a joy to look at, so fresh-faced and perfect with their flawless skin and pearly white teeth. In her opinion, everybody was beautiful when they were young. Dealing with children was a joy because there was so much potential there. Everything lay before them. But working with the general public? Standing at a cash register for hours on end? Oh my, that had to be depressing. She asked, “Do you like your job?”

Jazzy looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say I like it, but it’s what I need to be doing right now. You know how that goes.”

Marnie nodded, even though she didn’t completely understand.

“I know that my time there is limited,” Jazzy said. “Actually, I feel that I’ll be making a change soon. I have faith that when the time is right I’ll find what I’m really meant to do with my life, and it will all come together for me. For now, this is good.”