The Melting Season (23 page)

“And you will still be beautiful,” I said.

Valka waved me off with her hand. “Please. I’ll just be happy if I’m still alive. Anyway, one day I was in the office for a checkup on my boob job, and it was packed in there. It was right before Thanksgiving.
Packed.
Everyone wanted new lips for the holidays. And of course there’s Rio DeCarlo swooping in the door, moaning about how she had to do a screen test, an actress of her experience and stature, wasn’t it shocking, blah blah blah, and she had to have a little touch-up for the next day or she didn’t know what she was going to do. So the receptionist told her to have a seat, and there was only one seat left, next to me. Cathy, she sat down, and she stank, she stank to high heaven of booze. Booze and Chanel. I have to hand it to her, it ain’t easy being cheap and expensive at the same time. And of course she got to see the doctor before everyone else. Although—now that I think about it . . .” Valka scratched her jaw. “I wonder if that’s why they always let her cut in line, that they just wanted to get her out of there because . . . because she was so wasted and obnoxious.”

“Nobody likes a drunk,” I said.

“After my appointment I went to the parking garage to leave and who should I see sitting in her car but the old French whore herself, Rio DeCarlo. Just sitting there. Not starting the car, not moving, not nothing. Just sitting in her seat, her hands holding on to that steering wheel so tight I swear her knuckles were going to tear right through her skin. Staring straight forward, with these enormous sunglasses covering half her head, and this creepy grin. She looked like the Joker in a deck of cards. And every part of her was frozen, her lips, her cheeks, her hands, her body. She was like a creature from beyond.” Valka wiggled her fingers at me and made a ghost noise, and I laughed at her. “I just got the hell out of there and ran to my car. I burned rubber getting down to the exit. And when I was paying my ticket, just when I thought I had escaped, there was Rio DeCarlo, pulling up behind me. I tell you, I never hauled ass so fast through the streets of Los Angeles as I did that day.”

“So she’s a terrible person,” I said.

“No, she’s just a drunk,” she said. “Everyone has their vice.”

I thought about the
click-clack
of Valka’s pill bottles in her purse.

“That’s why I don’t tell other people’s stories that aren’t mine to tell,” she said. “But the cat’s already out of the bag with this one.”

I was so depressed. I wanted to believe in Rio.

“Don’t look so sad, kid,” she said.

“It is just that I have always enjoyed her,” I said. “I would like her to be as brave as she is in the movies.” I felt my chest clutch as I said this.

“She’s not bad, she’s just damaged,” said Valka. “Everyone’s a little damaged, honey.”

We drove in silence for a while, quietly counting up our own damages. Up ahead the clouds closed in again, and soon we had driven into snow. I had been hoping for an easy return to my hometown but it was just as I had left it. Snow piled up high, snow coming down from the sky, rough roads, rough driving, a freezing, lonely Nebraska winter.

“Where do we go?” said Valka. “Where do we start?”

“We start with the best burger in the state,” I said. And I steered us toward the diner.

W
e got off the expressway and pulled onto the frontage road that bordered my hometown. Everything felt different already, like it had been years since I had been there, and not just a handful of days. The houses seemed smaller than I remembered, and they appeared empty from the outside. All of the curtains were closed, the lights were out, and there were stacks of newspapers on front porches wherever I looked. And there were no cars on the road, and the streets had barely been cleared. I drove slowly, and tried not to swerve, but my heart was beating a deep, deep thrum. There had been a snowstorm, and that accounted for a lot. The townsfolk went sleepy during those times. But I could not help but think that the whole town had disappeared right along with me. No one was waiting for me to come back. Maybe I had forfeited my right to ever see these people again. All because I left town.

“Ghost town,” said Valka.

“Snowstorm,” I said. “They’re probably all sleeping right through it. There’s nothing to do but hide inside right about now.”

At last a car passed us, a sheriff ’s car, from two towns over. I let out a big gasp of air from my lungs. I did not know I had been holding anything in. I had forgotten to breathe for a minute, I guess. It took me another minute to realize: I was scared out of my mind. I pulled the car over to rest in a snowbank.

“Sweet Jesus, I am freaking out,” I said.

“Drive,” said Valka.

“I do not think I can do it,” I said.

“We didn’t drag our asses all the way from Las Vegas so that you could lose your nerve now, right here in your hometown. Keep going. That burger sounded good and I’m hungry now. My doctor says I should eat more red meat anyway. I’m iron-deficient.” She paused and looked thoughtful for a minute. “On top of everything else.”

Just even the tiniest reminder of everything Valka had been through pushed me to keep going. That woman was going to be able to get me to do anything she wanted for the rest of our lives together.

I steered back onto the road and headed toward the diner. A dirty farm dog hustled over snowbanks. Down near the McDonald’s, the one next to the bowling alley, the stoplight at the intersection was blinking like crazy. No one would know whether to stop or go. If anyone was out there.

Finally we got to the diner, which was empty out front except for a big rig parked crookedly, like a snake that could not decide which way he wanted to slide next. Inside the diner was the rig’s driver, and Timber, who was wiping up the counter. I could not see Papi, who was probably cleaning something in the back. I opened the door and a cluster of bells attached to the inside handle jangled. The driver looked up and gave me a glance and then took a long look at Valka. He did not break his stare even as we passed him. Timber looked up, too, and he opened his mouth and let it hang there like a dog panting for water.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said finally. He came out from behind the counter. He reached his arms out toward me and I reached out toward him and then we were sunk in each other’s arms. “I am so happy to see you’re alive. And not in jail somewhere.” He pulled away from me and gave me a girlish little slap on my shoulder. He had done it to me a million times but I had never noticed how silly his slaps were before. “And what the hell, Moonie? What is going on with you?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled. It was nice to see him but I did not want this kind of attention.

Valka, however, did not mind one bit. “I know, she’s a regular Calamity Jane, huh? Our crazy cowgirl.” Valka and Timber introduced themselves and they immediately got along. I was not surprised. Valka was the most interesting thing that had stepped foot into our town since Miss Nebraska had cut the ribbon on the new car dealership on South Lincoln two years back. They both started talking very loudly and I slid into a booth and let them gab away. Best friends forever, like how my classmates used to sign notes they passed to each other in class. Not that I had ever had one until now, and here Timber was trying to steal her in front of my eyes. But I knew she was mine.

“Los Angeles,” I heard Timber say. “I’ve never made it that far west before, but we are
dying
to go there on vacation. I heard there are amazing flea markets there.”

Flea markets? The world felt all lopsided. Valka handed him her card.

I looked down at the booth and stared at the glittery swirls embedded in the table and I imagined myself inside one of those sparkles. That I had shrunk down to the size of nothing, a fraction of my former self, and could just disappear forever.

Valka ordered some food and Timber ran behind the counter. I could smell the meat as soon as it hit the grill, and the gentle sizzle comforted me. Valka slid into the booth with me.

“Okay, how did you not know he was gay? That man is as queer as they come.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Nobody is ever gay around here.”

Valka craned her head around the diner. “This place is so charming,” she said. “I just want to take it home with me and plant it in Santa Monica and have Timber make me lunch every day for the rest of my life.” Her phone rang—a ringtone of “Let It Be”—and she pulled it out of her bag. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows even higher. “It’s Paul McCartney,” she mouthed, and then answered the phone. “All right?” she said.

I fished my phone out of my bag and dialed Jenny again, and then my mom. No answers all around. Maybe they were sleeping off the storm, too.

“Kiss-kiss,” said Valka. “And thanks again for the flowers. They stirred my soul.” She shut her phone. “Well. This is really turning out to be a hell of a trip.”

I was glad for Valka, that she was getting such a kick out of her life at that moment. And if we were still safe in bed in Las Vegas I could have even mustered a smile. But I was not with her on the other side anymore. I was not the Catherine of my childhood, or the Moonie of my marriage, or the Cathy on the run in Las Vegas. I was just a girl in a diner in Nebraska trying to figure out what to do next.

Timber brought over two burgers. Mine was smothered in cheddar cheese.

“You looked like you needed a little cheese,” said Timber.

Valka clapped her hands together. “This is the prettiest burger I’ve ever seen,” she said. Timber stood and watched Valka take her bite. Some of the juice from the meat dripped down her hands and Valka licked it up gingerly. “Delish,” said Valka. Timber just smiled and stared at her. He was in love with her as much as I was, any fool could see that.

She took another bite and then put her burger down. “Now,” she said. “We just need a plan.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“What do you need a plan for?” said Timber.

“We’re here on a mission,” said Valka. “A secret mission.”

“Tell me more,” said Timber.

And then Valka said the same word to Timber that she said to me in Las Vegas to get my ass on the plane.

Jenny. It was all about Jenny, of course.

Jenny, and that tiny little life bubbling up inside her. Jenny’s arm in a sling. Our mother waiting for another chance to teach her a lesson. Jenny trapped in that house forever, or out in the snow somewhere, worse or better, I could not decide. Jenny making the wrong decisions. The decisions being made for her. My little sister, lost and alone and hurt. Doing her crooked cartwheels so no one would notice what was wrong with me. Jenny with her hands on her hips, looking at me.

“Timber, where is my sister?” I said.

Timber shook his head and sat down next to me in the booth.

“Your mom’s got her over at the house. She said she took away her car keys, locked her up in her bedroom, and she’s been telling everyone she’s not letting her out till spring.” Timber looked at me kind of funny. “We all were just kind of hoping she was kidding.”

“But what about the baby?” I said.

“There’s a baby?” said Timber.

“Uh,” I said.

“I don’t know anything about any baby. She’s been telling everyone that Jenny said she was going to run away. To find you.” He put his hand on mine. “Looks like you’re her hero.”

It was not possible I could be anyone’s hero. But when I looked at Valka she was nodding, and when I looked at Timber he was nodding. I did not nod back.

In the end, we did not need much of a plan. We just got in the BMW and drove to my parents’ house, Timber following us in his truck. Although we did act like we were secret agents as we were walking out the door of the diner. Valka sang the theme song to
Mission Impossible
and Timber pretended to shoot imaginary criminals and did a dive into the snow. If we had known what we were going to face when we got there, we would not have acted so carefree.

22
.

N
o one had cleared the snow from the driveway at my childhood home. At every other house on the block the massive drifts had been pushed aside onto front lawns and sidewalks. At our house, the snow piled up above the bottom of the front porch and around Jenny’s car all the way to the windows. Giant, swirling icicles hung everywhere, blocking the windows and the garage. I noticed for the first time that the right side of the roof was sagging. Had it always been that way and I had just never noticed? It was starting to get dark, and a new layer of chill crept over me.

“I have never seen snow like this in my life,” said Valka, as we waded toward the front door. “It must crush the spirit.”

“I don’t mind it,” said Timber. “You kind of buckle up and go for the ride. And just when you think there’s no chance for hope, that you’ll never see another black-eyed Susan—”

“—or the cornfields,” I said.

“—or an American elm,” said Timber.

“—or cranes on the Platte,” I said.

“Then there’s spring,” he said.

Valka laughed at the both of us, at our spring fancying.

“We love Nebraska,” I said.

“We do,” said Timber.

We reached the front door and I stood, ankle-high in the snow, and tried to unlock it. The dead bolt was locked. I did not have a key for it. It was something my mother had put in years ago, when there had been a mass murder at a Wendy’s near the Walmart where my dad worked. The killer had taken his ex-girlfriend and all of her coworkers into the deep freezer and shot them all execution-style. The police found the bodies bent over gallon jugs of ketchup and mustard. The killer made it all the way to the Canadian border but was stopped by the guards there. Wrestled to the ground. Screaming holy hell. They showed him in cuffs on the TV. He was a local boy, just like the rest of us. But he had gone mad for love. My mother muttered about the crazies for a few weeks and then finally one night my father pulled out his drill and installed the dead bolt. We used it just at night. Just to keep the crazies away. Crazies like me.