(Day 1)
“Can
we stop at Starbucks?” I asked from my
seat.
“I would have made you
some coffee before we left if I knew you would’ve wanted some,” was Mom’s
response.
“Want a sip of my
tea?” I shook my head to say “no” to my
grandma, and her hand holding the travel mug out to me disappeared back to the
front passenger seat. Then I saw Mom’s hand
reach down to pick up her can of Diet Mountain Dew. She guzzled for a second or two, and then
returned it to the cup holder in the center console.
Well, they had their caffeine. What about mine?
“Can
we at least stop somewhere for breakfast?”
We’d only been on the road for 15 minutes, but I was already bored. I talk when I’m bored.
“I
really didn’t want to stop till lunch time.”
“But it’s only 7
o’clock! We’re going to drive for five
hours straight?” I couldn’t believe my
ears. My sightseeing mom was suddenly
like a man on a driving mission. She’s
turned into the Suburban Nazi. God
forbid any of us need to use the potty!
“Don’t
be ridiculous, Letti. You’re arguing for
the sake of arguing. There’s no reason
to stop for breakfast. Grandma packed
snacks.”
“There’s
a bag back there with bananas, granola bars, and water bottles. Can that tide you over till we stop?” Grandma spoke up very politely attempting to
subdue the tension already building between mom and daughter.
Grandma wasn’t always the most
cheerful, but since we had just gotten started on our trip, she was doing her
best to be overly pleasant. I’m sure a
56 year old woman who’s been enjoying her retirement indulging in her own
social scene had some reservations about traveling two weeks with four kids,
one being a teenager. Yet it was her
idea. Her kindness, I thought, was
making Mom look like an ogre. Can we all
say, Mrs. Shrek?
“Ya,
I’ll have a granola bar. Gus! Can you hand me one and a water bottle? Juice would’ve been nice, though.” Mom glared back at me through the rear view
mirror after that comment, and Cole offered me his sippy cup with milk in
it. I took a swig and handed it
back…just because I like him, not because I wanted some milk. “So, what if we need to go to the
bathroom?” I knew I was pushing my
luck. If I had some coffee, I’d be
nicer. Mom sighed and then responded.
“Maybe…,”
there was one more glare from her before she continued, “Maybe I’ll be nice
enough to stop…maybe I won’t.” I threw
my head back and let a growling noise of frustration slip through my vocal
chords.
Why? Why? Why am I even here right now? -were the words going through my head.
35 minutes later, some of us needed
to use the potty. It wasn’t me. It was Mom…and Cole and Walker. We took an exit off of hwy 5 and pulled up to
a Starbucks in a shopping center.
Mom looked back at me and smiled.
“I
could’ve stopped at the rest stop, but I saw the sign for Starbucks and thought
of you…you’re welcome.” Don’t you just
love it when parents sarcastically say “you’re welcome” before you have a
chance to say “thank you” just to make a point that you haven’t said “thank
you” fast enough, and then they wait for you to come back with a pathetic
sounding “thank you” just so they can respond with a ridiculous smirk making
them feel proud of themselves for putting you in your place? I don’t!
So, I said nothing. I just got
out of the car, went into Starbucks, and got in line to order my white
chocolate mocha frap.
Tuesday morning, the day after
Memorial Day 2006, made for a busy Starbucks at this little stop in the middle
of No-Where, California. I was still in
line when Mom, Cole, and Walker came out of the bathroom.
“You
should use the bathroom too before we get back on the road.”
“I
will,” I answered my mother as sweetly as possible. I could’ve guessed that’s what she was going
to say.
By the time I made my order, I saw my
brother, Gus, walk in to use the bathroom himself. No doubt Mom told him to go. I doubt he argued. Augustus MacEanraig is a quiet 8 year old kid
with a slight passive rebellion to him.
He’s nothing like the man or I should say “character” he was named
for.
Captain Augustus McCrae was a loud
mouthed Texas Ranger in the mini-series, Lonesome Dove. My parents first saw it on TV as
teenagers. Papa read the novels, and Red
has the whole series on VHS. Old
People! A set of DVDs would make a nice
gift for Red next Christmas. My dad
always liked that the name McCrae was a Scottish name similar to his,
MacEanraig. I know! Strange name, huh…too many vowels. Anyway, they made me watch it once. I was bored, but I liked Gus. My brother’s nothing like him…no loud mouth
on that kid.
My brother is a lot more like the
other old guy in the story, Captain Woodrow Call…a very serious dude. My parent’s should’ve named him Woody after
Captain Call, especially since he loves Woody in the movie, Toy Story, so
much. Which by that point, I’d had the
pleasure of watching for about a half hour on our portable DVD player. It was only the 87th time I’d seen
it. That’s O.K. As soon as it was over, I had plans to watch
Johnny Depp in the new Willy Wonka movie.
“Excuse
me. Are you in line to order?” Oops.
Apparently, I was standing in the wrong place and holding up the line. I realized it just as the sophisticated woman
in the business suit asked me that question.
I wondered where in the world she would be working out here in no man’s
land. I’ll bet she’s got quite a
commute.
“No. Sorry.”
I responded and quickly moved over to the counter area to wait.
I had a better view of the bathroom
from there and saw a huge line forming while Gus was inside. If she
thinks I’m standing in that line when I don’t even have to go, she’s crazy! I thought to myself.
The next thing I knew, I had a
feeling of déjà vu. I saw a small framed
woman walk in with three little girls who looked to be all about a year apart
in age. The middle was a toe head, the
oldest had golden colored hair, and the youngest was a brunette. It was weird. They reminded me of my cousins in Fresno when
we were all little.
“Hey, Gus. Come’ere,” I called over to my brother just
as he came out of the bathroom. He
walked over to me. “Look at those three
little girls in line. Don’t they remind
you of Charlotte, Lexi, and Katelyn?” I
quietly asked him while pointing to them.
He shrugged his shoulders and walked out to the car. I guess it was a dumb question. Like Gus would remember. He was a baby when the girls and I were that
young.
I used to be jealous that my cousins
had sisters. I’m the only girl in our
family.
When Papa died, he left behind his 2
sons, 3 grandsons, and 5 great-grandsons.
Three of those “greats” are my brothers.
Two are cousins. One was born a
month before Papa died and was named after him.
He was given the name, Jacob Byron Walker (Byron for Papa). I’m the oldest great-grandchild…and the only
girl. I used to hate it, but now I love
being the only girl. No
competition. My mom was his only
granddaughter. I wonder if my mom ever
felt the way I do about being the only girl.
Probably…why wouldn’t she? Papa
and GG had no daughters. I’ve been told
that Papa cried the day I was born. What
a sweet old man.
Finally! My frap was ready. I still couldn’t believe how many people were
there. Was that really all due to the
long Memorial Day weekend coming to an end?
(Day 18)
That’s where I was the day after
Memorial Day. Here we are, Friday, June
16th on the same hwy 5, but not quite to that little exit just
yet. 18 days ago, I was a bitchy
teenager, but my world felt safe. 18
days ago, I had never personally known anyone who had been murdered. 18 days ago, the young victim who we are now
on our way to mourn over could have been alive.
I wonder…I wonder if she was.
Two days ago, Tiffany, Mom’s cousin,
told us that Charlotte, her oldest daughter, had actually been home Memorial
Day weekend. That was surprising. She’d been on the streets off and on for months. I remember Tiffany’s shaky words filling us
in:
“She
said she wanted to come home for good.”
She told Mom and me while we sat on the back porch at Aunt JoAnne’s
house. We waited quietly for Tiff to
finish in between catching her breath while holding back sobs. “That was on Saturday,” She continued and
explained that Will, Charlotte’s dad, planned to help her find a summer
job. “Then on Monday she got in a fight
with us.” Tiff stopped for a moment
shaking her head. “I told her to go to
her room to calm down. Will and I went
to ours to do the same.”
That same day, my cousin, Charlotte,
climbed out of her window after that fight with her parents. That was the last time they saw her. The news of her death was only revealed in
the wee hours of June 14th.
The entire time we were on our
vacation, God knows what was happening to Char.
While we were packing up our Suburban, she ran away from
home…again. That was the night before we
left California. Tiffany and her
husband, Will, got the news of their daughter’s death the morning that we were
about to enter back into California. We
never knew any of this was going on during our two week trek.
“Are you gonna want to
make any stops?” I ask my mom. Her
answer will probably be “no”.
“Funny
you should ask. I was just thinking
about how we stopped at Starbucks the last time we drove this way. I remember seeing a mom with three little
girls going inside while we were waiting for you and Gus. They looked like Charlotte, Lexi, and
Katelyn. Strange how it really stood out
to me then…and now…well, it’s just…strange.”
She sighs deeply, and as she breathes in, her breath skips several times
sounding like she’s holding back a cry.
“I don’t really want to stop. I
just want to get there.”
So, Mom saw them too and thought the
same thing. Now here we are both
remembering that stop.
I wonder what Char was doing in the
big city of Fresno the day after she abandoned her parents’ home for the last
time…I wonder what Char was doing while I was sipping my frap safe in the car
watching movies with my little brothers.
Was she alive at that time, or had it already happened?
“Where’s
Walker?” Cole asks pulling me out of my thoughts.
“He’s
at Miss Connie’s,” I answer him.
“Where’s
Gus?”
“He’s
at Miss Ellen’s.”
“Why?”
I look up at Mom to see if she’s paying any attention to Cole’s questions. She is, and she answers.
“Sweetie,
we’re going to Fresno. Remember? Grandma’s there at Aunt JoAnne’s house, and
you’ll get to go swimming after we go to the church for a little bit. OK?
It’s just us three. Gus and
Walker stayed in Livermore this time.”
She looks at me disapprovingly, and I remember how I wasn’t supposed to
remind Cole where his brothers were in case he got jealous.
This morning our brother’s each went
to different friends’ houses. There were
plenty of people wanting to help out in any way they could. So, Mom took a couple friends up on their
offers as babysitters. She didn’t want
to explain to an almost six year old and a just turned nine year old what
really happened. It was enough to
explain that there was a death in the family.
And death still felt pretty fresh in their young minds after losing Papa
only months before. Heck, it was still
fresh in my mind.
She wasn’t concerned about the
youngest in our family talking about death, however. Actually Cole didn’t talk much at all. He’s always been a little behind in his
speech. She decided to keep him with us
because he wouldn’t raise those difficult questions, and she felt bad asking
someone to take care of a three year old.
On Wednesday, while we were all in
Fresno, Mom did her best to know where her boys were at all times; guarding
them from the many conversations about the tragedy. She was constantly sending me to check on
them when she wasn’t able to step away herself.
It was exhausting for everyone.
I was not so guarded. I was very involved in the many
conversations. There was no need to hide
anything from the teenagers, especially since my cousin, Charlotte, was only a
year and a half older than me.
I kept remembering how much I loved
playing with her and her sisters when the four of us were little. Mom and I would take little weekend trips to
Fresno and hang out at their house. Many
of those visits would fall on Memorial Day weekend.
Maybe two and a half weeks ago if we
had been visiting Fresno instead of leaving California for our stupid road
trip, things would have turned out different.
(Day 1)
We weren’t back on the road for long
after that bathroom stop and wouldn’t you know it? There was a scratch on the Toy Story DVD.
“Ohhh
Nooo…,” I belted out trying my best to sound super sympathetic.
“What? What’s the matter?” Grandma quickly reacted to my outburst as her
panicky voice inquired of the sudden dilemma.
Mom stayed silent. She always knew when I was overreacting.
“The movie stopped
working. Sorry guys, but there must be a
scratch,” I informed everyone, completely staying in character.
“I can tell you’re all
broken up about it,” Mom said, drawing my attention upwards to see her eyes
narrowly smirking at me through the rearview mirror. That’s when Grandma caught on to my charade,
gave a sigh, and asked if there was anything else to watch. I quickly answered.
“Why, yes there is!” That’s when I got Johnny Depp out of the
case, and popped him in. Mom instantly
recognized the music and started telling Grandma all about it.
“You have got to see this
movie, Mom. It’s hilarious…so much
better than the first!”
“Better than Gene Wilder
and Jack Albertson?”
“Jack who?”
“Jack Albertson! He played the grandpa,” My Grandmother loves
to enlighten us all with her keen knowledge of famous actors.
“Oh, I remember him. He played a good grandpa. But I’m serious about Johnny Depp. He did it totally differently than Gene
Wilder. He’s kind of creepy, but so
funny.”
Mom was right. He is creepy in that movie. That’s what makes it so good. Tim Burton’s a genius. But by the look on Grandma’s face, she’s not
impressed with Mom’s endorsement.
“You know, Jack Albertson
also played in the movie, The Poseidon Adventure.” There she goes again with her Hollywood
trivia. “His wife was Shelly Winters in
that movie,” she continued.
“Really?” Mom asked.
“Do you even know who Shelly Winters was?”
“Of course I do,
Mom. She was in ‘Night of the Hunter’
and ‘The Diary of Anne Frank’. What do
you mean ‘was’? Did she die?”
“Yes, she died earlier this year in
January.”
“I didn’t know that.
And I’ve never seen The Poseidon Adventure,” Mom added.
“Oh, it’s a really good story. But I think Jack Albertson was mostly known
for that TV
show, ‘Chico and the Man’.”
Listening to the two of them while
waiting for the opening credits to finish up was getting on my nerves. I reached back to grab a headset from the
third row of seats while they continued conversing from the first.
“I
remember that show,” Mom responded.
“You do? You were
pretty little when it was on TV. It
didn’t last very long, either.
Freddie Prinze committed suicide, and
they ended the show. You must’ve watched
reruns with Red.”
“Probably. Is that the
name of the guy who played Chico? Was
that Freddie Prinze Jr’s
dad?”
“Of course. You didn’t
know that?”
Good Grief! They went from Johnny Depp to Freddie Prinze
Jr. in less than a minute. If there’s
one thing I could say about Gloria Dee Walker and her daughter, Delanie, it’s
that they love movies, and they’re pretty good at naming and placing
celebrities. I’m getting pretty good at
it myself. But you should hear their conversation
when they can’t recall the names of those famous people they’re trying to
place. It goes something like this:
“Look! It’s that guy from that one movie.”
“What
one movie?”
“The
one about the crazy animals.”
“Oh,
the movie with that one girl?”
“Ya,
the blonde, and she played with that other guy, remember?”
“Ya
ya ya…the guy from the movie about the island?”
“Uh
huh, that’s the one!”
Pretty crazy, right? Anyway, everything was going great for awhile
until Walker started repeating lines, singing songs, and mimicking
characters. For a five year old, he’s
very smart. He has an excellent memory,
and some of the comments he blurts out we’ve started calling “Walkerisms”. I hear his name fits him well. He’s named after my mom’s maiden name, the
Walker family, and I’ve been told they come up with some pretty funny
one-liners, or as they would say, “Good’uns!”
Now, however, he was purposely trying
to get my attention, but all he was doing was annoying me.
“Walker,
stop it!”
“But
Letti….”
“But
Letti what?” I paused the movie and
looked over at him to see his pretty-boy face giving me his best smile and
fluttering his long eye lashes at me over those big blue, deep set eyes. “What?” I asked again.
“I
love you, Sissy.”
“And?” I drew the question out tilting my head in
suspicion of his supposed term of endearment.
“Can
I use your headset? Mine doesn’t work
very well.”
We argued for awhile until Mom told
Walker to stop nagging me. That’s when
he thought it would be funny to ask one more time under his breath. And that’s when Mom pulled over the Suburban
and spanked Walker Matt MacEanraig after saying his full name…just like I
did…just now.
Well, that shut him up. The next thing I knew, Walker and Cole fell
asleep. Gus and I were able to finish
the movie in peace. But they didn’t
remain in their slumber for long, and their behavior was wearing on everyone’s
nerves. What did Mom expect? Perfect little angels driving for hours day
after day? I wondered how much worse it
was gonna get after a week goes by.
Needless to say, there were a few more spankings as well as bathroom
stops before we reached the desert and the Joshua Trees.
“Oh,
I just love these Joshua Trees,” Grandma said after a dreamy sort of sigh.
“I know, Mom, you’ve
always told me that.” I saw Mom rolling
her eyes as if she just knew this little conversation with her own mom would
end up in us all stopping. “I remember
driving to your brother’s house when I was little. On our way there, we stopped to see the
Joshua Trees, and you guys took pictures of David and me under them.”
“You
remember that?”
“I
remember everything, Mom.”
“Oh,
I didn’t know you had a photographic memory,” Grandma responded wobbling her
head sarcastically.
“Fine,
Mom. I don’t remember everything…but I
do remember a lot.”
“Well, I remember,”
Grandma started, “when my family first came to California. It was back in the 50’s when Disneyland first
opened. I’m sure as a little girl, I
wasn’t thrilled about stopping for a picture under a tree, but I’m glad now
that we did. We should stop and snap a
few with all your kids under one. Then
we’ll have three generations of those pictures.”
Mom and Grandma went back and forth
for awhile discussing whether they should stop now or wait till the end of the
trip when we would be on our way back to California.
(Day 18)
“What
are you looking at,” Mom asks as I look through snapshots on our digital
camera.
“The
Joshua Trees,” I say thoughtfully.
“Oh,
yes…the Joshua Trees.” It’s been pretty
quiet in the Suburban. Mom doesn’t even
have the radio on. “It’s a good thing we
stopped on that first day of the trip to take those pictures,” she says to me
after a few more moments of silence.
“Huh? Oh ya…you’re right. We definitely wouldn’t have stopped on the
way back.” I’m not sure if a word was
spoken by anyone other than the boys as we drove through the desert from Nevada
to Fresno that day when we first got the horrific news of Charlotte.
“Did
you like the Joshua Trees?” Mom asks trying to change the mood.
“Ya…I
did…they looked pretty cool.”
“Did
you hear what my mom said about how they got their name?”
“Didn’t
she say the Mormons named them?”
“Yep…because
they looked like men with their arms raised to heaven,” Mom says while raising
one arm up in the air melodramatically.
I chuckle at her demonstration.
“Why
‘Joshua’?”
“I don’t know. Moses was the one known for having his hands
raised to heaven during a battle. Joshua
just helped to support his tired arms.”
“Maybe they thought ‘Joshua Trees’ sounded better than ‘Moses
Trees,’” I suggest.
“I suppose. I thought
some of them looked like Medusas.”
“I thought it all looked like we were driving through a Dr.
Seuss book.”
Mom nods her head in agreement, and
then it gets silent again. Finally, she
asks me if that was the only thing I liked about the vacation she made me
take. I don’t answer right away. I think about it while staring out the window
at the dry golden grassy view, sprinkled with some leftover spring green,
whizzing by us. I’ve gotten used to
staring at scenery.
The Joshua Trees were much more
interesting to look at compared to hwy 5.
New Mexico was pretty too; especially on our way back because we took a
detour and stopped in Santa Fe. I
remember Mom going on and on about how beautiful the Ozarks in Northern
Arkansas were. From where one of our
hotels was situated in Eureka Springs, we could see the tops of dark green
billowy trees for miles while out on our balcony. The panhandle of Texas was boring, though;
kind of like this part of California.
I think I could become hypnotized
staring at all this. That would be nice.
It might get my mind off of the few
details I’ve already heard about Charlotte’s cause of death…makes me shudder.
“Letti,
I asked you a question,” Mom presses.
“Uh…ya…sorry…I guess
there were some things I liked.”
“Like
Kenny?”
“Yep. I liked Kenny….” Thinking of Kenny makes me smile. It’s
nice to smile, I think to myself while I continue to go through our digital
camera and think about how strangely that first day ended.
Written by Amie Spruiell
Amie Spruiell After the Event © 2016
No comments:
Post a Comment