Chapter 7

Chapter 7

(Day 18)

            “Mom?” I ask as we continue flying down the freeway merging with Hwy 99.

            “Yes?” she responds.

            “Umm…I was just thinking…,” I pause trying to gather my thoughts.  After a silent moment of her waiting for me to continue, she presses.

“OK…about what?”

“Remember…when we were at that memorial in Oklahoma…the sight of that terrible bombing?” I finally ask and see her nod her head. “You were talking about that day when it happened and about all those kids in day care,” I look down in my lap after another moment of quietness, then up again at her, “you and Grandma talked about leaving me in day care.

“We did?” she questions, “I guess we did, didn’t we.  I didn’t know you were listening to us.”

“Ya, I learned a lot about how you felt having to be a working mom leaving me with someone else.”

            “I hated leaving you with someone else.” she confirms, “What made you think of that?”

            “I guess I’m just thinking about Skylar.  Charlotte was so young when she had her, but so were you when you had me, and so was Tiffany when she had Char.  I just wonder what it would’ve been like…for both Charlotte and Skylar…if things had turned out different.”

I know it’s practically pointless, but I just can’t help but think how things could’ve been different for my cousin and her baby girl.  If only Charlotte could’ve gotten herself cleaned up and finished with high school.  She could’ve found a job or even a career doing something she enjoys…or not.  When you’re little, you’re always told that you can grow up to be whatever you want to be.  Nobody thinks that they won’t have a chance to grow up.  But even if Char had that chance, her choices were limited because…she was already a mother. 

            “Honey, I know it’s tempting to think about the “what ifs”, but I’m not sure how much good it does,” Mom finally responds to me.

            “I know, it’s not really that, though….”

            “What then, Letti?  What are you getting at?”

            “I just never thought about how young you were when you had me until my cousin got pregnant…and then…I don’t know.  I guess I just think she would’ve been a good mother even if she had to work outside the home and put her baby in day care.  It’s sad…that she never got the chance to be to Skylar what you and Tiffany were to us.”  What an awkward feeling it is to speak this way to my mom.  She looks over at me as if she’s not quite sure who she’s talking to.  It’s not like me to open up like this, but I finish anyway, “I also never knew how much it bothered you back when I was little and you had to work.”

            “It did.  It really really did.  It was hard to quit work trusting that we could make it on Dad’s income, but was so worth it.  Turned out it was easier to put our finances in God’s hands than to drop you off somewhere every morning.”  Mom pauses while looking over her shoulder to change lanes, “I feel bad for Tiff, though.  Which I know is quite an understatement.  It’s just that she had to start working after they moved off the ranch.  She’s said more than a few times that she regrets having to work now that her girls are teenagers,” she explains.

            “Do you think she blames herself, I mean…now that...,” I cut myself off unable to finish the question.

            “She does,” Mom quickly answers, “She told me.”

It never bothered me that mom used to work.  That’s where she was the day of the Oklahoma bombing, and I remember that day.  When she picked me up from day care, I could tell she’d been crying.  Her red face and sniffling nose gave it away. 

We went to GG and Papa’s house.  Mom sat with Papa in the living room watching the news while GG got me a bowl of frozen Cool-Whip.  It was kept in the freezer just for me.  After taking a few bites at the kitchen table, I jumped down and ran to the living room to see what they were so fascinated with on TV.  Some of the images still stand out in my head.

Mom was 22 years old.  As I learned while walking through the memorial in Oklahoma City, she had it in her head that she was destined to be a working mom her whole life.  Sorrow and helplessness flooded through her that day as she watched the small victims being removed from the destroyed federal building.  She thought for sure that she was a prisoner to being a working mother, never able to feel fully capable of protecting her children the way a stay at home mom can do. 

That was in 1995.  Three and a half years later, that all changed.  When I was almost eight years old and Gus was well over a year in age, my dad started supplementing his income with side work so Mom could stay home with us kids.  Seven years later, and I can’t imagine our life any other way. 

All those parents who lost their babies in the daycare center in Oklahoma were working. 

Tiffany was a stay at home mom at that point in time and for most of her children’s upbringing until circumstances forced her to find work outside the home.  Now she feels that she was not capable of protecting her own child.  Is there no right or wrong to motherhood?  Is there no perfect formula? 

“She shouldn’t feel guilty…it wasn’t her fault,” I add.

“I know, Honey.  It wasn’t.”

Tiffany was so young when she had her first baby, but she and Will did their best.  Mom was young too.  But it’s crazy to think of Char pregnant at 14, a mother at 15, and now gone at 16.  Growing up I just never thought about how young my parents were.  Everything always seemed normal to me. 

It was my normal.

Now what’s going to happen to Skylar?  I already know the answer.  The people in my family are good people.   That little girl is not going to suffer.  She’ll be well taken care of…probably even spoiled.  I know for sure she’s not going anywhere but in those two houses, Aunt JoAnne’s and Tiffany’s.  Now that Tiff and Will are off the ranch, they live just a few blocks from Aunt JoAnne’s and Uncle Harry’s house.  That baby’s world is contained in a loving family circle. 

It will be her normal.

            “Look at that, Letti,” Mom says as we pass a road sign, “We’re just 10 miles from Fresno, and it’s only 11:20,” she informs me smiling. 

The fact that the clinic stop didn’t put too much of a damper on our schedule, and we got just what we needed, an antibiotic, was actually a high in our day; a boring high, but still a high.  And since our day hasn’t had any highs, Mom’s excited by it.  Kind of makes me want to pathetically giggle at her moment of happiness as well as how lead footed she was driving.  And she thinks Grandma’s a speed demon.  Sheesh! 

(Day 4)

Grandma took over the driving to give Mom a break.  Cole was playing with the souvenir I purchased for myself instead of his own toy.  I was tempted to buy a peace pipe at the tee pee stop in lieu of the beaded purse just to say that I have one, but I settled for a little owl made out of a gourd.   Listening to Mom and Grandma argue, I noticed how we were flying past car after car frequently changing lanes while Grandma took us from the federal building to the Cowboy Museum. 

Mom’s right.  Grandma is a crazy driver. 

They were going back and forth about the hotel we had stayed at the night before in Amarillo.  It was one that Mom had picked out, and it was pretty sketchy.  But how could she possible know booking stuff online?

“I’m just saying, Delanie, that I’ve had more experience booking hotels than you have.  Red and I have done way more cross country trips than you have.”

            “Well, this is my first cross country trip, Mom,” she responded chuckling a little at Grandma’s oh so tactful comment catching onto the slight insult.  I think she was also laughing at her speedy driving.

            “See what I mean?  I’m not mad, but can we look at the itinerary and determine if we want to make any changes, possibly?” 

                        "Yes, Mother," Mom said rolling her eyes but not necessarily arguing with Grandma.   

Minutes later, we arrived at the “Cowboy Museum” which was kind of cute.

            “Are you serious, Grandma,” I asked while holding up a book called “The Sooner State”.  “They really nicknamed Oklahoma ‘The Sooner State’ because of the settlers that got here…sooner?”

“Yep!  True story, Leticia!” 

Grandma continued to give me a more detailed history lesson, which I was not interested in.  On one hand, I thought Oklahoma could’ve come up with a better name for their home state.  On the other hand, it’s just lame enough to be kind of cool.  It makes me think of Papa.  He loved to make simple things into silly jokes.

Finally, we finished with sightseeing and headed for our next stop, Claremore, Oklahoma.  Grandma found some cousin of hers on her genealogy website –he’s like a thousand times removed- who lives there.  The plan is to meet him and his wife for dinner.  Then tomorrow we have more sightseeing to do in Claremore as Grandma wants to take advantage of some of her own family’s history she’s discovered.  There’s a mansion there which was supposedly built by her ancestor.  We’re going on a tour of it…yippee skippy!!

It all seemed routine by then.  The conversation always started out the same once we’d get back on the freeway.  Cole would ask and we’d tell him where we were “doin’k”.  Then he’d look out his window and say, “Tan’t see it.”   The cute little exchange of words would pick up once again as we would finish the drive.  Entering the destination city, Grandma would point it out to her youngest grandchild, and he’d say, “I see it!  I see it!” 

We got checked into to our fourth hotel since we left California.  Since we were now two hours ahead of California time, Mom and Grandma decided to wait till after dinner before calling home.  So we left to check out the little touristy town of Claremore.  The older couple we met at the pizza place seemed nice enough.  Since the husband was distantly related to Grandma, he was to us as well, though I would say too distant to even be considered “related”. 

Bill and his wife, Allison, had their little granddaughter, Samantha, with them.  She was a brat!  The most entertaining part of the whole dinner was Cole watching the little two-year old who had the worst behavior he’d ever seen.  My parents are so strict with their little ones, that they’re oblivious to what a real tantrum looks like.  Cole couldn’t even think about taking a bite of pizza because he was so fascinated with her.  He just kept staring at this little girl with a look on his face like, “What the heck is your problem?”

Then it happened.  He walked in.  I guess that little Cole and Samantha weren’t really the most entertaining part of this outing.  It actually…was him…Mr. McDreamy….

Stopping just inside the entrance of the restaurant searching the place, the tall hunk captured my attention.  A couple other guys push their way through appearing at his side.  He looked in our direction, and then said something to his friends.  As soon as his buddy’s walked up to the counter -I assumed to order some pizza- he started to approach our table.  Half way across the room, I could tell he was looking at me, and my heart started pounding like crazy.

            “Hi, my name’s Brawn,” he said to me with his hand held out to shake mine. 

Wait!  Did he just say, Brawn?  No way!  His name can’t be Brawn.  Who would name their kid Brawn?  I mean sure, he definitely fits the name.  He had wide shoulders and was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt showing off what I would consider to be a brawny build.  Not to mention, there were black streaks and smudges all over his exposed skin.  I wonder what Mr. Wonderful has been doing all day.  Four-wheeling perhaps…in the mud…in a “souped-up” jeep?

I wasn’t sure if I should say, “Hi Brawn,” or not.  I probably looked dumb just sitting there not knowing what to do with myself.  Who is this guy anyway?  Why did he walk up to me?  He looks like he’s in college and way out of my league.  Great!  What do I do?  Everyone’s expecting me to say something.

            “Hi, Brian.  I’m Delanie.  This is Letti.”  My Mom answered him for me.  Thank God his name was Brian and not Brawn.  Thank God I didn’t answer him.  It must’ve been the Oklahoma accent that threw me off.  Snatching up the napkin from my lap, I wiped my mouth acting like it was full of food.  Then I put my hand out to shake his…since it was hanging in mid air waiting for mine to join it.

            “Sorry, Brian.  I didn’t want to answer with a mouth full of pizza.  That would’ve been rude of me.  Nice to meet you.”  I’m not sure, but I think I saved myself with that comment; either that or I made myself look way dumber.

            “Brian is our grandson and little Samantha’s cousin.  Did you know we would be here, Brian, or is this just coincidence?”  His grandfather asked him.  The old relative sitting across the table from Grandma did the proper introductions.  Then Allison asked Brian if he and his friends would join us.  That possibility gave me a feeling somewhere in between heavenly and panic.  But they apparently were just picking up some pizza to go and couldn’t stay.  They had other plans on this Friday night. 

The next thing I know the little brat, who was crawling around under the table flirting with, or I should say annoying, Gus by untying his shoe laces climbed back into her seat.

            “Brian!  Brian!  Brian!”  She stood up on her chair stretching her tiny hands high as far as they could reach to her big handsome cousin until he swooped her up cradling her safe in his strong arms. 

            “Hey, Sammy Girl!  Are you having fun with Granny and Gramps?”  He seemed to be good with kids.  How sweet is that?

Less than a minute later, he excused himself and walked back over to the guys who were sitting at a table close to the front door.  I tried to act as if I couldn’t care less, but enjoyed a dreamy fantasy of peeking over discovering him looking at me.  Sighing to myself, I found there was no such luck as they up and left.  Weird.  They took off without their pizza.  I assumed they’d be back.  I hoped.

            “Brian seems like a nice young man, handsome too.”  Grandma picked up the conversation. 

Turns out, he’s 20 years old, went to a trade school right after high school and now works as a mechanic in Claremore; explains the dark greasy marks I saw on his face and exposed muscles, I mean arms.  Hmm…interesting…. 

My Mom’s dad is a mechanic.  Red’s older brother, Dave, is one too.  They followed in their father’s footsteps.  Papa, who was known as one of the best mechanics in Livermore, and his two sons were all born in the little town of Henrietta, Oklahoma.  That’s not too far from Claremore according to the map I was looking at earlier.  They must breed ‘em here.

A few minutes later, the brawny beefcake walked back in, picked up his pizza and waved good-bye to us…making my heart skip a beat the moment his muscles flexed in mid air.  One more sigh, and I thought to myself that I was never going to see beautiful Brian again.

Now that my high was gone, dinner seemed to be dragging on.  I was finished eating, as well as everyone else, but they continued to talk mostly about family history stuff.  The boys went over to the arcade games, but Mom wouldn’t give them any quarters.  Bill and Allison seemed relieved when Samantha followed my brothers.  She apparently coaxed Gus into picking her up so she could pretend to play. 

            “Letti, would you go out to the car and get my change purse out of my bag?  I wanna give the kids some quarters.”  Grandma asked and I politely responded before fishing through Mom’s purse for the keys.  I guess that means we’re going to be here for awhile.

            “Grab the digital camera too.  Allison wants to see the pictures of the Grand Canyon,” Mom added, as she and Allison held their own conversation since Grandma and Bill were so engrossed in their genealogy talk.  I took my time moseying to the car.  I was in no hurry to get back to the table to sit and twiddle my thumbs. 

The weather on Friday, June 2, in Claremore, Oklahoma was rather pleasant.  It was still light outside at 7:30 pm with scattered cotton ball clouds.  However, a slight breeze was picking up, so I started searching for a light jacket.  The problem was at least half of our cargo had already been emptied out at the Comfort Inn. 

            “This is so boring,” I said to myself out loud, “I wonder if they’ll be anything good on TV tonight.  Hope we have some good cable chan…”

            “You always talk to yourself?”  I was on my hands and knees in the back of the suburban rummaging when I heard the question.   

Startled and letting a frightened sound escape my throat, I jumped around to see two guys standing there smiling at me.  They no doubt were enjoying the view they had a moment before when my perky round bum was sticking up in the air.            

             “Only when people sneak up on me and eavesdrop,” I snapped back, not saying another word nor climbing out until I was able to figure out who they were and what they wanted. 

Were they just passing by and decided to stop and talk?  People sure are friendly in Oklahoma.

            “You’re Brian’s cousin, aren’t you?”  One of them asked me, and that’s when it clicked.  They were the two guys I saw with him a little earlier.  Guess they haven’t left for their big Friday night plans yet.  I was so busy staring at my gorgeous distant cousin, I paid little attention to the two side-kicks with him, and so didn’t recognize them at first.

Not answering right away, I sat there still trying to decipher their intentions, and then started looking around the parking lot behind them.

            “Brian’s already left.”  He said.

            “Oh?  I thought you all had plans for tonight.  Isn’t that why you were picking up food?”

            “No, actually, Brian lost a bet and had to buy us a couple pizzas.  But we do have plans with him a little later.  We’re all going to hang out at a friend’s house.  You wanna join us?” he explained with a wink and a half smirk.  Does he think that’s attractive? 

The thought, however, of seeing Brian was enticing.  Now I was really starting to feel nervous.  

Come on, Letti, I thought to myself, you have friends at school ranging in ages up to 18.  These guys are just a couple years older.  You can do this…just play it cool.

            “I don’t know, guys.  I mean I don’t really know you.”

            “We’re just gonna listen to music and play games.  You like beer pong?”  This time the other guy was doing the talking, “Or do they not play drinking games where you’re from?”

            “Ya sure.  I’m not very good though,” I casually answer.

I’m such a liar.  I’ve never played beer pong.  I’ve never drank beer.   But they’re buying my charade. 

“So, Brian’s gonna be there too?" I asked, "Are you guys even old enough to buy beer?  Because I’m not.”  

They didn’t look the same age as Brian.   They actually looked younger, but I assumed they were all around 20.  “Or do they not card people where you’re from?” I asked with a half smirk.

            “The guy’s house we’re going to…he’s buying the beer.  You wanna let your family know you’re coming with us?  We’ll get you back home later,” the first guy explained.  But I had no reason to trust either one of them.

            “I’m not driving with you.  I don’t even know your names.  You don’t even know mine.  And I never said I would join you.” 

It was kind of fun playing hard to get, acting like I couldn’t care less.  I felt impressed with myself.  The attention from these two was nice, but I would’ve rather it have come from Brian.

            “You’re Letti.  Brian told us,” he added.  

Oh my gosh!  That means he remembered my name and talked about me.  That’s so awesome!  I really did want to go with them after hearing that, but couldn't fathom how it would be possible. 

They introduced themselves properly, but I was hardly paying any attention to their names.  I climbed out of the Chevy as they each took one of my hands and helped me out.  OK, that part was rather charming, but all I could think about…was Brian. 

I started biting my nails getting lost in thought about how I could pull it off.

            “Well?”  The first guy asked.

            “Well what?”

            “Your family…are you gonna go tell ‘em?”

            “Ummm…no.”  Think, Letti, think, “I’ll need to help my mother with my little brothers when we get back to our hotel.  You know with baths and bedtime and all.”  

It sounded like a good excuse to me.  I wasn’t ready to give a definite answer one way or the other.  I needed time to weigh my options.

            “Well, why don’t you just call us when you’re ready?  We’ll come pick you up.  I’ll give you my number.  You have a cell phone you can put it in?”

            “Actually no, I…dropped my phone in the toilet the other day.  Had no time to replace it before we left home.”

Ya, that’s it.  That’s what I did.  What else am I supposed to say…that I’m not allowed to have a cell phone till I’m 16?  I’m not letting on how young I am.  “So…I’m sort of out of luck there.”  What in the world am I getting myself into?  “Why don’t I just…find a piece of paper to write it down on?”

A million things were running through my mind when I walked back into the pizza restaurant.  Everyone was confused about what took me so long.  On top of that, I forgot the change purse and the camera.  I offered to go back out, but Mom argued with Grandma that she doesn’t need to give the boys any quarters because they’ll just waste them.

            “Delanie, I have no problem spending quarters on slot machines.  Why wouldn’t I give some to my grandsons?”  I stood there waiting to see who was going to win this little squabble when Bill spoke up.

            “Actually, we should get going.  We need to get Samantha bathed and in her PJs before her momma gets off work and picks her up.”

Ten minutes later, we were all loaded up and belted into our seats pulling away from the restaurant.  I searched the parking lot to see if the guys were still around.  What were their names again?  Oh right.  They wrote them down on the back of the Walgreens receipt that’s safely tucked away in my jacket pocket.

Written by Amie Spruiell

Amie Spruiell After the Event © 2016