Page 11 of And Still Her Voice
Shoulders shrugged, the girl escorted me to the restroom.
“How much longer until we get to Griffith Park?” I asked, shivering as I opened the door to the stall.
“Oh, we passed there hours ago,” she said. “We’re headed to San Francisco.”
What!? San Francisco? “I thought he was meeting some music people in Los Angeles.”
“Charlie has to meet someone up there first.”
As I exited the bathroom and headed toward the phone booth, I heard Caroline shouting, “Everyone back in the van.” The girl grabbed my hand, pulling me back.
“But I want to call home.”
“Next stop,” she said.
Inside the van, Caroline handed out a brown bag full of food. My stomach gurgled. “We’re taking the scenic route,” she said, and we were off again, but the only scene I had was in the back of the stinky van with the communal snacks and drinks.
We continued rolling on through velvety green hills of mustard seed plants and fields of cows. Poppies erupted along the road, but then after a few more miles of twists and turns, I felt crummy. The front windows were rolled down and I could feel the crisp ocean breeze and smell the mix of sweet pine and briny air. But it didn’t help. “I’m going to be sick,” I yelled, clapping my hand over my mouth. Caroline swerved off the road and as soon as the door was opened, I threw up. Too weak to run, I still thought about it.
“Why don’t you ride up front with me,” Caroline said. I reached for my guitar and backpack, readying for the next chance I’d get to run away. “Keep your eyes on the horizon.”
Wiping a tear away with the back of my hand, I wanted to go home.
“Yes, darling. Let’s go home. I’m sure they miss you,” Grandma thought-whispered. “I’m sure they have learned their lesson.”
I had my doubts. “If you’d learned any lessons back when you were alive, you wouldn’t have come back to bother us,” I thought back. I didn’t think taking up space in my head and butting in on the family gave her any more insight and our situation certainly wasn’t anything she could fix. “From what I read of your religion you’re supposed to let go of earthly possessions.”
“Oh, but I did, darling. I left everything to the family. I left you the piano.”
“But, I think that meant all earthly relationships, too. When you die, isn’t the end goal to be happy and have peace at last? Didn’t you suffer enough—with Dad, especially?”
“Oh, dear, I’m a mother. You never stop worrying.”
“Well, if that’s the case, trust me, I’ll never be one.” I stared through the bug-splattered windshield, the sun setting behind the ominous dark mountain we were climbing. “I have enough to worry about.”
About an hour later, except where the headlights shown, everything turned pitch black. “We’re not going to make Big Sur tonight,” Caroline said, pulling off the road. “We’ll sleep here tonight.” I remembered seeing a book of matches on the dashboard. I grabbed them.
My heart nearly blasted out of my rib cage. I’m not sleeping anywhere near this scary man. Caroline walked around to the back of the van and gathered some blankets. “Follow me,” she said, and we trailed her to a patch of grass where she spread the blankets. I sat down, struck a match, and inhaled to calm myself while looking back at the van and feeling sorry for Barbie who’d chosen to stay behind. Maybe she hoped he’d buy her a dreamhouse someday.
“She’s made her bed,” Grandma said.
CHAPTER 7
Be Sure to Wear Flowers
At dawn, I woke to the sound of seagulls, and waves crashing onto the rocky shore. A memory surfaced of our family vacation one summer to Big Sur. Dad’s booze had kept him warm while the rest of us practically froze to death in cheap sleeping bags. I’d climbed out to go pee along the creek running through the campground. In the creek, a water snake slithered by. I bolted up midstream pee and ran back to the campfire. Dad said it was a killer electric eel. He told me that instead of using their eyes, they emitted a weak electric signal like radar to find a mate or prey. I dove back into my sleeping bag.
The ache in my head had dulled, but I felt damp, cold, and needed to pee. Giant pines spiked through a thin mist like tall, skinny witches cloaked in hoary shawls. The others were still asleep as I got up to go squat behind a tree. I hoped there were no eels out there. I’d held so much in, I thought I’d wake the others with the loud sound streaming from me, but then I saw the flash of twin electric lights and I heard the sound of an engine. A Volkswagen bug pierced through the fog, appearing like an alien spacecraft out of theWizard of Mars.It pulled over to the side of the road. The engine stopped. Squeezing the last drops, I yanked up my underwear and hurried back to grab my things.
Running toward the little yellow car, I had no time to worry about what kind of Martians might be in the vehicle.
A young tow-headed couple sat in the front seat and by the time I reached the Beetle, the woman had emerged holding a baby and then walked around to the trunk at the front of the car. She appeared to be a little older than me, at least I assumed so since she had a baby.
Panting from the frantic dash over, I announced myself so I wouldn’t scare her. “Hello ma’am?”
She looked up, still clutching a diaper pin in her mouth. Smiling, she removed it. “Ma’am? I’m not that old. Although today, I feel ancient.”
“I’m sorry. Please, I need a ride,” I said, turning to look behind me. I didn’t see anyone stirring just yet, but there was no time to waste by explaining my situation.
