Dream Smashers (4 page)

My eyes burn.

The expression on her face would scare away
zombies—if any stood by my side.

I take several steps back, hitting the open
door.

“You…you really shouldn’t be here.” I manage
to force out the words. I don’t want her to yell at me. Please,
Mother, don’t yell at me. “What do you want?”

Jacinda puts her hand on her side where a
normal woman’s hip would have been. “What do you think I want?” She
turns back into the kitchen.

I follow.

Dark wood splinters litter the small
breakfast table in the center of the room. A broken rack hangs from
the far wall. Grams displays some of her best spoons in this rack.
Or did. Her grandmother gifted it to her when she was a kid.

A charge of heat fills my chest and moves up
into my ears and to my face. How dare she break Grams’ most
important things! What I want to say will make me look as
irrational as Jacinda is, and I’m not like her, so I don’t say
anything.

The several steps toward the heap of rubble
on the table feel like drudging through mud. Jacinda stands only a
few feet from it, rummaging through kitchen cabinets, oblivious to
the delicate nature of casserole dishes and platters and drinking
glasses.

She startles and turns to face me. Her face
no longer filled with anger, but with desperation and fear. Our
eyes meet for a moment.

“Help me, honey. Come and help me find what
I’m looking for.” She holds out her hand.

Don’t wimp out now. If I’m going to tell her
how mad I am, I have to focus. Forget that she looks so lost.
Forget her puppy dog eyes, pleading for help. I break eye contact
to glance at the broken spoon rack.

“What is it you’re looking for?” I ask.

Tears swell in her eyes. “Oh, honey, I need…I
need…money.” Her gaze shifts from me to the invisible force behind
me. “Or …or something valuable. Do you know where Grandma keeps
that stuff, sweetheart? It’s very important that we find it. Come
on, come on, come help Mommy.” Her speech reminds me of an older
model race car: quick but jerky. She turns back to the cabinet and
resumes her frantic search.

“Mom.”

She continues her destruction.

“Mom.”

Nothing.

“Jacinda!”

She twitches half-way around.

“Grams doesn’t have anything like that. So,
you should probably leave before she gets home.” Broken plates on
the floor, glass everywhere. “You don’t want her to see the mess
you’ve made here, do you?”

She leans across the table, inches from my
face. An open flame to newspaper, she bursts into a tirade. “You
don’t tell me what to do, little prissy missy. You fucking whore,
you’re the one that needs to leave. Just leave, you stupid little
bitch!”

Rotting mouth and cigarette breath along with
fear almost cause me to step back—almost. She’s in my space,
invading my air, stirring emotions I never knew I had.

“No. I’m not leaving because this is my
house. And you’re not welcome here.” I control my voice,
barely.

“This is my fucking house you stupid fucker!
Two-faced brat. You better watch yourself, you might fall off that
high horse you’re on.” She turns back to the cabinet, pushes some
plates onto the ground, and then faces me again.

“You think you’re better than me? Fuck off.”
Spit flies from her mouth. “Go! Go now! I grew up here too, ya
stupid fuck. You’re selfish, you know that? Who do you think you
are?” She takes a breath. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Get the
fuck out!”

I don’t budge.

Her eyes don’t belong to her, or to any human
being for that matter—twitching, black, filled with the darkest
hate imaginable.

No, I’m not like her. Not like her at all. I
will never be like her.

I step around the table, with air under my
feet, to stand toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye with the devil-woman before
me. “Grams doesn’t have anything because of you. Grams, who worked
her entire life, and Gramps, who worked two jobs seven fucking days
a week until he died, have absolutely nothing. Because of you. You
sucked them dry. So, it’s time you leave now. There’s nothing left
for you here.”

She doesn’t move.

The front door latches shut. Footsteps make
their way through the living room.

I break the stare down. Grams appears in the
doorway of the kitchen. Shoulders rounded. Face full of sorrow. As
if she’s carrying a heavy barbell on her shoulders and can no
longer hold on to it. But if she doesn’t, it will fall. And its
fall is the worst thing imaginable.

Silence.

She crunches through the broken glass to the
pantry, opens it, and pulls out a broom.

Jacinda’s face scribbles up; a small vein
swells on her forehead. Tears flow. She chokes and hacks on phlegm
from deep in her lungs. Only air escapes her mouth, no voice. “Fuck
you.”

She wipes the pain from her eyes onto the
back of her arm and jitters out of the kitchen.

Before leaving through the front door, she
looks back. “It’s all your fault.” She points a crooked finger
encrusted with dirt at me. “Fuck you!” The door slams shut behind
her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Grams never cried in front of me when Gramps
died. But late at night I often heard her weeping in the dark of
their bedroom. I feel closer to her knowing she isn’t as tough as I
always thought. Her crust is made of stone, but her filling is a
soft woman with a broken heart.

“You should be getting ready for your date,
honey. Don’t you worry ‘bout me now,” she says.

I laugh. “You’re crazy to think that I’m
leaving you alone tonight.” I put the broom back in the closet,
then sit at the clean table.

Grams sets a small plate of Oreos and two
glasses of milk in front of me before sitting. “I won’t be alone.
It’s bunko night.”

Oh yeah, bunko. Woo hoo.

“Where’s it at tonight?” I dunk an Oreo in
the cold milk.

“Next door at Agnes’ house.” Grams opens her
Oreo to eat the cream from the middle first.

“Grams…can I ask you something?”

She raises her brow and then nods. “Shoot.”
She finishes her cookie, grabs her Virginia Slims and lights a
cigarette.

“Okay, but first you have to promise not to
get mad.”

“For cripes sake, Autumn, I can’t promise
that. I will promise to listen though, so spill it.”

“Why don’t you ever call the police when
Jacinda breaks in?”

She takes a long drag on the death stick.
Little lines accentuate her puckered lips. “I know this is hard for
you to believe, but no matter what your mother does, I’ll still
love her. She’s my daughter. The same goes for you.”

“Okay, if you love her, why don’t you help
her?” My gut seizes. “I mean…uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it
sound like that.”

“I know.” Grams looks at me. “You’re a very
bright girl and I know what you’re thinking. You think that I’m an
enabler.”

“I didn’t say that.” I push the milk,
peppered with black chunks, away. “I just think that if she’s
arrested, that maybe it would be some kind of wake-up call. You
know?”

“Yes, I do know.” Grams reduces her life
sentence with another lung full of smoke. “Your grandfather and I
actually tried that route once. Not on our own, mind you. Your
great-aunt Tilda nagged us for months to do it. But as soon as we
discovered her living with you on the streets, we got the
authorities involved.” She smashes her cigarette into the ash tray.
“Your mom spent only about a week in a treatment facility before
she got kicked out. She continued using and lost custody of you.
Now that you’re safe, she can do whatever she wants. She’s a grown
woman.”

“Yeah, but you still buy her groceries and
stuff.”

“Of course I do. I’m not going to let her
starve to death. I’ll buy her food, but never give her cash.” She
shakes her head.

The house phone rings. I jump up to answer
it.

“Hello.”

“Dude, why didn’t you answer my texts?” Rainy
asks. “Are we still on for tonight?”

I pull my cell phone from my pocket. It’s on
silent. “You’re alive? I thought maybe you’d be lying in a ditch by
now or something.”

“Har har har. Meet me at my place in twenty
minutes. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, whatever. What are we doing?”

“Rainbow Pizza, baby.”

“’Kay. See ya.” I hang up the phone. “I’m
going to get ready.”

Grams clears her throat. “Before you do, let
me ask you something. Are you going to church on Sunday?”

“Do I have to?”

“Of course not. May I ask why you don’t want
to?”

I shrug.

Grams nods and I walk down the hall to my
room.

What to wear, what to wear. It’s not a hard
question to answer because there are only two possible choices in
my closet at the moment—the brown straight skirt with cream blouse
or the black dress. I go with the brown and cream. Then I can wear
my brown flats.

I pull my dark hair into a ponytail, fluff a
little blush on my cheeks and a little liner to highlight my brown
eyes and out the door I go.

“Don’t be out too late,” Grams hollers.

“I won’t. Have fun at bunko.”

***

“Dude, hold up. I need to say something
before we walk in here.” Rainy pauses before we reach the door to
Rainbow Pizza. She’s standing in a puddle from the recent rain. She
looks left, then right, all serious like. “What the fuck are you
wearing?”

“Oh my gawd, are you serious? You stopped to
ask me that? It happens to be a very classy skirt and blouse.
Unlike the childish crap you’re wearing.” She’s still wearing the
pink and green schoolgirl skirt she had on this morning, except now
she’s wearing matching leg warmers too.

“Paleeeez. My stuff ain’t childish, it’s
original.” She looks at her Converse. “Well, my shoes aren’t. But
the rest is. How many plaid hot pink skirts do you see these
days?”

“Exactly. So, what’s your deal? I’m not like
you.”

“I see. You’re like Mrs. Fancy Pants in the
convertible, right?”

“It’s not Mrs. Fancy Pants. It’s Ms.
Lightheart and whatever. Can we just go eat? I’m starving.” I open
the front door. The heat of the restaurant blasts us as we step
in.

He looks like his picture, but different. His
hair, a darker shade of blond, his face a paler shade of cream, but
his clear blue eyes are the same. They sparkle, a welcoming light
that must come from within because the dim room shines no
light.

His gaze finds us in the entry. He stands and
waves. He and Rainy’s date saves a booth in the back, next to the
arcade.

“Looks like you have the cute guy this time.”
Rainy searches the ground, pretending she’s not talking. “So not
fair.”

“Yeah, he is cute in real life too, huh?” I
smile when I speak so that my lips don’t move. “What’s your guy’s
name again?”

“Caleb. He looked a ton cuter in his
picture.” We approach the boys. “Hi. I’m Rainy and this is
Autumn.”

Caleb stands to shake Rainy’s hand. “Hi. It’s
so good to finally meet you.” The skin on his chubby face turns
pink. I can only imagine how clammy his hand feels. He looks
similar to Evan, but redder, blonder and chubbier.

“Hey. I’m Evan.” He gives me a hug. Whoa
there cowboy. He doesn’t notice my hesitation. “Would you like a
soda or something? We’ve already ordered a pizza.”

“Thanks, dude. I’ll have a Coke,” Rainy
says.

“Okay. How about you, Autumn? Would you like
something?”

“Uh, yeah. But I can totally pay for
myself.”

Rainy rolls her eyes.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Please, allow me,” Evan
says.

“Yes, allow him.” Rainy mimics Evan’s tone,
but with sarcasm.

I sigh. “I’ll have a root beer. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

I follow Evan to the counter. “What kind of
pizza did you get?”

“Pepperoni?” It sounds like a question. “I
hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s my favorite. I’m glad you
didn’t get veggie.” Vegetables initiate the gag reflex. Grams hates
when I barf vegetables every time she cooks them.

The server steps to the counter. “What can I
get you?”

“We’d like three Cokes and a root beer,
please,” Evan says.

He turns to me. “So, have you ever been here
before?”

“Yeah. My grandparents used to bring me here
all the time when I was younger. I haven’t been here in a while
though.” I pause. “How ‘bout you?”

“This is my official first time.”

“Okay? Was there an unofficial first
time?”

“Sorta. Last week, remember?” He raises an
eyebrow.

“Uh, nope. What do you mean?”

“Last Friday, when we were supposed to meet
here.” His eyes shift to the table and then back to me. “You were
in a fender-bender on the way here and didn’t have a cell phone?”
He pauses. “Why do you look confused?”

I’m going to kill her. “Oh, yeah…yeah. That’s
right. Psssh. How could I have forgotten that? It’s been a long
week, I guess.”

We carry the sodas to the table. Rainy and
Caleb stare at everything but each other.

“Don’t you two look cozy.” I kick Rainy in
the shin as I sit down.

“Ow! What’s that for?” She bends to rub her
leg.

“Sorry. Accident. I need to use the bathroom,
wanna come with me?”

“Do I have to?” she asks.

I glare. “You bet.”

She rolls her eyes and climbs out of the
booth, as slow as a slug in the sun.

“What did you do?” I open the restroom door.
We enter into a wall of Lysol and urine air.

Rainy waves her hand in front of her face.
“Do you have to pee or what? Hurry up.”

“Don’t you think I should know if I was in a
fender-bender?”

“Okay.” Rainy nods as if understanding just
smacked her. “Get this, we were so gonna go out with these guys
last week, but I forgot. No biggie. I didn’t want them to feel bad
or nothing, so I made up the fender-bender deal.” She shrugs.
“Sorry for not telling you. Do you forgive me?” She looks at me in
the mirror with please-don’t-kill-me eyes.