Leaving Serenity (14 page)

***

In the summer of 1973, Jack and his old Army buddy, Eddie, left for two weeks in Ray’s paneled truck. I didn’t ask any questions. Deep down, I knew that I was better off not knowing what they were doing. Two weeks later, Jack burst through the door as I stepped out of the shower. He grabbed Beth’s old suitcase and started emptying the dresser drawe
rs. He threw me a quick glance.

“We gotta book, Babe.”

I was soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel. “Whatta ya mean?”

Jack looked clear-headed, and I’d never seen him move so fast. “I mean, we gotta split, and now!”

“Jack, I can’t do that. I’m supposed to
be at work in thirty minutes.”

I hardly recognized the desperate man in front of me. He threw a box of garbage bags at my feet and yelled, “Start packing!”

“Where are  we going?”

“Nashville, Tennessee.”

“What? Why?”

Jack let out an impatient, frustrated sigh. “Because the law is after me, that’s why.
I ain’t shittin’
y
ou, Babe! We gotta get moving!”

I didn’t think. I just followed Jack’s orders like a robot. We stuffed the black garbage bags and threw everything in Goldie’s trunk.

Jack slapped his hand on the dashboard and said, “We gotta split before Ray shows up.”

My fingers danced nervously on the steering wheel as I wondered what kind of trouble he had gotten into. “Jack, I can’t just leave like this. I have to tell Carlos that I’m leaving, and I have go to the bank.”

Jack swiped his hand across his face and slumped down in the seat. “Okay, but make it quick.”

Feeling hung over from the all night drive, I stretch out across Jack’s grassy grave and enjoy the warm sun splashing across my face. I close my eyes and remember a
nother all night drive in 1973.

Moving On

I hated quitting my job on the spot. I guess Carlos was used to working with people on the move. When I begged his forgiveness, he smiled, gave me a hundred dollar bill and said, “No problem.”

Thinking about Carlos’s kindness and generosity brought tears to my eyes as I walked into the bank. I looked at the cashier’s check for thirty-four hundred dollars and thought about the last time I’d closed an account to run away with Jack. Since then, his life had revolved around chasing a high and his sleazy friends. Jack hadn’t contributed a dime to our welfare since the day we left Serenity. The money in my hand was all mine.

When I got back to the car, Jack’s
whole body quivered as he thumped his foot on the floorboard. I didn’t know if he was shaking from nerves or from needing a fix. Whatever the reason, he was clearly in a tizzy from head to toe. I closed the car door and gripped the steering wheel.

“Jack, I don’t even know how to get to Tennessee. Why are we going there, anyway?”

Jack bit his nails and looked out the passenger window. “Uh, we’re supposed to pick up Eddie at the I-10 junction. He’ll show us the way.”

My head fell against the steering wheel. “Oh, God, that guy is such a creep! Does he have to come with us?”

Jack looked at his trembling hands and clasped them together. “Uh, he knows a place we can stay until things blow over.”

I tried to read his blank face. “What things?”

He stared at his hands and blew through his lips. “We got stopped on 95 just across the state line. The cop climbed into the back of the
truck
and started rambling through the boxes. We slammed the door and locked it. I ran like hell to the motel. Eddie said he’d wait for us at the I-10 overpass.”

I shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s not so bad. You didn’t hurt him or anything. What was in the truck?”

Jack squinted at the late afternoon sun. “We, uh, had a few hot hi-fis, TVs, a little blow, and some smack.”

I closed my eyes and moaned. “Oh, Jack.”

Jack pulled a rumpled cigarette from a crushed pack in his jeans pocket. “Ray’s going to be hotter ’n hell, when they trace that truck back to him. And Ray ain’t taking the rap for nobody.”

I shook my head slowly. “Ray and Eddie. Jack, you’ve got some sorry friends.”

He shrugged and lit the crooked cigarette.

I did the only thing I knew to do. I started Goldie’s engine and sighed. “Show me the way to I-10.”

Eddie
leaned against the overpass bridge, holding out
a
thumb
and a foot
in the air. Jack
pointed
. “There’s my man.
”

Every ounce of me wanted to breeze by the
bearded
man
wearing a wife-beater tee-shirt and ragged jeans.

Jack snapped, “
Slow down, Babe!”

I rolled my eyes at him and stopped the car.

“Yer late!”
Eddie
yelled through the open window.

Jack laughed weakly. “My lady here had to scrap up some bread for the trip, Man.”

A
stale odor of sweaty socks
,
or maybe dirty underwear
,
filled the car as he sl
id into the backseat
.
Eddie flicked his lighter at the end of a joint between his drooling lips. “That’s good, ’cause I’m broke, and this damn lighter is about out.”

My stomach lurched as I glanced over the backseat at Eddie’s
pasty skin and greasy hair
. I cranked the window down, hung my head outside, and took a deep breath. “Okay, guys, where are we going?”

“Straight up I-75, about nine hours,” Eddie called from the backseat.

I looked at Jack in disbelief. “Nine hours? For real, Jack? Are you sure that you want to do this? Why don’t we just go back to Carolina?”

Jack shook his head. “No can do, Babe. The law’s too strict there. Besides, me and Eddie already did time there. They’ll nail us, for sure.”

Eddy sucked on the low flame at the end of the joint. “Let’s get movin’, Sister.”

My eyes sent daggers through the sleazebag lounging in the backseat of my car. Claustrophobia, resentment, and fury set in as I merged onto I-75. I kept my nose poised toward the stream of fresh air blowing through the cracked window and tried to focus on getting us to Nashville. Jack and Eddie talked off the joint, recounting their episode of theft and running from the law.

The lights on the golden arches flicked off as I pulled into McDonalds. Disappointed looks crossed the counter crew’s faces when we walked in. Eddie ordered a chocolate milkshake. The big guy wearing a manager’s badge said, “Sorry, we’ve already shut the machine down for the night. Can I get you something else?”

Eddie leaped like a frog onto the stainless steel countertop. The look in Eddie’s wild eyes reminded me of Charles Manson
.
The manager stepped back when Eddie spat in his face.

“I said I want a chocolate milkshake!”

The man pointed at Eddie. “Look, mister, I’ll give you two minutes to get out of here, or I’m calling the cops.”

The man’s calm response made me wonder if he often encountered crazies at closing time.

Jack pulled Eddie’s arm. “Hey, be cool, man. Let’s go!”

Eddie slid off the counter and glared at the manager. Jack held his arm as we ran to the car. I slammed the car door. “What was that all about?”

Eddie slumped down in the seat and mumbled, “I just wanted a chocolate milkshake.”

Jack crushed an empty pack of Marlboros. “I need some cigs, Babe.”

***

Jack and Eddie stayed in the car while I ran into a convenience store at the next exit. I plucked three hotdogs from the carousel cooker. I piled the hotdogs, chips, drinks, ciga
rettes, and gum on the counter.

I smiled at the wiry black guy behind the counter. “Add five dollars worth of gas, please.”

“That’ll be ten bucks even.” He glanced at the ca
r
and then at me. “Look, it’s none of my business, but you might want to take the state road—license check up on 75.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” I said, as I loaded everything in my arms and backed out of the door. The man nodded. “Yeah, stay cool.”

Jack took the food from the car window. I pumped the gas and called back to him. “The guy inside said that we should take a detour—license check up on 75.”

Jack took
a swallow
from the can of Mountain Dew. “You the boss, Babe.”

I felt like I was traveling with two spoiled brats as I watched the gas meter roll.
Yeah
,
that’s right, Jack.
I’m the boss
whenever anything needs to be done
.

After the guys snarfed
down
the hotdogs and chips, they were lulled to sleep by the dark, winding country road. I compared the twists and turns on the dark, secondary highway to the turning points in my life. I relived my friendship with Kizzie and considered it a positive turn. I replayed the night I was raped, a bad turn. My first job at the Bluebird and getting Goldie were good turning points. Marrying Jack was neither
a
good nor bad turn, j
ust a straight road to nowhere.

My feelings of doubt started the day after we were married, when Jack confessed to lying to me. After that, confessions weren’t necessary
;
he just lied, and I believed. The more I believed, the deeper my resentment grew. I felt more like a convenience to Jack than a wife. He acted more like a child than a husband.

Wednesday’s words spun through my head as I weaved down the empty road.
As you believe, so shall it be. See it. Believe it. Make it happen.
Wednesday had the right idea. She made things happen and watched her dreams come true. More than anything, I wanted to hold the power of my own life in my hands. That’s all I had ever wanted, freedom and independence. Instead, I was trapped in a stinking car with two fugitives who depended on me to take care of everything. I wanted to see my life, believe in my future, and live my dreams. I didn’t feel in control driving down that dark road in the middle of the night. I looked at Jack and saw a bleak life ahead
of me, spinning out of control.

Finding my way through the spiraling highways of Atlanta, I was amazed at my first glimpse of city lights. When the silent Appalachian foothills gave me the creeps, I consoled myself by talking to Goldie. I stopped at a convenience store when the sun peaked over the Tennessee state line. I sat quietly, enjoying
the
scenery, a cup of coffee, and a glazed doughnut. The guys had slept through most of the trip. I wondered if they had taken something to knock them out. I stretched my legs, refilled my coffee, and picked up a map.

Jack stirred when I opened the car door. “Jack, do you want something to eat? We still have a couple of hours to go.”

He rolled over without answering. I glanced over the seat and cringed at the ketchup smeared on the backseat. I picked up the trash and emptied the ashtray. I decided to travel on and pretend they weren’t there.

I immediately fell in love with Tennessee’s soft, rolling hills that
seemed to go on forever. I thought,
I’ll never feel closed in here or tied down here.

***

Eddie stirred in the backseat after I’d passed a sign that said fifty-three miles to Nashville. He looked around and said, “Whoa! We’re almost home.”

“Yeah, the last sign said fifty-three miles to Nashville.”

He folded his arms over the back of the seat.
“We ain’t going to Nashville!”

I caught a whiff of his breath and
suppressed the retching feeling in my throat
. “What do you mean?”

Eddie grabbed a cigarette from Jack’s pack, lying on the front seat. He lit up and blew the smoke at my face. “We’re going to Rickets.”

I coughed and fanned away the smoke. “What’s Rickets?”

“Where we’re goin’! Ain’t that right, Jack?”

Jack’s groggy eyes slowly rolled open. “What’s all the racket?”

My eyes flashed at him. “Rickets! The racket is about Rickets.”

Jack laughed and lit a cigarette. “Well, Babe, you didn’t really think we were going to Nashville, did you?”

The speedometer needle moved toward seventy. I rolled down the window. Jack bolted up. “Whatta ya doin’? Roll up the damn window!”

The blasting air nearly took my breath away, but I enjoyed watching them scramble with the fire at the end of their lit cigarettes. “You’re suffocating me.”

“You’re suffocating me!” Eddie screeched in a high pitched voice.

Jack cupped his hand around the cigarette flame and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t be a bitch.”

             
I rolled up the window. “Where is this Rickets place?”

             
Eddie’s breath on my neck gave me the creeps. “Take the next exit, to the left, then thirty-five miles.”