Raven Stole the Moon (4 page)

J
ENNA PULLED THE ULTIMATE DRIVING MACHINE OUT OF THE
garage in the Landises’ apartment building and onto First Avenue. Big, black BMW 850i super-car with ninety-two cylinders and automatic everything. One time Robert clicked his alarm button-thing and all the windows and the sunroof opened and wouldn’t close. Computer malfunction. He had to drive it downtown to have them hook it up to the Mother computer to see what was wrong. Mother said it was a faulty chip. Twelve hundred bucks. Well, when you’re spending seventy grand on a car, you have to figure a chip would cost twelve hundred. Jenna had a 1987 Volkswagen Jetta. Guess which one went in for service more often.

Jenna guided the car onto University, which would take her up the hill to Broadway. Another left and she’d be home. Robert and Jenna had a very beautiful old house on Capitol Hill with vintage leaded-glass windowpanes. That’s what Jenna liked about it. Leaded glass. The architecture of Seattle has got a lot of charm in certain areas, and Capitol Hill is one of those areas.

At a red light, Jenna turned on the radio. It was on an AM station. She could tell by the faint whistling in the background, the sound of radio waves through air. Two excited voices with Boston accents jabbered away about how to flush a carburetor. Carbon buildup? Blow it out. What are you turning right now? One-twenty? Your head won’t last another year. She left the car show on. There was something comforting about these guys who were so passionate about their engines.

As she drove through town, Jenna tried to imagine what Robert would say when he realized that his car was gone. Would he realize that Jenna was gone first, or the car? She had his wallet. He’d have to borrow money to take a cab home. Maybe he’d pretend nothing happened, that Jenna left to go to sleep and accidentally took his wallet with her. That would be good. Saves any kind of public disgrace. But maybe Robert’s too drunk to think that one up. He might fly into a rage. No. Even drunk he knew better than to make a scene at a party. Someone might see.

Jenna remembered that she had five boxes of mints on the seat next to her. She reached down to tear the cellophane wrapper off one, and when she looked up, she realized she had gotten caught in the freeway entrance instead of staying on University. Unless she backed up down the one-lane chute, there was no way out. A car was coming up behind her so she had to keep going. She’d have to take the exit for Montlake and come around the back way.

As Jenna accelerated into traffic, she was startled by a beeping that sounded like a laser gun being fired at an alien spacecraft in a video game. Radar detector. She looked in the rearview mirror. Nothing. She wasn’t even speeding. They make these cars like video games so the men can be entertained. Gleep-gleep-gleep. Incoming! Two o’clock high. Dive, dive! She moved into the right lane.

The two car guys kept talking. What a pleasure it is to be on the open road. Everyone should go for a drive. Get your car fixed up, take it out. Cars like driving. It’s like taking your dog to a field and throwing the ball for him. They love it. And you should take care of your car like your dog. Take it out for a weekend drive. Driving is one of the only remaining pleasures in life. Turn off your car phone, put on some music, and let your hair down. You’ll feel better, mentally. Any problems you may have will seem like small problems. It’s very therapeutic, driving. Better than yoga, because it doesn’t hurt as much. Good night, everybody. Good night, all. Jenna turned off the radio and passed her exit. She kept driving north.

J
ENNA HAD EATEN
about half the box of mints without thinking and she really needed to brush her teeth. It had been an hour since she’d gotten on the freeway, and she hadn’t yet turned around and headed for home. The car was purring along at eighty. It was true: it liked going for a ride. And Jenna did feel much better, like the car guys said. She felt relaxed and not a bit tired, even though it was already a quarter to two. She hadn’t thought about Robert once, and she wondered if he had thought about her.

Gleep-gleep-gleep. The video game went off again. Jenna eased off the gas and let the car coast down to sixty. There were no cars on the road. Where did the radar come from?

Suddenly blue lights flashed behind her. Her heart jumped. The radar beeper was going nuts. Gleep-gleep-gleep. She slowed down and pulled over.

A cop holding a flashlight walked toward the car with his hand on his gun. Jenna turned and opened the door.

The cop jumped forward, jerked his gun out of his holster, and kicked the door shut in Jenna’s face. He pointed the gun through the window at Jenna’s head. Jenna’s eyes went wide. She put her hands in the air. He gestured to her with the gun. He wanted her to roll down the window. Jenna looked around for the button. It seemed to take forever to find it. The window whizzed down.

“The proper procedure when being pulled over, ma’am, is to roll down your window, turn on your cab light, and place both hands on the steering wheel.”

Jenna nodded quickly.

“Will you please turn on your cab light, ma’am?”

Jenna, frightened, looked up at him. She didn’t know where it was. She glanced around the cabin. The radar detector was still beeping madly.

“Will you please shut off that radar detector, ma’am?”

“It’s my husband’s car. I don’t know—”

“Above the rearview mirror, ma’am.”

Jenna looked up and saw the light. She turned it on.

“The detector is on the console next to the shift, ma’am.”

She reached over and turned off the beeper.

“Do you realize you were speeding, ma’am?”

“I guess so. It’s my husband’s car and I’m not used to it. My car makes a lot of noise when it goes over fifty-five. This one’s real quiet.”

The cop smiled. He put his gun away. That’s a relief.

“Sorry if I frightened you, ma’am. Officers have been shot on this highway in the past. You can’t be too careful when approaching a car at night.”

Jenna nodded.

“Where’re you headed, ma’am?”

“I’m going home.”

“Where’s that?”

“Seattle.”

“You’re going the wrong way. Seattle is south of here.”

Whoops. Busted.

“Been drinking, ma’am?”

“No. My husband and I . . . we kind of had a fight and I wanted to get away.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No, but—”

“Did you think he was going to hit you?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” Jenna tried to explain. “It’s really complicated. I wanted to get away, that’s all.”

“Ma’am, you have some food on your mouth.”

Jenna looked at him, confused. She glanced over in the mirror and saw some chocolate smudged around her mouth. She wiped it off with her hand. Did the cop see her blushing? That’s embarrassing. Jenna laughed. The cop smiled.

“Campfire Girl mints. Want one?”

“No thanks, ma’am, not while I’m on duty.”

They laughed again. He was kind of cute. Don’t women have fantasies about men in uniforms?

The phone rang. As if this already weren’t the speeding ticket from hell. The phone was ringing. Christ. Jenna looked over to the cop and shrugged sheepishly. It kept on ringing.

“Do you want to answer it?”

“It’s probably my husband wondering where his car is.”

“I don’t blame him. Why don’t you answer it and tell him you’re safe.”

Jenna nodded and picked up the phone from the console. It was Robert, all right.

“Jenna, where the hell are you?” he screamed into the phone.

“I’m in the car.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I called you.
Where?
”

“I’m safe. I wanted to clear my head. I’ll be home soon,” Jenna said, glancing up at the cop and smiling sheepishly.

“Why did you leave me at the party? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m safe. Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.”

She hung up on his next question and looked back over at the cop. Late night on the highway with a cop. This would make a good porno flick. Officer, I’ll do
anything
to get out of a ticket. Just
anything.

“Ma’am, I’m going to let you go with a warning. You pay attention to the speedometer from now on, not the vibrations of the car, okay? And you get yourself home or check into a motel if you don’t feel safe, understand? This is a dark stretch of highway to be on at night.”

He stepped away from the window.

“Yes, officer. Thank you.”

He turned and started back to his car. Jenna watched him. She stuck her head out the window and called out.

“Officer? Are you sure you don’t want a box of mints? They’re good.”

He stopped and turned. He had a pretty profile and a pretty smile. His name was McMillan. His name tag said it. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am, but thanks for the offer.”

He got into his car and turned off the flashing blue lights. Jenna shifted into drive and pulled back out onto the road. The phone rang again. She didn’t answer it, but when it stopped ringing, she imagined a computer-generated voice that picked up.

“We’re sorry, the cellular phone customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. You may leave a message by pressing one . . . now.”

S
HE GOT OFF THE FREEWAY IN BELLINGHAM FEELING TIRED
and hungry. She pulled into a gas station to get some fuel for the Machine, and she picked up some Corn Nuts and a Coke—fuel for herself. This trip suddenly had the feeling of an all-night drive. Standing under a canopy of fluorescent bulbs. Artificial sunlight. Electrified reality. Everyone would be asleep if they weren’t plugged in.

Jenna inhaled the heady fumes as she watched the numbers tick by. There’s something about the smell of gasoline that’s comforting. Maybe it’s that gas always smells the same, no matter where it is. Or maybe it’s that the smell of gasoline represents man conquering nature. Digging deep down into the crust of the earth, pumping black goo up to the surface, cooking it in aluminum containers so it can be used in a BMW. The evolution of Man smells like gasoline.

It was two thirty and Jenna headed into downtown Bellingham not really knowing what her next move would be. Home or a Days Inn? As if to answer her question, signs directed her toward the waterfront. It was a running theme. Brand-new blue signs telling everyone that they would find what they wanted at the waterfront. So, Jenna followed the signs, finally pulling over on Harris Avenue, about a block away from her assigned goal. She could see that there was some life on the piers; there’s always life on a waterfront. Boats coming and going, loading and unloading. But she didn’t go any closer. Not because she didn’t want to. She definitely wanted to explore the waterfront. See what all the signs were talking about. But she was a little afraid to wander around down there by herself. She would have to wait for morning to explore.

She reclined the seat a bit, opened the Coke and the Corn Nuts, and laughed to herself. So this is the road trip you never took?

You’re supposed to do this in college. Get in a car and drive. Sleep in the car, eat junk food. Jenna felt a little young to be recapturing the lost moments of her youth.

Her eyes got heavy and she yawned. A street sign in front of the car pointed straight ahead to the Alaska State Marine Highway, the ferry system that connected Alaska with the lower forty-eight states. Jenna had forgotten it was in Bellingham. Gram used to take the Alaska State Marine Highway back when it left from Seattle. A blue ferry with the Alaskan flag on the smokestack—the Big Dipper and the North Star. The
Columbia
was the name of one of them. Gram would sit in a big chair in the lounge for the three-day trip. She loved it. She would talk to people nonstop, making new friends, listening to other people’s lives. Gram never took a plane until she went up to Wrangell for the last time. They had to take the backs off the seats because she was on a stretcher. Jenna wasn’t there, but she could imagine it.

They had cut off Gram’s foot. She had gangrene and they had to amputate. She was also riddled with cancer. That’s what the doctor said. She had lived with a lot of pain for a long time. Jenna imagined her organs full of holes. Jenna wheeled her around the floor of the hospital. Just to go for a ride. She yelled out, Hey, Man! Hey, Man! Mom said she was calling for God. Asking Him to take away the pain. Hey, Man. God was Man. Man smells like gasoline; God smells like hospital disinfectant. There were so many old people, all of them in pain. All of them drugged to delirium. One doctor said they would have to cut her leg off at the thigh. Jenna’s mom said no. The doctor told them it was less than a fifty percent chance she would come out of anesthesia. Probably wouldn’t stop the gangrene and she might not come out of the surgery. She might go to sleep and never wake up. She was ninety-six. She had led a full life. Mom said if the doctor wants to euthanize her, he’s going to have to forget it. No doctor is going to put my mother to sleep like a dog. Hey, Man, please stop the pain.

Gram wanted to go back home to Alaska. Everyone thought it was stupid but Mom. Mom said she knows she’s going to die and she wants to do it at home. Who would deny her that? The woman’s been living in the same house for ninety-six years. All eleven of her children were born in that house. Her husband died in that house. Why in hell shouldn’t she be allowed to die there?

So they put her on an airplane and she made the trip. She died about nine months later. In her home.

W
HEN
J
ENNA AWOKE,
it was six o’clock and the sun streamed in through the back window of the car. She brought the seat back up to its upright and locked position and climbed out of the car. Her back was stiff and she stretched, breathing the clear morning air. She spied a Starbucks across the street and headed to it.

Jenna sat at the long counter that looked out onto the street, drinking a coffee and eating a muffin. People stood in line to fire off their orders. Super-tall-low-fat-no-foam-double-mocha-decaf-cappuccino-in-a-bag-no-sip-lid, please. Damn. How do people find out what they like? It could take years to narrow down the possibilities. And then, how do they remember? People coming in and shooting off orders to the girls behind the counter. And the girls remembering! It’s like a Greek diner. Double-D-mochachino-skinny-ixnay-on-the-oamfay-goin’-away! Yikes! Have an idea? Make a billion dollars.

A young hippie couple sat at the counter next to Jenna. Birkenstocks and backpacks. Just kids, probably eighteen or so. They seemed confused and anxious. The boy was furiously going through the girl’s backpack.

“It’s not in there.”

“Well, it’s got to be somewhere!”

“I looked. It’s gone. What are we going to do?”

The boy hippie scratched his head.

“Damn it, Debbie. It’s got to be somewhere.”

“It’s gone. I know I lost it. I know it.”

Debbie started to cry. The boy tried to console her.

“We’ll hitch our way up. The Alcan Highway. We’ll hitch a ride in a Winnebago.”

“Oh, Willie, I’m so depressed.”

Debbie cried more. Willie awkwardly held her.

Jenna realized that she was staring. She and Willie had locked eyes in kind of a glazy way, and it occurred to Jenna that Willie should make a face at her, try to get her to mind her own business, but he didn’t.

“How much is the ticket?” Jenna asked suddenly.

Willie was startled. He hadn’t been looking at her at all. He hadn’t even noticed she was there.

“What?”

“How much do you need?”

Willie looked at Debbie, then back at Jenna.

“It’s a little over two hundred dollars to Skagway.”

“I’ll buy you a ticket.”

Debbie looked up through her hair. Willie crinkled his brow and shook his head.

“Why?”

Jenna shrugged.

“Because you may never be back this way again. And if you miss the boat, your life will be completely different. And I can’t have that on my conscience.”

Debbie laughed a short burst and sniffed loudly. She smiled like an angel up at Jenna. Kids. Bobby would have done that one day. He would have gone with a girl on the ferry for a couple of months, getting off and on the boat in depressing little towns, eating crappy food, sleeping in tents in the rain. Having the time of his life.

The trio left Starbucks and headed down toward the ferry terminal. Jenna and Willie walking side by side, the girl trailing behind. It was warming up into another beautiful day. The waterfront looked crisp and colorful, the waves sparkling in the sun. Jenna smiled to herself when she realized that she probably looked like a crazy woman—dressed in a wrinkled black suit, with yesterday’s makeup on her face—offering to buy some girl a ferry ticket.

Willie led them into the ferry terminal, a vast, freshly painted room with a small counter against one wall. Above the counter was a huge logo of the ferry system. On other walls were murals of Northwest Indian totems. The room was lightly populated—someone slept in a chair, a family sat on the floor with their bags piled around them, a janitor silently mopped the floor in one corner.

Willie stopped and looked at Jenna skeptically. Debbie sidled up to him and looked at Jenna also.

“Are you really going to do this?”

Jenna nodded.

Willie looked at her for a long moment. He nodded, turned, and walked up to the woman behind the sales counter. Jenna and Debbie watched as he spoke and gestured. The woman took something out of a drawer. She filled out a ticket book. She calculated some figures. She spoke back to Willie. Willie nodded. He turned to Jenna and waved her over.

“It’s two sixty-five with tax.”

Jenna smiled to the woman behind the counter. She opened her purse, took out her wallet, and handed the woman a Visa card. The woman ran it through the machine and Jenna signed the paper. And that was that. Willie took the ticket and the three stepped outside.

“Thanks a lot. If you give me your name and address, we’ll pay you back when we get the money.”

Jenna smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Willie shuffled his feet. He thrust out his hand and Jenna took it.

“Well, thanks a lot, then. Thanks.”

He gestured to the big blue and white ship that was tied to the dock. Debbie looked up at Jenna. She seemed relaxed, relieved to have everything settled. Jenna reached out and touched her cheek.

“You kids have a good trip.”

Willie and Debbie headed off down the dock, toward a group of other young wanderers who were sitting on their backpacks, waiting for the loading to begin.

Jenna walked back toward the street. When she reached the end of the boat slip, she looked back. The ferry was nosed into the slip and its prow arched high out of the water. The
Columbia.
The same boat her grandmother had taken. The same boat Jenna was on when she was in high school and made the trip with her friend, Patty, and they stayed with Gram.

Jenna wondered what had happened to Gram’s house in Wrangell. No one lived there, she supposed. It was so old it had probably fallen down. On Front Street, down from the dock. A big old two-story house. The top floor had been closed off when Jenna and Patty went. It was too run-down, and Gram couldn’t make it up the stairs anyway. But Jenna hadn’t seen it since then. Seventeen years ago. She had wanted to stop by Wrangell when she and Robert and Bobby went on that fateful trip to Thunder Bay two years ago. But the trip was cut short.

Jenna checked her watch. It was seven thirty. She was suddenly taken with an impulse to get on the boat and go up to Alaska. See Wrangell again. Wander through the streets of the little town. Why shouldn’t she get on the boat, go on vacation to the place of her mother’s and grandmother’s birth? She could tell Robert she had to get away for a few days. He would understand. Well, he might not understand, but screw him.

Jenna chewed on the inside of her lip for a minute, looking out to sea, watching the gulls circle menacingly overhead. Then she abruptly turned and marched back into the ferry terminal and up to the ticket counter.