The Other Way Around (11 page)

***

Just then Tim shouts out, “TENS!!!”

“All right,” Jesse says. “I think there's a rest stop up ahead.”

“Tens is like ten minutes until you need a bathroom,” Tim explains. “Fives is like five minutes. And if you yell turtles, that
means it's an emergency and whoever is driving should pull over at the nearest good-sized bush or tree.”

This is good information to have. I flip ahead a few pages in the notebook and make a new list that I title
Useful Information
. I like to title things. Maybe because it seems to be an indication of something promising. I write down Tim's explanation for getting the van to stop when you have to crap. A few minutes later the bus pulls in at a gas station and everyone piles out to stretch their legs. Tim jogs off to find the key to the bathroom. G follows Tim, while Emily and Lyle walk over to a picnic bench. I lean back against the side of the van, trying to get my back to crack.

“I think I pissed Emily off,” I say off handedly to Jesse. “I feel bad.”

“Really?” he says and cocks his head to one side.

“Well, I feel bad if she's upset. But I don't really feel bad about arguing with her,” I clarify.

“Good,” Jesse says. “You shouldn't. Emily's got to learn that she can't just shout her opinions at people to make them agree with her. She can get really preachy sometimes, and more often than not, it has the opposite effect. She ends up turning people off to the things she's saying because the way she's saying them is so …” he pauses.

“In your face?” I offer.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he says. “Still,” he offers after a few minutes have passed. “If you think you might have hurt her feelings, it never hurts to apologize.”

“Yeah, I know.” I was kind of hoping Lyle was going to head for the bathroom so I could talk to Emily alone. “I really liked talking to Emily this morning.”

“I bet,” Jesse says.

I look up quickly to see if there's any hint of suggestion in his comment. But there's none. He simply gives me another ultra-sincere smile and then gestures to Lyle with a wave of his hand. “Hey, man,” he shouts. “Can you take a look at the exhaust pipe for me? I think I heard a clunking noise that last mile or so.”

I look curiously at Jesse. Did he read my mind? I walk casually over to where Emily is sitting and sit down next to her. I clap my hands together nervously, unsure of what to say. “I'm sorry,” I start. “I'm sorry if I was too sarcastic or whatever, and I pissed you off.”

“Thanks, Drew,” Emily says. She's twisting one of her dreadlocks back and forth between her fingers. “I shouldn't have gotten on your case either.” She sighs loudly. “Jesse says I can be too preachy, and it turns people off from what I'm saying.”

“I'm interested in what you're saying,” I say. “I'm just not sure I agree with it all. Not yet, anyway.”

“That's cool,” Emily says. “I respect that. You have to find your own path.”

“Well,” I say, wondering if that's something I'm looking for or running from, “I'm not sure that's exactly how I would put it, but yeah.”

“So we're cool?” Emily asks. She sticks her hand out to shake.

“Absolutely,” I say and shake it firmly. She holds on to it for a second and then gives it a little squeeze

“Good,” she says and lets go. My palm, where she squeezed it, is warm and tingly. Apologizing to girls I like. I make a mental note to add this to my list of useful information.

G comes back out of the bathroom, and we all drift back over to the van. We wait a few more minutes for Tim, and then slowly one by one we assume our spots inside the van. I take out
Into the Wild
again, but instead of reading I amuse myself by flipping through the pages and letting my finger land on a single word. This word will be a sign for what's to come.

The first time I get “polish,” but I can't figure out how to make a prediction out of that one so I flip the pages again. This time my finger lands on “pursuit.” Somehow that seems more meaningful, but before I can contemplate the full ramifications of this prophecy Tim is back and we're ready to roll.

“Dude,” he says as he climbs into the van, “Killer a.m. BM.”

“I'm sorry, what?” I ask, thinking I've misheard him.

“A.m. BM,” G repeats. “That's what he calls his morning dump.”

“Don't knock it,” Tim says. “I am, if nothing else, a killer pooper. Smooth and regular every day.”

“Your mother must be proud,” I say.

“Mama Lin knows, man. She's the reason for all this fine peristalsis.”

“Yeah, and the reason I can't breathe through my nose at night,” Lyle snaps.

“Dude, you're just jealous because you're so stopped up. Maybe if you'd let go of some of your anger, you could let go of those hard little pellets you're hanging on to.”

It goes on like this for the next twenty minutes. It's definitely the longest, and maybe only, conversation about pooping that I've ever been privy to. Even the girls get into it. Emily claims of course that even though vegetarians fart more, their farts aren't as smelly as those of meat-eaters. I try and imagine
any of the girls at St. Mary's having this kind of conversation, but I can't. It would be like one of those weird Chinese lip-dubbed movies that come on late at night. It's refreshing in a really weird way. What's even more refreshing is that I haven't thought about Mima or Mom or any of the mess back home for at least a couple hours.

Lunch is in the van, more peanut butter and jelly, and we roll into Rochester around three in the afternoon. Jesse finds a spot for the van in a little park down by the Genesee River. It seems like it would be a nice spot to hang out in the summer. Right now, its only inhabitants are a few homeless people wrapped in blankets or sleeping on the benches. I look at them curiously. There are no homeless people in Glens Falls, none that I'm aware of, anyway. And whenever I saw them in Boston, I just kind of thought of them as a feature of the city. But there's this one guy curled up on a bench, a heavy vinyl-wrapped bike lock connecting a shopping cart to one ankle. I wonder what his path in life was, or if he ever had one.

No one knows the area too well, so we split up to scout places to perform and possible food sources, aka dumpsters. “Come on, Andrew,” G says as Emily walks off with Lyle and Jesse heads off with in the other direction with Tim. G and I wander around the downtown area, crossing streets and strolling the sidewalks with no particular agenda. Emily was right about one thing; there are a lot of people out shopping. We're possibly the only ones not laden with bags and boxes. Behind
a Finagle a Bagel store, G harvests a couple of bags of day-old bread and pastries while I stand guard. I'm glad I don't have to go back there and root around quite yet. I know it's hypocritical when I'm eating their food all the time, but I'm not quite ready for the reality of where it comes from.

While I'm waiting for G, I turn on my phone. Only one bar of battery left and three new messages. The first two are from Mom. Nothing new, she's just checking in and hoping I'll call. In the second one she asks specifically what bus I'll be on so she can plan on picking me up. The last message is from Dad. He sounds annoyed and rushed. Hopefully he didn't have to disrupt his vacation too much to make this phone call. He tells me he thinks I'm being irresponsible and immature. At the end of the message he doesn't even leave a number; he just tells me to call my mother and get my ass back to Glens Falls. He doesn't even say anything about Mima. My eyes burn and my stomach churns. I shut the phone off again and shove it in my pocket.

“Do you miss them ever?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Your family.”

“Oh,” G says and stops walking for a minute to think about it. I shift nervously from foot to foot. I didn't think it was a big-deal kind of question, but I'm realizing a little too late that it might be. “Not really in a general way. But sometimes little things make me remember them—that they're out there doing all sorts of things we used to do together. And then I feel a little weird. Is that missing them? I don't know.”

After walking a while, G starts talking again and it takes me a minute to realize she's still answering my question. “Like
today. Seeing all these people Christmas shopping reminds me of how stressed my mom used to get around the holidays because my parents never had any money. I remember going over to this girl's house when I was in third grade and her mom brought us juice boxes and real Oreos with the name stamped on them. And that was like the first time I realized that juice didn't all come frozen in a can. When we had food in the house, it was always No Name juice and potato chips. Seriously, that was what the generic brand was called. For a long time I thought you really had it made if you could afford Tropicana and Tostitos.

“Anyway, so Mom would try and put some money aside so she could get us some kind of Christmas present, and inevitably my dad would get it from her one way or another. He'd tell her we were late on some bill or that he needed it for an investment.” G shakes her head. “So this one Saturday we were out shopping with my grandma and my sisters, and my grandma was pestering Mom about what she was going to get us for Christmas and Mom was trying to avoid telling her that Dad had once again made off with all her money. Grams thought Dad was a total deadbeat anyway. She loved conversations like these and trying to get my mom to admit that she married a total loser. So my sister Elise saw some jelly shoes in the store. They were like these rubbery slip-on shoes; totally useless in the winter. Anyway Elise started whining at Mom about how she really wanted them, and so of course my little sister started in on her too. And then Grams was saying how they were a really good deal, but I could tell that she just wanted to get Mom to admit that she didn't have the money.

“So finally my mom caved and bought us each a pair. I remember she said, ‘I should be able to buy my girls a pair of
shoes if I want to.' I didn't even want them, but she just told me to pick a color and I knew I didn't have a choice. When we got home I hid them under my bed so Dad wouldn't see and flip out on her. But it didn't matter. Elise put them on as soon as we got home and …” G drifts off and then suddenly looks up at me embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” I say almost a little too insistently.

G looks even more embarrassed. “I guess that's why I don't think about them too much. Most of the memories are like that one.”

I wonder what G sees when she looks at the homeless people sleeping on benches by the river. We don't talk a whole lot more as we scope out the Midtown Plaza as a possible performance space. It's busy now, but G is concerned that it will be too quiet after five o'clock. When we get back to the van, Jesse and Lyle announce that they've found a good spot. The Village Gate Square is a shopping area with artists' studios, and they're having an open house that evening. Jesse talked to a guy about performing in front of his gallery and the guy said it was okay.

“It's a lot more relaxing when we don't have to worry about getting busted by the cops,” G says.

“Right,” I say, like this is one of my everyday concerns too. By the time we get over to the Village Gate Square and park the van it's time to set up the show. Tim has enlisted me to hold the microphone while he films, so my job is pretty much taken care of. I watch as the rest of the group gets ready to perform. G uses a public bathroom to change, and when she comes out she's transformed. She's wearing red-and-white-striped tights underneath a black velvet leotard. A green velvet skirt completes the look. She's put something on her face to make it
whiter, and her cheeks have bright red circles on them. A few black freckles dot her nose.

“You look like a giant doll,” I say before I can think about whether this is a compliment.

“Yeah, that's kind of the idea.”

“A buff doll,” I say and poke at her arm muscles, which are clearly visible beneath the stretchy fabric. G smirks and leans forward into a bodybuilder pose. Lyle is wearing a similar outfit but has shorts that go over his tights. He's busy rigging up some ropes to hang from a streetlight. “Do you need any help?” I ask.

“It's kind of complicated,” he says without looking away from the knot he's tying. “I could probably show you some knots when I have more time, but tonight it's probably better if you just stay out of the way.”

I try not to take his brusque tone personally. “You can help me,” Emily volunteers from inside the van.

“Sure,” I say, and wander over, but not before I see Lyle scowl down at his knots. Inside the van, Emily is still getting dressed. I look away quickly when I see that her shirt is only partially pulled over her head.

“Drew, you're so sweet,” she says. “But I'm not ashamed of my body. Can you tie this in the back?” The back of her shirt has laces that pull together and make it clear that she's not wearing a bra. I try not to think about this too much. The sight of her naked back is enough to turn the twitch in my pants into a full on hard-on. Once she's dressed, Emily has me throw juggling balls at her while she spins the giant Hula-Hoop around her waist.

I'm not an expert on street performers, but I have to say I'm surprised by how good the Freegans' show is. Lyle and Emily warm up the crowd with a combination of tightrope walking,
Hula-Hooping, and juggling. Lyle moves with agility along a thick rope strung between two parking signs. He has several clubs that he's able to light on fire and juggle while walking back and forth. Meanwhile Emily keeps the hoop going; first around her waist, then her neck, and then out to each arm. A decent-sized crowd has gathered, at this point and they seem to be really into it, especially the kids. They all gasp when at one point Lyle teeters back and forth on his rope while keeping three torches going in the air.