The Read And Weep Bundle: Anonymous, Perfectly Hopeless, Run (53 page)

I had been waiting my entire life for the moment that was now before me. The moment when I looked at her again, even if she was nothing like I had thought she would be after all these years. The way Aunt Wanda had made her out to be my whole life almost.

She was nice enough to le
t Mason and I stay at her house, my old house. She told me to get rest and that everything could be caught up in the morning.

Well, it was now morning and I was standing in her bathroom riddled with anxiety. I had played this moment over and over in my head. The moment I got to confront her for what my life turned into because of her one mistake. And now it was here.

I secured my hair in a ponytail and stared at my face in the mirror. I looked alright for the amount of stress I had been through over the past week or so.

Mason was still asleep. I expected him to sleep for quite some time after the drinking binge he had been on.

The house was quiet besides the old grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the dining room.

Sunlight warmed the house pouring through the windows at the front of the house. I looked around at the rich colors that decorated the walls and furniture. It was nice and cozy, it was a home.

“I can’t believe I’m here. Everything looks so…” I stopped talking when I laid eyes on my Mother. She was sitting at the dining room table, a big white coffee mug on one side of her. She was going through a box. As I got closer I realized it was a box full of pictures.

She furrowed her eyebrows, her expression was serious. She set pictures down in separate piles one after another, working hard at what she was trying to accomplish—I just wasn’t sure what it was she was trying to accomplish.

“I wanted you to see these,” she said as I took a seat at the table next to her. She passed a picture to me, I stared at the ring on her finger.

“Your ring is beautiful,” I said admiring the large diamond. She pulled her hand back touching the
stone, sadness rather than happiness filled her face.

“Kendall, I really want you to look at these pictures
with me. This is very important,” she said again, she didn’t want to talk about anything else. She needed me to see these pictures for some reason.

I nodded a bit confused as I looked at the first picture. It was me. “What is this?”

I was sitting at a table surrounded by a dozen people most I didn’t even recognize. Even Mason was there. Everyone was smiling and happy as they crowded around me. The hardest part about the photograph was the smile on my face—the one I didn’t remember.

I looked at her, she wiped at the tears silently falling from her eyes. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say.

“That was your fifth birthday. Do you remember that party?” She pointed at the picture, silently holding out hope that I would see the good times. I studied the photo closely, there was Aunt Wanda in the background a scowl pinned to her features like always, and one cigarette in between her skinny fingers. She was the darkness threatening the happiness in the picture.

“I don’t remember this,” I said returning the picture to the pile. I didn’t want to look at Aunt Wanda.

She dug through the box pulling out just the right one and handed it to me.

“What about this?”

There I was again, on a rocking horse. A Christmas tree stood tall in the background. Momma sat on the floor in red flannel pajamas, her hair swept up in a loose bun. She had the biggest smile on her face as she watched me. She was happy.

I scanned the photo identifying my uncles and again, Aunt Wanda. She was leaning against the wall a vacant stare on her face, her arm cross
ed, her sights set on my mother, and of course another cigarette.

I looked at my mom. She wiped her eyes letting out an uneasy laugh. I could see the pain in her eyes. It hurt her to know I didn’t remember any of these things. I could tell she had held out hope that I would after all these years.

Her face was so young. She wasn’t worn like Wanda. If she was supposed to be such a bad person I thought she would have. I thought it would have shown all over her face just like Wanda.

“I don’t remember this,” I said handing the picture back to her.

“What do you remember when you were here with me?” she asked.

“I remember the night I left. There were sounds coming from your bedroom. I was young, but I knew it wasn’t something I needed to see.” I looked away. “And then Aunt Wanda came barreling in the door threatening to burn the house down.”

“She was always so angry with me. Sometimes I didn’t blame her. But she was always so angry,” she said thinking back on her older sister.

I nodded in agreement. Aunt Wanda was full of anger—unspeakable rage. And I never knew why.

“Kendall, did you think she would?” Her face softened. Had this been the moment I had been waiting for?

“I was a kid. She put the fear of god in me. And you were always crying. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone. So I told her to take me,” I said, I was sucked back to that night all over again. Twelve years was a long time to be without someone important. I didn’t even remember her. I hardly knew if what memories I had were even my own. What was real and what was made up by Aunt Wanda?

I remembered the sound of that door screeching open and Aunt Wanda’s footsteps stomping down to her bedroom. She was ballistic as she banged on her door. I waited in my room for the noise to stop or get even louder. But my mother never came out. She kept right on with that man, ignoring Wanda’s crazy rant. Some parts of me didn’t blame her. Aunt Wanda showed up a couple times a week usually, how was she to know this time would be so different?

Aunt Wanda was
always so jealous of my mother, jealous and drunk. And that night she decided she was going to prove once and for all that Joy Ann wasn’t better. She was going to teach her a lesson by burning the house down. I was seven, but I wasn’t stupid. I was a kid, if someone said they would do something they did it. I didn’t want to see anyone hurt.  Nobody deserved to die.

So I climbed out of my bed and tugged on Aunt Wanda’s arm. I begged her to take me with her. And minutes later she backed down. She looked me over, probably weighing her options and soon she was yelling at me to pack my things so we could go. We were on our way. My mother was safe and I was on the highway to New Mexico with Aunt Wanda.

I never imagined the life ahead. And I never thought I wouldn’t see my old life again for twelve years.

Momma got up and went to the big picture window. “You can tell me how you feel you’re not going to hurt my feelings,” she told me.

“Why didn’t you come out of the bedroom that night? Didn’t you hear her?” I asked quickly. It was the one thing I wanted to know for years.

“I was sure it was like every time before. I thought she was there to complain about something that didn’t go her way. You know, with a man or something she was plotting. Wanda was always in trouble with someone.” Momma sighed.

“She hated you so much,” I told her.

She shook her head and sat back down. “She hated me so much she took my kid away for twelve years. Now, that’s hate. I was young. I thought that man in my bedroom that night loved me and you.”

I pursed my lips. “Did he?” I couldn’t remember who the man even was.

“Of course not, I was the girl who got pregnant by Leon. I was the laughing stock of Gusby. He left that night and never came back.” She frowned, looking away in shame.

I thought about love and how she probably was right. She was probably always sad because she was alone with no one to love her. She was alone with a child.

“Why didn’t you do anything? Your daughter was missing.” I didn’t want to be mean and upset her anymore then she already was but I needed to know the answer.

Her eyes filled with concern. She smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I called the sheriff. I told him that Wanda was the last one at the house that night. They knew our family. They chalked it up to a typical sisterly spat and told me that if it was Wanda she would bring you back home,” she explained.

She pulled something from the box of photographs—a worn out paper. It was more
than a piece of paper. It was proof my mom had done the right thing that night. She had tried to get me back. She tried to get help in finding me.

At the very top scrawled in sloppy handwriting was the words I never wanted to see. Domestic Complaint, not kidnapped, not missing person, it confused my disappearance at seven with a simple family hiccup.

I sighed. My entire life was taken away from me because nobody wanted to help my mother.

“Our family was always in trouble with the law. We weren’t good people. And then with the situation with Leon and they just didn’t care or have the means to fund a search for a poor girl from Gusby. Kendall, I’m sorry,” she said, crying all over again.

I stared around the dining room in shock.

We talked all the way into the evening. She wanted to know everything. All the things I had been through. She wanted every detail. I guess to her it helped. It was like giving her back all the missing pieces she was robbed of.

I told her about our travels. I made up stories of all the different places I saw. I concocted half truths about everything, saying it wasn’t always as bad as it really was. And that sometimes I was even happy. I even told her that I missed her and that I was okay.

I couldn’t break her heart, now that I was in Gusby and talking to her I could see her heart had already been broken a long time ago when she lost me. She wasn’t the awful person Aunt Wanda had wanted me to see. The person Aunt Wanda had brainwashed me to believe that she was.

It made sense why Aunt Wanda didn’t want me to go home. She didn’t want me to go home because the truth was waiting. My mom was young and irresponsible. But regardless of what would make most girls her age a bad parent, she wasn’t. She loved me. I wasn’t the awful mistake she made. I was the kid she wanted when Leon didn’t. She wasn’t perfect by any means, but she was my mother.

“I want to help you out. And I want you to know you and Mason are welcome to stay here as long as you need. We can go first thing in the morning to try and get this straightened out, if you want to,” she said.

We both stood up from the table, our bodies aching and weary from the long reunion.

“I think it’s a good idea, but what about Mason? I’m worried about him,” I said for the hundredth time.

Momma bit down on her lip. She touched my arm to reassure me that everything would be fine. She knew she couldn’t promise, but she was going to try. And knowing I hadn’t told the whole truth it was hard to believe her. Because even though she didn’t know the whole truth I did. And I was still scared.

“Mason is a good boy. And he loves you. And I can tell you love him. We will all figure this out together. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here before either of us knows it,” she said.

I crawled into bed with Mason. He was fast asleep. I wrapped my arm around him and smiled at the feel of his skin, of his warmth. It was reassuring.

“I think we will be okay, Mason,” I whispered in his ear.

He didn’t respond. I kissed his forehead and drifted off to sleep.

Dixie squealed with joy as Mason threw a ball around with her. She ran back and forth across the yard after each throw, squealing every time Mason pretended she beat him to it.

I couldn’t stop smiling as we all goofed around in the backyard. Mason seemed happier as well.

“Hey, Dixie, see if you can catch this,” Mason said, she clapped her hands happily her pigtails whipping wildly behind her as she ran. She was the cutest little girl ever, and I meant it. I had never met such a character, and she was related to me, that was even more amazing. My mom had done a good job with her. She was smart and full of life.

“So after all these years you find out Joy Ann was a good mother after all,” Mason said, he stepped back an lobbed the ball in Dixie’s direction.

“She cared. I know she wasn’t perfect, but it’s nice to know she did care,” I said plucking a dandelion from the ground.

Mason nodded, watching Dixie take a tumble as she chased after the runaway ball.

“I am happy for you Ken-doll,” he said emphasizing my name in a weird way like old times.

“What for, Mason?” I said, I pulled at the leaves of the dandelion.

“You weren’t disappointed. And from what I remember about your mom she wasn’t that bad. She always snuck me candy. I think the only thing she was guilty of was not keeping her legs shut,” he grinned at the last part.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, trying to remember anything other than screaming matches between her and Wanda and all the tears.

“It’s good, Kendall. It’s really good,” Mason said. He jumped catching the ball Dixie threw at him.

“What about your grandparents. Don’t you want to see them?” I asked. Mason had very few relatives. And he didn’t seem interested to see them.

Mason made a face. “Shit, Kendall.
It’s not a happy reunion when you come back worse than when you left. I don’t like to burden people,” he said, brushing the subject off.

I decided not to say anything else. It wasn’t my place to force him under the circumstances.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Mason
clutched the ball tightly. Dixie ran toward us to get it. He shot me a look right before she tackled him.

“Come on, Mason!” she squealed. “Momma said I can’t spit on you anymore.”

“She’s a smart lady then,” he said lifting the ball high above his head, teasing her some more.

“Just when I was starting to think you were a good guy,” she said crossing her arms.

Mason laughed dropping the ball. “You really think I’m a good guy, Dixie?”

“Yes. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you look like an angel. You have eyes like them. And their skin,” she told him, she rubbed at her nose.

Mason was confused. So was I.

“What angels have you ever seen that are half Puerto Rican?” he asked.

Dixie tilted her head to the side confused. She stared at him trying to make sense of what he said.

“What’s Puerto Rican?” she asked, the words coming out foreign and mispronounced.

“Basically Mexican,” I said in simpler terms for her to understand. She nodded understanding.

“I saw a picture at the grocery store. It said angels. And there was this picture that looked like Mason,” she said nonchalantly and then she took off after the ball.

Mason looked away, trying to make sense of what Dixie said.

“Who knows? She’s five. I’m sure any Mexican with light eyes reminds her of you,” I laughed.

But Mason wasn’t amused.

My mom hollered for us to get moving before the bank closed for lunch.

We sat in front of the bank in her car. She
kept her promise, she was going to give us some money to help us out seeing we were broke.

She applied some lip gloss in the mirror before she climbed out.

“I need to run into the grocery store and pick a few things up for dinner. Do you guys want to come?” She looked into the car at Mason and I, her blonde hair fell over her shoulders.

I started to undo my seatbelt, but Mason grabbed my arm stopping me. I raised an eyebrow confused.

“We’ll just stay here,” he said nonchalantly. My mom nodded helping Dixie out of the backseat and they were gone.

I twisted around to get a good look at Mason. I hoped it wasn’t something silly like getting frisky in the back seat.

“I wanted to check something out. Just humor me. It won’t take long,” he promised getting out of the car.

I followed him past the grocery store trying to figure out what we were doing. Mason took my hand. He was acting a little strange.

I stared at the bank’s doors. “Mason, why are we at the bank without my mom?”

He opened the door holding tight to my hand. The bell chimed overhead sending everyone’s eyes in our direction.

“Kendall you talk too much, shush,” he said.

“When I’m not getting answer I do,” I snapped.

Can I help you, sir?” The bank teller asked as Mason tugged me through the line cutting to the front. I apo
logized to the woman behind us, I wasn’t sure what had come over him.

“My name is Mason Vaughn. And this is a robbery,” he said as cool as a cucumber. As if it was no big deal. I couldn’t believe my ears.

The man’s face proved he was confused. Most bank robbers were angry or scary.

“Mason,” I said trying to hold on to my
composure. I tried to wriggle free from his grip on my hand. He wouldn’t let my hand go.

“Sir,” the man started, he blinked quickly growing nervous once neither of us cracked a smile and said we were only kidding around.

One man behind us tried going out the door. Mason spun on his heel. “No one moves!”

The man stopped in his tracks and held up his hands in surprise.

“Does this guy even have a gun?” Another guy asked.

I swallowed, hoping he didn’t. I looked at Mason.

“Of course, what idiot robs a bank without a gun?” he pulled one from the waist of his pants. “Now everyone have a seat.”

One woman with a baby burst into tears and dropped to the floor with the squirming baby.

“Is this your plan?” I asked angrily. Everyone kept their eyes glued to Mason’s every move.

“Shut up, Kendall,” Mason said.

My mom appeared at the window. She quickly made sense of the situation as she stared into the bank through the window. She was frightened as soon as she laid eyes on the gun Mason was holding. She threw open the bank’s door.

“Mason!” she yelled in disbelief. Nobody expected Mason to ever do such a thing. And I didn’t know what the point was. Dixie stayed behind her legs, peeking her little face out.

“Joy Ann I swear to you I’m not going to hurt her. Just take Dixie and go home.”

“I thought you were an angel, Mason?” Dixie said softly to Mason.

“No, I’m sorry Dixie that’s not me,” Mason said.

My mom looked at me unsure if she should listen to Mason. She had just got me back. “Kendall, what should I do?”

“Just do what he says. I’ll be okay. Mason wouldn’t hurt me. And please don’t call the police,” I begged her. She nodded and left quickly, clearly disturbed but she trusted me, for some strange reason she trusted me.

I knew she didn’t want to go, but there was nothing she could do.

The bank teller cleared his throat. “Sir, if you could please rethink what your about to do.”

Mason ignored him. “Everyone up against the wall.” He locked the door and took all the keys quickly barricading everyone inside in the matter of minutes.

“It would be in everyone’s best interest to be quiet,” he said. He was calm, calmer than I ever seen him before.

“Mason, this is nut,” I whispered. “What do you think this is helping?”

“Kendall, stop talking and sit down,” he ordered, ignoring even me now.

I scoffed growing even angrier with him. I was being treated like a hostage.

Mason motioned the female bank teller over.

“Miss, do me a favor,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said near tears. Her face was pale.

“Are you a good liar?”

She hesitated, shoving hair out of her eyes and shook her head yes.

“Good. I want you to pick up the phone and call the police department. Tell them
you’re being held up by some crazed lunatic. Tell them there are about fifteen hostages. Make it good because Gusby doesn’t always do their job,” Mason told her, he sat down beside me on the floor.

I shook my head in disbelief. “I
can’t believe you! Why would you do this, Mason?” I started to cry.

Mason threw his arm around me. “Kendall, calm down. I’m doing this for you,” he said kissing my cheek. He wiped my tears, not concerned that everyone was looking at us.

“How could any of this be for me?” I sobbed. I was sure now he had lost his mind.

I waited for him to say something. But that was cut short when the sirens filled the air and the police cars were pulling up one after another outside of the bank. Doors flew open, guns were drawn quickly, it was like a bad episode of cops.

I felt my freedom slipping away from me. Mason stood up. He helped me off the ground.

“Kendall, I love you,” he whispered in my ear. He got behind me and wrapped an arm around my neck, using my body like a shield. His body pressed tightly against mine.

“Mason, please don’t do this. I don’t want to be killed. They could shoot me,” I begged, pulling at his arm trying to get loose. Panic started to take over. It was no use he wasn’t about to let me go. I didn’t want to be shot, I didn’t want to die this way.

I wanted to go back to my Mom’s. I was hoping we had a way out of the mess we were in. I was confident that things were looking up for once. I didn’t understand why Mason didn’t feel the same way. Why we were now standing in a bank with the entire Gusby police force outside the doors.

We had been home for days and not a single word had been spoke about. No one knew.

“Sir, they want to talk to you,” the bank teller said extending the phone to Mason.

He moved us backwards and took the phone. “Yes. My name is Mason Vaughn…your correct,” he said. The room was eerily silent as Mason spoke to the officer on the other end as he signed his life away. “I am willing to let some of the go, yes sir.”

He pointed at the woman and the baby. She quickly scrambled to her feet, Mason watched her fight with the lock and quickly take off once she got it open. She was sobbing as soon as her feet hit the sidewalk outside of the bank.

“Alright, now I’m hanging up. Anything else you want to say you’re going to have to holler,” Mason said. He tossed the phone over the counter and focused on the windows.

“All the woman
you’re free to go,” he told everyone.

We were down to five men. I couldn’t believe what was happening. There was nothing I could do but go along with it. I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me. I was more afraid of him harming himself.

One of the cops appeared at the door. He showed his hands so Mason knew he meant no harm.

“Now Mason, what is it you want? If you can help us help these people we might be able to help you out,” he kept his eyes trained on Mason. I looked passed him to the guns, all of them fixed on us. Knowing one wrong move and I could be shot.

“My name is Mason Vaughn. I’m not sure if you’re aware of who I am, but I’m sure if you look it up you will see I am wanted in just about every state,” Mason confessed.

I closed my eyes devastated.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do remember you. I remember when you were little. I know your grandparents. We were just talking about you last week at church,” the officer insisted.

Mason’s breathing sped up, he squeezed me tighter. This upset him. I didn’t have to look at him to know this.

“Just look it up!” He yelled at the officer. He didn’t want to hear any heartwarming stories about his family.

“My name is Mark,” the officer said, he used his walkie talkie to tell someone else to look up the information, always keeping his eyes on Mason.

“Well, Mark. I want you to know this is Kendall,” he said, gripping my shoulder as he introduced me to the law. I cringed, digging my nails into his arm.

Mark nodded, his eyes taking a quick glimpse into mine before returning to Mason.

“I remember both of you,” Mark said.

“None of that matters,” Mason said. “Kendall is a hostage right?”

Mark raised an eyebrow in confusion. He licked his lips and slowly agreed with Mason. It would do him no good to disagree he was finding out.

“She doesn’t want to be here. She has nothing to do with any of this. She’s been with me for quite some time now. Always against her will,” Mason told him. It was so rehearsed, something he had planned. Probably for days even.