14
Carolyn got off the Greyhound bus in Paxtown and ducked into the restroom to wash her face, arms, and hands. She raked trembling fingers through her tangled hair, pulling it back over her shoulders. She didn’t even own a rubber band to secure it in a ponytail. Hoping no one would recognize her, Carolyn hurried out of the bus depot and walked quickly along Main Street with her head down. She felt people stare as she passed. She wanted to run, but knew that would only attract more unwanted attention.
She breathed easier when she reached the end of town. It was a two-mile walk to Happy Valley Road, but she had been walking for weeks. Exhausted, sweaty, she headed for Oma’s cottage. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be home from work yet. There was a car Carolyn didn’t recognize in Oma’s carport, but she didn’t answer when Carolyn knocked.
Carolyn didn’t feel she had any right to go inside without an invitation, not anymore. She went back to the main house and lifted the flowerpot. Mom still kept the key there. She thought about going in, taking a long hot shower, washing her hair, getting something to eat. But what right did she have to go into their house? She put the flowerpot on top of the key and sat by the front door. She was so tired. If her family didn’t want her, where would she go? She awakened sharply when a car came up the gravel driveway. The hedge had grown high, and she couldn’t see whether it was Mom or Dad. Footsteps crunched in the pebbles, soft footsteps. Mom. Carolyn stood slowly, heart pounding.
Her mother came around the corner, looking so familiar and professional in her white uniform and cap. Startled, Mom stopped. She stared at Carolyn and took a step back. Then her eyes went wide. “Carolyn?” Before Carolyn could speak, Mom dropped her purse and flew at her. Carolyn cringed, expecting a blow, but found herself in a fierce embrace. Uttering a sobbing gasp, her mother let go and stepped back. “I didn’t know it was you at first. You’re so… different.”
Different wasn’t the word.
“When did you get home? How did you get here? Where have you been? What happened? We’ve been-” She stopped abruptly, her eyes sweeping over Carolyn. She raised her hands. “Never mind.” She frowned in confusion. “Why didn’t you go inside? The key…”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay.” Mom spoke quickly. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Come inside.” She remembered her purse and went back for it. Holding her elbows, Carolyn waited just inside the door. “Come in.” Mom threw her purse on the breakfast counter and started to pull out the bobby pins that held her nurse’s cap in place. She headed for the back of the house. Mom always took a shower immediately after coming home from the hospital.
Mom stopped and wheeled around. She looked scared. “Don’t leave, Carolyn.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me!”
“I promise.”
Mom let out her breath. “Okay. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
A few minutes might be all her mother needed to change her mind about letting Carolyn into the house. And what then? Carolyn stood in the entry hall and raised her head. She caught her breath at the memorial wall in front of her.
An eleven-by-fourteen picture of Charlie in his dress blues smiled at her. Two small potted palms sat on either side of the elaborate gilt-framed portrait sitting on a shiny black table. The wall above was covered with framed photographs: Charlie as a baby, Charlie as a toddler on his tricycle, Charlie and Mitch standing by their bikes, Charlie and Mitch in their high school football uniforms, Charlie showing off his varsity sweater, Charlie in black cap and gown holding his high school diploma and scholastic award, Charlie in his Trojan football uniform, Charlie looking handsome in Marine greens. The pictures surrounded a glass-encased triangular folded American flag set against black velvet. Below it were several colorful military ribbons, a Bronze Star, and a snapshot of Charlie grinning broadly, arms flung around two Marine buddies, a bunker and palm trees in the background.
Carolyn’s throat closed tight and hot. If she lived a hundred years, she’d never get over losing Charlie.
The foyer felt warm, sunlight shining in from the skylight. She glanced into the living room. Everything looked exactly the same as the day she had left home: curved beige couch and oval birch coffee table in front of the wall fireplace, two recliners with a table, the television set.
“Carolyn?”
She turned slowly, steeling herself for whatever her mother might do next. She’d changed into blue polyester pants and a red, white, and blue polyester blouse. Her mother had every right to scream at her and tell her to go back to whatever hole she’d been hiding in for the past thirty months. They stood staring at one another, both at a loss for words.
Carolyn chewed her lower lip and gathered enough courage to speak. “Can I use the bathroom, Mom? Would you mind if I took a shower?”
Mom blinked. “Yes. Of course.” She pointed as though Carolyn might not remember the way.
Stripping off her tan leather jacket, tiered peasant skirt, and blouse, she stepped into the stream of hot water. It felt so good. She squirted Prell shampoo into her hand and scrubbed her hair. She lathered and scrubbed her body, washing until the water at her feet ran clear. Then she just stood and let the water beat down on her until it went from hot to lukewarm.
After drying off, she wrapped the towel around herself and found a toothbrush and Colgate toothpaste in the drawer. How long since she’d brushed her teeth? Her gums bled.
Gathering her clothes, she went into her bedroom. Nothing had changed in here either. She slid the closet door open and saw two dresses, a jumper, a few skirts and blouses she’d worn in high school, things she hadn’t wanted to take to Berkeley. She found underwear, faded jeans, and Charlie’s discarded purple and gold high school sweatshirt. He’d tossed it at her the day he graduated. “It’s all yours, Sis.” She could hear the echo of his voice.
The jeans hung loose on her hips. She found a pink belt in the closet and cinched it to the last hole, bunching the denim around her waist. The sweatshirt looked huge on her. She put her arms around herself, thinking of Charlie.
A brush and comb were still in the top drawer. Her scalp stung as she brushed the tangles from her hair. If she’d found scissors, she would have cut it all off, hacked it away in penance. It hung damp and limp to her waist, a curling mass of sun-bleached blonde. She couldn’t stop shivering. Ice ran in her veins.
Charlie. Chel. Both dead.
She went out to face Mom. Carolyn could hear the click, click, click of the potato peeler and followed the sound to the kitchen. Strips of potato peelings flew into the sink. Six naked white orbs sat on the counter. Did they have company coming to dinner? Mom glanced over her shoulder. “There you are. How was your shower?”
“Nice.”
“I put a roast on. Dad will be home in an hour. It’ll be a while before we can eat. Do you want anything now?”
“A glass of milk?”
“Help yourself.”
Carolyn poured a full glass and drank it without stopping. She felt Mom watching her.
“You look exhausted.” Mom bit her lip. She peeled another potato and then made a sound of disgust. Tossing the peeler aside, she scooped up the potato peels and dumped them in her compost bucket under the sink. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. Well, we’ll have leftover potatoes for a few days, I guess.” She gripped the edge of the sink and stared out the kitchen window. “Where have you been all this time?”
“San Francisco.” Light-headed, Carolyn swayed.
Mom had hold of her before she knew her mother had even moved. “Why don’t you lie down and take a nap? I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
Time for what? To face her father? Time for Mom to get over the initial shock of having her daughter show up on the front doorstep like a filthy stray cat?