Blind Squirrels (9 page)

I pulled into the parking lot
next to my apartment building.  The moon was full and bright as I climbed out
of my champagne-colored Accord.  I leaned against the car and stared up into
the sky hoping to spot a star.  Even at thirty-seven, I still wished on stars. 
The moon was a little too bright – or the stars were hiding – so I gave up my
search and wandered back to my apartment.

My old yearbook was still lying
on the coffee table.  I flipped it open to the back cover and then turned one
page back.  The page was empty except for one line and a signature.  Max
Savage.  I thought about the days that I had spent saving that page just for
him.  Olivia never believed that I would ask him to sign it.  Aurelia wanted to
believe, but, in the end, she doubted me, too.  Still, the signature was there
– the proof that I overcame my fears and finally approached Max on my own.

I turned to
Max’s photo and stared at it for a long time.  Then I lay back on my
overstuffed couch and flipped through the book – always returning to Max’s
photo – just like in high school.  I pulled the book up to my chest and folded
my arms over it.  The memories were flooding my mind, and I gladly opened the
dam...

Chapter 8

The year was almost over.  I was
going to be a sophomore soon, and Max would be a senior.  It had been a long
year, but I hated for it to end.

After Christmas vacation, Max was
riding the bus again.  He never mentioned the key ring or the letter.  It was
almost a relief.  I decided that I had moved way too fast.

In the ensuing months, I
discovered that Max wasn’t the only love of my life.  I became acquainted with
the music of Elton John, and I fell hopelessly in love with him.  It wasn’t the
same love I felt for Max, but it was love just the same.  My room soon became a
shrine to Elton: posters on the wall, albums on the shelves, and scrapbooks
devoted entirely to him.  I also became a walking Elton John encyclopedia, and
my wardrobe also reflected my adoration.  Elton and Max would both prove to be
a lasting part of my life.

During this time, most of my
encounters with Max were minor.  One of the more prominent stories involved the
school bus and Tracy.  It was one of those rare occasions when Max sat down
beside me on the bus.  Tracy decided to announce this to the whole bus.  Max
told her to sit down; Travis yelled for her to shut up.  She did neither.  Max
finally stood up and told her that he didn’t hit girls, but she might be the
exception.  Travis rushed over and said he wouldn’t mind hitting her one bit. 
I held back a giggle as Travis offered to hit Tracy for Max.  Max just clenched
his fists and returned to his seat next to me.  Tracy stuck her tongue out at
Travis, and the bus ride continued.  At our stop, Max stepped back and let me
go ahead, but when Tracy tried to go, he pushed past her.  She then tried to tease
me as we walked home, but Travis intervened.  It was clear that Travis liked
me, but he wasn’t pushing the issue.  Max’s thoughts were anything but clear.

The day we got our yearbooks, I
immediately reserved a page for Max to sign.  I told Olivia and Aurelia that I
was going to get his signature right away, before anyone could mess up that
page.  Soon, my book started filling up with signatures, but Max’s page
remained blank.  Every time I thought I would ask him, I would either chicken
out or something would get in the way.  Mostly, I chickened out.

A week – and then two – passed
without me approaching Max.  Olivia gave up on me, and Aurelia stopped talking
about it.  Finally, I broke down and let Olivia ask him to sign it.  Imagine my
reaction when he refused.  He told her that I would have to ask him.

Then one day while he was
standing alone at lunch, I mustered up all of my courage and asked him to sign
on that special page.  He was very polite to me as he took the book out of my
hand.  It took only a moment for him to sign it, and then he closed it and
handed it back.  I waited until he couldn’t see me before I opened it up and
read the inscription.

“To a very nice girl.  Hope
you’ve had a good year.  Max Savage.’77.”

He called me a nice girl!  Nothing
could ever take that moment away.  He liked me – I just knew it.  Now I just
had to pursue him a little harder.

Summer.  Magnificent summer.  And
at fourteen, I ruled the world – cruising around on my ten speed bike hoping to
get a glimpse of Max now and again.

Then, suddenly, everything in my
life changed.  My wonderful daddy’s lungs collapsed. Daddy had lived with
emphysema for over fifteen years, but I had never seen him hospitalized before.
Thirty-seven years of smoking was finally taking its toll.  The doctors were
able to save my father, but they sadly told my mother that he had only six
months to live.

My brother Rick – on emergency
leave from the Navy – flew in from Memphis with his wife Rebecca and their
three year old daughter Bridgett.  My mother moved into my bedroom, and our two
bedroom house was getting very cramped.  To complicate things, Mom and Rebecca
didn’t get along at all, Bridgett was a spoiled rotten brat, and Rick took
every opportunity to get away from home.  So did I.

After four weeks, Daddy was well
enough to go home, but he would have to give up his job.  For a man of
forty-seven, this was a grim prospect.  Nevertheless, Daddy took the news like
a trooper, and he was soon cutting up and acting like his old self.  Mom,
however, was becoming despondent and worried.  She knew that her four dollar an
hour job couldn’t sustain a family of three.

To further dampen Mom’s spirits,
Rick and Rebecca offered their own brand of help.  Rick was due for sea duty in
a little over a month, and Rebecca wanted to stay with us to help with Daddy. 
She would be receiving an allotment check each month that she would use to help
with our budget.  The kicker was that the offer wasn’t really an offer.  Rick
and Rebecca had already given up their apartment in Memphis, and Rebecca had nowhere
to go – except our house.  Out of concern for little Bridgett, Mom agreed to
the situation.

Rick stayed for three more days. 
Just before he left, he and Rebecca had another announcement.  Rebecca was six
weeks pregnant.  As we drove Rick to the airport, everyone was silent.  Mom
loved Rick too much to be angry with him, but she was livid with Rebecca.  All
of us were aware of this, and we thought it was best to stay quiet.  Mom was
crying as Rick waved goodbye.  I couldn’t help wondering if she was sad because
he was leaving or because he was leaving Rebecca.

By this time, we were well into
July.  In only four weeks, I’d be back in school.  My summer was evaporating. 
I hadn’t seen Max once.

One afternoon, I was playing tennis
with the garage door and listening to the radio when Bridgett wandered
outside.  I wasn’t much on kids, but Bridgett was a cutie.  Her hair was long
and chestnut brown, and she had big bright blue eyes.  Rebecca always dressed
her in coveralls and tiny blue tennis shoes.  She looked like a living doll.

“Are you lissnen to Lten John?”

“Not right now.  The radio plays
all kinds of songs by lots of people.”

“Lten John’s my favrit.”  I
taught her that, of course.  Then she burst into song, “Don’ go breakin’ my
heart...Don’ go breakin’ my...I won’ go breakin’ yer heart...”

“You like that song, don’t you?” 
I was very proud of my niece.

“Play it for Bridgett!  Play ‘Don’
Go Breakin’ My Heart.’  Please Aunt Kat.”

“Okay.  Let’s go inside.”

I took hold of Bridgett’s tiny
hand and led her into the house.  Rebecca was sitting on the couch with a glass
of Pepsi in one hand and a sandwich in the other.  She was watching “All My
Children” on TV.  Her stringy long blond hair was half covering her face, but I
could still see the blue eye shadow smeared over her eyes.  The clumped mascara
on her eyelashes looked like tarantula legs.  She had a small pink mouth molded
perfectly into a permanent pout, and her round nose had a dimple on the end of
it.  Thankfully, Bridgett got her looks from her father.

My mother had come up with a not
so wonderful sleeping situation.  Rebecca and Bridgett shared a twin bed in one
room, while my room now had a double bed for Mom and Dad and a twin bed for
me. 

Daddy spent most of his time in
my room, so Bridgett and I would have to play our records in her and Rebecca’s
room.  To pick up my record player and records without disturbing Daddy, I
tiptoed into my room.  Daddy was asleep on the bed.  I had sent Bridgett to her
room, but she had followed me instead.  She walked over to my bookcase and took
down a book and then hurried on to her room.  I wasn’t sure what book she had,
but it looked like my school yearbook.  I grabbed my record player and rushed
out behind her.

Bridgett was sitting on the edge
of her bed; my yearbook was open in her lap.

“Who is that?” she asked.  I
looked at the page.  You guessed it; it was Max.  A permanent bend in the
binder caused the book to inevitably open to his page.

“He’s a boy I know.”

“Do you likes ‘im?”

“I guess.  Yeah.”

“Me likes ‘im, too.  What’s ‘im’s
name?”

“Max.”

“Mmmmmax.  Max cute.  ‘im my
boyfriend.  Is ‘im Aunt Kat’s boyfriend?”

“I’d like him to be, but he
isn’t.”

“I thinked Aunt Kat loves Lten
John.  Her loves Max, too?”

At this point, I realized I was
talking to a three-year old.  “Hey, Birdie,” Birdie was my nickname for
Bridgett, “let’s go ride my bike.”

“Oh, boy!  Ride bike!  Yay!”

Fortunately, I had kept my old
green banana seat bike – my very first bike.  It was too small for me, but I
could easily push it around with my feet while Birdie sat in front of me on the
seat.  We circled the yard a few times, and Birdie was having a wonderful
time.  I stopped to get a better grip on her and noticed that Travis Cartwright
was riding his bike back and forth in front of us.  He smiled and I said, “Hey.”

“Is dat Max?” Birdie said.

“No.  Stop talking about Max.”

“I loves Max.  Where’s Max?”

Just then, Travis stopped right
in front of us.  “Hey, little girl.  You want to ride my bike?”  I stared at
him incredulously.

“Oh, boy!  Ride bike!  Yay!” 
Before I could stop her, Birdie was off my bike and heading for Travis.

“Birdie, come back.  You can’t
leave the yard.”  But she did.  She was up in his arms in a flash, and he rode
off up the hill with her.

Birdie was yelling, “Wee – ee –
ee, this is fun!”

Looking like a complete fool, I
ran after them.  “Travis, you’re getting us in trouble here.  Bridgett’s mom
doesn’t want her out of the yard.  Please come back.”

Maybe he didn’t hear me, or maybe
he wanted to get me back for all the times I had ignored his advances – but for
whatever reason, he kept going with Birdie right in front of him.  I ran behind
them as fast as I could, which, of course, wasn’t very fast at all. 

They were almost in front of
Max’s house when I had an idea.

“Birdie, you’re in front of Max’s
house.  Remember Max?”

Birdie squealed.  “Max!  Oh,
boy!  Stop, Mister.  Max is my boyfriend.” 

Birdie was struggling so much
that Travis had to stop.  He pulled over in Mason’s yard, but he still held on
tightly to Birdie.

“Let go!  Let go!  Max, save
Birdie!”  Birdie was realizing that she was with someone strange.  She was
right.

I was still three houses away
when I heard someone say, “I think you better let her go, Cartwright.”

It was Max!  He must have been
outside or something when Birdie called out.

“Max's my boyfriend.  Save
Birdie, Max.  Let Birdie go to Max.”

Travis finally relinquished hold
of Birdie when Max walked up to the bike.  “Look, Max, I couldn’t let her go. 
She was gonna run out into the street.  Here, take her.  I didn’t know she was
yours.  I was just teasing Kat.”

Max took Birdie in his arms, and
she fit there – comfy and snugly.  It was the only time in my life that I was
envious of a three-year old.  “Did you even think, man?  She could fall off and
get hurt.  She’s just a little girl.”

Travis put his feet on the pedals
and burned rubber.  As he passed me, he said loudly, “I’m sorry, Kat.”  Then he
disappeared over the hill.  I was alone with Max and Birdie.  Would he chew me
out, too?

“Aunt Kat!  Look, look!  Max save
Birdie.  Birdie love Max.”

“Does this belong to you?” he
asked.  His tone was definitely sarcastic.

“Yes, that’s my niece,” I
answered sheepishly.

“Hi, Max,” Birdie said.  “Me
Birdie.”

“I sort of gathered that.”  Max
was smiling warmly at Birdie.  “I think your aunt wants you back now.”

Birdie leaned out towards me and
I took her into my arms.  She squeezed her arms around my neck tightly – almost
strangling me.

“It’s time to go home, Birdie,” I
said to her.  Then turning to Max, I said, “Thanks.  I’m sorry about this.”