County Line Road (2 page)

Jimmy watched three little kids playing catch.

“What do you think Linda did with that baseball?” Jimmy said.

Two of the kids tossed the ball over the head of the younger kid who kept reaching for it.

“Maybe she hid it,” Double A said.

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. He stopped drying himself with the towel. “In her car? Do you have one of those tools that pops open a lock?”

“I’m not giving you one of my screwdrivers to break into anybody’s car.”

“Maybe she stashed it in the house,” Jimmy said. “I know where to look. You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

As they headed home in Double A’s Cutlass, each was in his own thoughts. The yachts in the marinas, the high-rise condos and Intracoastal Waterway mansions faded behind them as industrial warehouses, used car lots, and row after row of terracotta tile roofs of the suburbs took their place. Double A rested his arm on the open car window, getting sunburned by the last of the sun’s rays streaming from a huge anvil cloud. The music from the radio played and mixed the languor of the day with anticipation for the night, giving them a feeling of immortality that said nothing could go wrong.

Double A’s Cutlass rumbled as it sat at a red light, waiting. On the corner was a tent displaying Fourth of July banners and selling fireworks.

“Those are the kiddie fireworks,” Double A said. “Jeff got the good stuff.” He paused and then said, “Hey.” He slapped Jimmy on the arm, waking him out of his doze. “There’s Jeff, talking to that new girl. He must have radar. He can find girls anywhere.”

Double A blew the horn and called out the car window, “Hey! Jeff!”

Jeff turned his attention reluctantly from a blond girl swiping a credit card at the pump next to a new blue Mustang. “Hey!” Jeff called out. “See you guys tonight.”

From the passenger seat, Jimmy sat up when he saw the blonde. “That’s the girl,” he said. He raised his hand and waved just as she turned her head to look right at him.

The light changed, and Double A pressed the accelerator and listened to the gears shift.

A row of bushes cut off Jimmy’s view of the girl.

“Hey, slow down. I’ve seen her driving around,” Jimmy said. “I hope he invites her to the party.” He felt embarrassed when he heard the eagerness in his voice, sounding just like Double A talking about Anna. Jimmy normally kept his cool, but for some reason this girl seemed different to him. When he’d seen her drive past, she never looked at him but was focused far ahead as if she were looking at something on the horizon, a glimmer of something just out of reach. He wondered what it was.

“Knowing Jeff, he already did invite her. He’s probably hitting on her, too,” Double A said. “You know her?”

“Not yet,” Jimmy said, craning his neck to see her through a row of barricades marking a turn lane under construction. “I’ll kill Jeff if he tries anything. Damn it. Look, she’s leaving. Follow her!”

“She’s going the opposite way,” Double A said. “Damn this paving.” His Cutlass bumped over the line between the paved lane and the torn up section that was scraped for repaving. The tires hummed loudly. “I wish they’d finish this. I don’t want any junk on my car.”

“Oh, man,” Jimmy said. He wrenched himself around in the seat to watch her disappear down the road.

“There’s a cop anyway,” Double A said. The tires bumped against a cut in the pavement, jolting them in their seats. The construction zone ended, and the tires rolled quietly atop the smooth pavement.

“I wonder if she’ll go to the party tonight,” Jimmy said, slumping back into the seat.

“You sound like me,” Double A said.

“Shut up and drive.”

Double A laughed at him and gunned the engine. The front end of the Cutlass rose up, and the car launched forward with a roar.

Later, inside a furniture store called Miami Decor, Allison sat alone in the middle of a big, brown leather couch, flipping her Mustang keychain back and forth across her bare thigh. As she waited for her mother to finish the delivery details with the salesman, Allison thought about the guy in the car she’d seen. Maybe I will go to that party Jeff told me about, Allison thought, maybe that jogging guy will be there. I think that was him in the car Jeff waved to.

When her mother finished, they left the store through the sliding glass doors, and the heat outside blasted Allison like hot air from opening an oven.

“Ugh,” she said, putting her sunglasses on. “It’s so hot here. Couldn’t we have moved someplace cooler?”

“You know your father got a good job here,” her mother said. “What are you complaining about? You just got a new bedroom set.”

“Thank you,” Allison said as she clicked the remote to unlock her blue Mustang. They got in quickly, and Allison turned the air conditioning on full force. “It’s boiling in here. I should have parked in the shade, if there were any in this state.”

Allison backed up and raced out of the parking lot into traffic. Her mother gripped the dashboard.

“Slow down, Allison, or your father will take this car away.”

They didn’t talk for the next 15 minutes or so until Allison had to ask for directions. “Is it this street or the next? They all look alike to me here.”

“This one,” her mother said. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” her mother said. “I swear, Allison, ‘nothing’ must be your favorite word. You’ve been moping around since we moved. Except for meeting Cassie next door, you do nothing.”

“There’s nothing to do,” Allison said.

“Didn’t you just get invited to a party by what is his name, Jeff?”

“He’s just trying to –” Allison paused. She almost said ‘get me in bed’ but she thought that wouldn’t be good to say to her mother. “He just wants a lot of girls there so he feels popular or something. Cassie told me about him.”

“It’s too bad she’s away now,” her mother said. “Turn left here. No, here!”

Allison braked and made a hard right turn. The car handled it fine, but her mother didn’t.

“Damn it, Allison.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Once at their house, her mother got out to check the mailbox, and Allison parked in the garage.

Her mother walked through the kitchen behind her, sorting through the letters. She dropped all but one and tore it open.

“These damn people,” she said.

“What?” Allison said. She heard a different tone in her mother’s voice, not typical aggravation, but a cry that caught in her throat.

“I wish they’d stop sending these,” she said and tossed the letter in the trash can. “If they’re going to follow us here, at least get it right. I told them already.”

Her mother stormed out of the kitchen.

Allison picked out the letter and read it. It started, “Dear Michelle, …”

Allison skimmed rest of the letter. The Special Olympics was inviting her sister, Michelle, to participate in the track and field events again this year.

They still hadn’t updated their records since Michelle died a year ago.

Allison folded the letter carefully and tried to put it back in the envelope her mother had torn. The letter wouldn’t fit. Allison ripped the envelope and letter in half and then again. Then she tore the return address label into shreds until she couldn’t read the Special Olympics name or logo. She threw the pieces in the trash.

Allison opened the fridge and grabbed one of her dad’s beers. She stared at it a minute, feeling it cold in her hand. She put it back.

She went to her room and looked out the window. A Blue Jay sat on a nearby branch, looking right at her. Allison didn’t know why, but the bird surprised her. The way it was looking at her, it seemed like it had something to tell her.

Allison pulled herself together, thinking it was absurd that a bird would talk. “I gotta’ get out more,” she said and shut the window blinds.

No one was home when Jimmy got back from the beach. No cars in the driveway, no TV sound when he walked in the door. He stood for a second to listen, and then announced he was home loudly. Nothing. He felt relief, but then a pinpoint of tension began to rise in his stomach as he started on his mission – looking for the baseball. He searched the hall closets and the kitchen cabinets above the refrigerator, even though he figured it probably wasn’t there. He was working up the courage to go where he knew he needed to look.

He stopped in front of the closed door to his father’s and Linda’s bedroom.

As a kid, he never went in his parent’s room. The one time he’d taken coins from his father’s dresser for the ice cream truck, his father caught him and yelled at Jimmy so badly, he almost peed his pants.

He was only 6 years old then. Jimmy remembered the feeling of fear now as he stood in front of the bedroom door. Then he remembered this was not his parents’ room; it’s only his father’s and Linda’s. And she was trying to ruin his life.

He took a deep breath and tried the doorknob.

It turned.

He opened the door and paused to listen. He couldn’t help feeling like a scared kid again, so he told himself to get a grip. He left the door open behind him and went in.

The room was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The blinds were closed, allowing only an amber haze to permeate the edges of the window.

The bed was perfectly made. He stooped and lifted the bed skirt to look under the bed.

Nothing.

He zeroed in on the closet as if following a radar scan, feeling like one of those machines from the Terminator movies. When he flipped on the light inside the walk-in closet, he stopped. The two sides of the closet ran in straight lines to the back, rows of clothes hanging neatly, one side his and one side hers, and on the top shelves, boxes piled to the ceiling.

He started with the boxes above Linda’s clothes and took down box after box of shoes. She had sandals, high heels, sneakers, everything.

“What the hell is she always bitching about money for?” Jimmy said as he opened the third box of sneakers; these were pink. “I’ve only got one pair – and I race – she does nothing but exercise her mouth.”

He sifted through vases and glass pictures frames, an empty jewelry box, and stacks of sweaters until he got to the end. On his father’s side was an old travel case from the airline that laid him off years ago. Jimmy hadn’t seen the name and logo for a long time since they went out of business. No TV commercials, no billboards, no paychecks. Jimmy remembered how his father looked in that uniform and how he used to want to be a pilot back then.

He moved some jackets aside and found hats. Baseball caps from pro teams, some still in the packages, and then one from his high school. It was Rich’s baseball cap when he was captain of the team. It still had orange dust on it from the field. Jimmy smelled it. A mixture of dirt and grass. Rich used to smell like that all the time. Now he just stunk of cigarette smoke, Jimmy thought.

Behind some t-shirts was another box. It was so heavy, Jimmy struggled with it. He got it down and opened it on the floor. The smell of his mother’s perfume hit him like a nuclear shock wave. It flattened him emotionally, and he had to sit down. There were birthday cards he and Rich had given their mom, photographs, and mementos.

Jimmy lifted out a stack of his elementary school drawings, revealing a heavy piece of plaster. He recognized it immediately. It was the hand stamp he’d made in kindergarten for his mom. He was so happy to see it, but when he tried to pick it up, his joy dropped. It was broken in half. How did it break? He didn’t remember that. And why was it here? How come his mother didn’t have it with her?

He turned the pieces over in his hands and saw the letters “my” written in his childhood scrawl. As he wondered if it was part of “Mommy” or “Jimmy”, he heard the kitchen door open.

He shoved the plaster pieces back in the box, covered them with the other things, and heaved the box up on his shoulder, panic rising in his stomach.

He heard keys drop on the kitchen table and the refrigerator open and shut.

He wedged the box back in place and shoved the t-shirts and hats in front of it. He slipped out quietly, closing the closet door without a sound. The next target was the bedroom door. He didn’t know who was home, but it didn’t matter. He skirted the bed and paused at the open door to listen.

It was quiet.

Jimmy ventured one foot out the door, and hearing nothing, he pulled his whole body through as if it were a force field in some science fiction movie. He escaped down the hall, aiming for his bedroom as if it were the light at the end of a tunnel. He ripped his t-shirt over his head, fearing it held the smell from the box, and threw it in his open closet where a row of trophies of runners looked down from the top shelf. He pulled a new shirt from his dresser draw so fast, the trophies there wobbled. He grabbed one to steady it.

“All that training sure is paying off,” Linda said from behind him.

“Shit, Linda, I didn’t see you,” Jimmy said.

“Well, I see you,” she said, smiling.

He wasn’t sure if she meant she’d seen him come out of her room or what. If she’d seen him, she’d already be laying into him, he figured. Unless she’s hiding it and will use it against me later, accuse me of stealing something else.

“You look just like those pictures of your dad when he was younger.”

Relieved, he busied himself with brushing his hair.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I just got home from the beach,” he said, hoping that’s what she meant. “I gotta’ take a shower.”

She still stood in his doorway, so he squeezed past her, turning sideways to avoid her. He retreated to the bathroom. He noticed she was dressed for work in her nurse’s outfit and shoes. She must have just gotten off work, he thought and was glad, hoping she’d be tired as usual and hide out in her room as she did most of the time after her shift.

“I bought your father a new Marlins shirt to take his mind off the baseball. Want to see it?” Linda smoothed her blouse, running her hands down her sides to her hips as if there were wrinkles. How could there be wrinkles, Jimmy thought, as his eyes went to her blouse despite himself. Her ID badge rested between her breasts. She never wore scrubs like other nurses, but always chose button-up blouses that she wore just snug enough to pull at the buttons provocatively. He knew she did it for attention, and it worked. He hated himself for noticing, but as Double A told him many times, we’re teenage boys; she ought to know better.

“Want to see what?” he said. “The ball?”

“No, the new shirt,” she said and stopped smiling. She walked up to him. “It’s in our room. You – you haven’t seen it or been in there, have you? Of course not. You’d never go in there.”

“No,” Jimmy said. He waited, suspicious, one hand on the door.

“I didn’t think so,” she said and smiled again.

“I have to go,” he said. He shut the bathroom door and leaned back on it, relieved to get some privacy.

She knocked on the door, making him jump.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Linda said. “I’m planning a great dinner.”

“I’m going out,” he said and turned on the shower full blast to drown out anything else she might say.

He peeked out the small bathroom window and saw a Blue Jay on a branch, staring right at him, as if it had been waiting for him. Jimmy shut the window.

He undressed and got in the shower. Immediately he thought of that plaster cast. He hoped the running water would wash away the uneasy feeling still in his stomach. Then he realized he didn’t find the baseball in the closet. He’d completely forgotten about it once he saw that plaster cast. How could he forget, he wondered. What did she do with it? I still have a week to find it, he thought. He wished he was already in South Carolina.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” he muttered to himself.

He turned his thoughts to the blond girl at the gas station, except now he imagined she was posing for a magazine spread, washing her car, a hose in her hand and the water running over her body, her white, tied-off shirt getting soaked and see through. The water trickled down her midriff to her frayed, cut-off denim short-shorts, the top button undone. He began to smile and rub the bar of soap on his body.