Kindergarten Baby: A Novel (31 page)

Laura dropped her head into her hands, looking annoyed with herself. “Good grief. How did I not see that? I
knew
he was writing his thesis about single women. He even told me a little bit about his research. That explains why he was always so attentive and such a great listener. So…‌wow. I was one of his research subjects. How could I have been so naive?”

“Well, I feel betrayed. Aren’t you angry?”

Laura tilted her head to one side, considering the question. “Oh, well, I’m not happy about it. As a woman, I feel like I’ve been used, but only in the ‘research’ aspect. He never led me on about having a relationship; we didn’t have one. He just let me talk about myself, and he listened. And…‌apparently, he wrote down everything I said.”

Her reaction wasn’t what Lindsey had expected at all. “You’re taking this much better than I am,” she told her friend. “I could scream. I want to scream and throw things…‌and run away. I feel like such a fool.”

“Lindsey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You had the year from hell at school as well as on the home front, and your stress levels have taken you on a roller coaster ride. This was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for you. It’s totally understandable.” She leaned in and gave Lindsey a quick hug. “You know, maybe the running away part would be a good idea. Get away from it all for a week or so. Didn’t your doctor say something similar to you last week when you had your annual check-up? And look at you. You’re practically hyperventilating just talking to me tonight. Hang on. I’ll make us some tea.”

Lindsey drooped, relieved to have everything out in the open. Talking with Laura always helped. “Okay. It’s just that I feel so powerless. So many memories are marching through my head‌—‌like soldiers going off to war. Damn memories. Even the good ones hurt now, because all the good is gone.”

A few minutes later, Laura returned with the tea. Lindsey flinched when she reached up to take it. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Laura.

“Oh, probably nothing. I think I must have gotten a few bug bites yesterday or the day before. Sometimes when my belt or waistband rubs against them, it’s uncomfortable. I’ll put some ointment on them when I get home.” She held Laura’s hand. “Listen, I’m sorry to bother you about Jake. I just didn’t know where else to go. I feel like I’m really losing it lately. I can’t even think straight anymore. You’re right. I’ve got to get far away from everyone and everything. Thanks again, Laura. You truly are a dear friend.”

“You should head out of town. Go somewhere completely different. Remember the Zuni Mountains trip we went on with the teacher group? That’d be a perfect place to get away from it all. I don’t know. Up to you. Just think about it and call me in a day or two, okay?” Laura said, watching nervously as Lindsey opened the front door and stepped outside. “Promise me. Check in with me, and let me know what you decide to do.”

Within the next couple of days, Lindsey’s small Saturn was packed and her map to the Zuni Mountains unfolded in the passenger seat. The trunk carried most of her camping equipment, including tent, cooking utensils, sleeping bag, blankets, and pet supplies. Her clothes, some of the food, and a small cooler filled the front seat and floor areas. She purposefully kept the backseat clear, open for Wendell and Malcolm. Even then, Wendell was a little cramped, but he seemed happy to be included in the adventure.

“Ready?” she asked, and they were off‌—‌one large dog, one small bird, and one very determined young woman‌—‌to a remote wilderness area in the Zuni Mountains, seven hours away. Their mission was to relax, rejuvenate, and start fresh. This trip was the beginning of the rest of Lindsey’s life‌—‌a new life in which she would be smart, plan carefully, think things through before acting, and focus on the good in even the most negative of situations.

Early June in the canyon brought hot and dry weather, and though the river still flowed, much of the vegetation looked brown and crunchy. Even the saguaros appeared a bit shriveled, in need of the monsoon rain that was still at least four weeks away. The rock formations she passed were diverse, changing from white boulders on either side of the roadway to steep, red-ribboned cliffs as far as the eye could see. At one point she almost wished she could be a passenger so she could better admire the natural beauty all around her, but she was forced to focus on the road, following one sharp curve after another. Once in awhile she indulged, though, and it was during one of these moments of appreciation of the canyon’s beauty that the commotion began.

Malcolm’s birdcage had a seatbelt around it, but the last series of curves caused it to slip and loosen, setting the cage free from its hold. It rolled noisily from one side of the back seat to the other, and the battered bird squawked from inside of it. The dog yelped, the cage clanked, and Lindsey tried to be reassuring while still keeping her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road.

“Hang in there, guys,” she said, frowning at the road. “I’ll pull over just as soon as I can. You’ll be fine.”

But the curves kept coming, and the birdcage rolled, slamming into Wendell, then into the door. The cage door jammed against the car’s door handle, pushing it up and open, and freeing Malcolm from his noisy confinement. Terrified and agitated from the experience, he flapped from the front of the car to the back, looking for a way out, until he finally landed on Lindsey’s head. Unfortunately, he quickly became entangled in her hair.

“I’ve got to stop,” Lindsey said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Got to stop now.”

As Malcolm pranced on her head, she brushed the hair from her eyes, but she couldn’t see any place where she could pull over. The highway along this stretch of the canyon had only two lanes and little visibility for passing. But she obviously couldn’t go on; driving under these conditions was too dangerous. Then she saw a runaway truck ramp, and she swerved onto it. That was better than nothing‌—‌as long as no runaway trucks came barreling down the hill. She figured the odds were in her favor. The car rolled to a stop, and Malcolm hopped off Lindsey’s head. She turned to the animals, taking in their ruffled state.

“You poor things,” she said, giving them each a gentle pat on the head. “That must have been very scary for you. I know it was for me. Let’s get you all set up again. I promise we’ll take a real rest at the next safe parking place.” After securing Malcolm’s cage by weaving one end of the seatbelt through the bars of the cage, they drove off in search of a rest stop where she could walk Wendell and give them each a cool drink and a snack.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

About twenty miles east of the Zuni pueblo, Lindsey began to look for the dirt road that would lead them into the Cibola National Forest, where wilderness camping was allowed. She doubted she’d find the exact spot where she and Laura had camped for a week with a group of teachers on the summer after her first year of teaching, but that didn’t matter. Anywhere would do.

“There it is‌—‌at least I think that’s it. All right guys, our camping adventure is about to begin.”

She turned off the highway and onto the narrow dirt road. The first several miles were bumpy, but not bad. Then the road’s condition became far worse than she remembered. The dirt road deteriorated until it was little more than ruts. Brush and branches scratched the sides and bottom of her car, and she had to grip the wheel tightly just to keep it from lurching out of her hands. Soon she was battling not only the ruts, the roots, and the branches in her low clearance vehicle, but also a much steeper incline. The car’s wheels sputtered and spun on the dry, powdery dirt which, she soon learned, was easier to navigate than the few steep, slippery, muddy spots where she got stuck several times. Fortunately, she was too busy learning new and demanding driving skills on the spot to think about the ramifications of the car getting stuck in this steep, remote area.

Always the kindergarten teacher, she went into ‘
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can
’ mode while Wendell and Malcolm went uncharacteristically silent. After almost thirty long minutes, the terrain leveled off and she came upon a perfect spot for the three of them to set up camp. When she opened the door, Wendell bounded from the car with pure joy. Malcolm began to squawk for attention and a little freedom of his own, but she shook her head.

“Sorry, buddy. I can’t take the chance of losing you this far from home,” she explained. But she did set the birdcage on a sturdy, level tree stump so he had a 360 degree view of Wendell, the trees, other birds, the bees…‌Then she began the chore of setting up the tent‌—‌another task she’d never attempted by herself.

The four-man tent raising took longer that she’d anticipated, and by the time it was ready for occupancy the sun had slipped below the horizon. Lindsey was completely exhausted. There would be no cozy campfire or cooking tonight. She fed Wendell his food and she ate a granola bar, then brought nothing but water into the tent. There were still some seeds in Malcolm’s cage but she figured they were safe‌—‌she didn’t think they would attract wild animals.

Wendell stretched out beside Lindsey’s sleeping bag, and Malcolm sat quietly in his cage in the corner. A slight, unexpected, and soothing drizzle tapped on the top of the tent as the temperature steadily dropped. The air felt damp and fresh, which was a welcome change after the hot, dry day.

Lindsey lit her small, battery-operated lantern then stared at the envelope she’d brought with her from Tucson. She knew it was from Anthony.

“I can do this,” she told her camping companions. “After all, what can he possibly have to say to me now? He cheated on me, moved out, then filed for a divorce, and not once did he show me the slightest consideration.”

Their marriage had been over for a long time, she realized. Maybe the note was just letting her know that he wanted to stop by and pick up any remaining possessions. With a deep breath, she tucked her finger into the envelope, slit it open, and unfolded the plain white piece of paper inside.

Dear Lindsey,
I have been an idiot and a fool. And I’ve made so many mistakes. I realize now that you are the only one for me. I never should have left you. Call me at the office. Love, Anthony

She couldn’t believe her eyes, so she read it out loud, needing to hear it. Was it some kind of a joke? Or could she be so tired that she was dreaming? All year she’d longed for him to come back to her. All year she’d pined for him and what they’d had together. But…

Just what
had
they had together? That was debatable. If their relationship had been so good, if he’d truly loved her, he never would have had sex with that woman. Especially not in their house, in their bed.

Take him back? She snorted, trying not to laugh. Did he think she was that stupid? That desperate? She would never take him back, and she would never trust him again. There had been a time when she would have tried, but not now. She was stronger and smarter than before, and she deserved better. And how insensitive of him, telling her to ‘call him at the office.’ He still didn’t get it. He had no idea how selfish he’d been. Not once had he attempted to be helpful as she struggled with being suddenly single and alone. No, she would not be calling him, and she would not be taking him back.

This revelation surprised Lindsey. She was rejecting Anthony‌—‌the love of her life‌—‌and it felt good. She drifted off to sleep wearing a confident smile and feeling somewhat at peace with herself and her world.

Malcolm was up with the sun, ready to start his day. The wild birds’ songs were being sung from a pleasant distance, but Malcolm chirped and squawked incessantly within the confines of the tent.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Malcolm.”

Lindsey stood slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was achy and still wearing yesterday’s clothes, which were neither soft nor made for sleeping. The durable fabric had rubbed against her sore bug bites all night long; she hadn’t brought any ointment because she’d been so sure the sores would have been better today. Unfortunately, they were worse.

“Oh, well,” she said with a sigh. She was determined to follow her personal pact of staying positive. “I’ll just make some tea and a cold compress, and I will be fine.”

She finished setting up camp, then she and Wendell went in search of kindling and wood for the fire. Since she couldn’t carry much‌—‌and Wendell was no help when it came to carrying‌—‌they were back at the site every few minutes, stacking wood.

Lindsey munched on apples and walnuts, her lunch for the day, then sat in the sun on her beach chair with her brand new journal. Her plan was to write about what she saw, experienced, thought, or felt during this getaway, including everything for which she was thankful.

First Full Day of Camping in the Zuni Mountains
I can’t believe I’m really here by myself. I never would have done this any other time in my life. Why did I do it now? Lots of reasons. Some I’m proud of, some I’m not proud of.
The weather today is perfect. Not too hot, not too cool. I feel no breeze, but I can hear it high up in the tops of the tall ponderosa pines. Malcolm seems quite content in his cage. Sometimes it looks like he is communicating with the wild birds. Who am I to say he’s not? A few have come quite close to him. It’s like he has friends‌—‌birds of a feather. Wendell is Wendell. He goes with the flow. If I had to describe him right now, I’d say he’s working, doing dog work, and he feels important. He is ultra alert‌—‌not anxious or nervous, just very alert. That’s good.
I appreciate my two lovable companions, the warmth of the sun, the lulling sounds of nature, the solitude of this location, and the opportunity…‌just to be.

She shifted her position and groaned. “Damn! I do not appreciate these stupid bites or whatever they are.” She hesitated, wondering if she should include them in her journal. “It’s not a positive thought,” she said to herself, then decided. “But this is something I feel, and it’s very real. I’ll write about it the next time I add to the journal.”