Mary Wolf (14 page)

“Hold on! I was just asking did she want a ride. She's standing by the road sticking out her thumb. What's a guy supposed to think?”

“A guy's supposed to leave while he's got the chance.”

The convertible speeds off. Daddy looks at me sadly.

“I wouldn't have gone with him. His tires were bad.” Then my arms are around him and I'm crying. “Daddy, I was scared! I didn't know what to do! I just stood there like an idiot!”

“Hush, now, baby. It's all right. Everything is going to be all right now.” He holds me close and smoothes my hair. “I'm so sorry, Mary. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry about what happened. Seems like all I do is apologize lately. I should print up cards that say ‘I'm sorry.' I could go around and hand them out.” He examines my neck. “Did I hurt you?”

“It's okay.”

“I don't know why I acted like that, Mary. I just went crazy. There's no excuse.”

“So what were you going to do, shoot me?”

“What?” He remembers he's holding the gun. “No, I was going to practice for a while. Take out my frustrations on a helpless target. I mean it, honey. I'm so sorry, Mary. I promise I'll never hurt you again.” His eyes gleam with tears. “Can you ever forgive me?”

I always forgive him. He's my father. I love him.

“Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry, too.”

“Honey, you've got nothing to be sorry about. All you did was tell the truth. That's no crime. What happened in there was my fault, not yours. Sometimes I forget you're still a child.”

“I don't feel like a child.”

“That's my fault, too. Childhood's supposed to be a happy time. And it will be, soon, I swear it, Mary. I know I've said that before, but things are going to be different. When school starts this fall, you'll be there, I promise, sitting in the very front row. You're such a smart girl. Mama and I are so proud of you, honey. You know that, don't you?”

“I know it.” My head's on his chest. I can hear his heart beating.

“You want to come and practice with me for a while?”

“The rangers said we're not supposed to shoot on the beach.”

Daddy waves the gun impatiently. “It's not like we're hunting or endangering anybody. Those people on the ridge can't even hear us over the waves. They just don't want to share the beach. People are greedy, Mary, that's the trouble.”

We cross the sand toward the cliffs, his arm around me.

“You were right about the house,” he says. “You're always right. I didn't want the girls to know. It made them happy thinking we had someplace to go when our wandering days are over. It made me happy, too. I've been fooling myself, Mary, about so many things.”

“When will they be over, Daddy? What are we going to do?”

“We'll go to San Francisco. I'll sell the RV. We won't get much for it; with the price of gas, nobody can afford to drive those things. But it'll be enough to rent a house and buy food until I'm working.”

We reach the cliffs. The wind's knocked over the target. Daddy stands it up and hands me the gun. “You go first.”

“I'll never be any good at this, Daddy.”

“Of course you will. It just takes practice.”

“But what's the point? I'd never use one of these things.”

“Believe me, if you'd gotten in the car with that guy, you would've wished you'd had a gun. You would've used it. The most dangerous animal is a human being, especially when he's sick or hurt. Remember that, Mary. I keep trying to put that across to your mother. She says, ‘Why can't people just be nice? What a wonderful world it would be.' That's true. But this isn't heaven; it's reality. She's never understood that, but you do.”

He hands me the gun. I aim to please him, firing shot after shot at the target. His praise nourishes my hungry heart. It feels like the old days, father and daughter, not enemies enjoying an uneasy truce.

After a while he says, “You better go back and see how Mama's doing. She'll be worried about you.”

I kiss his cheek and head up the beach. The roaring waves absorb the gun's report. I look back; Daddy has disappeared behind a rising wall of mist. The feel of his fingers on my throat has faded too, like an old bruise, a bad dream. Once we're settled, that kind of stuff won't happen. It never used to happen before. We'll be happy again; a real family, living in a real house.

Inside the Wolfs' Den someone's playing my guitar.

I burst through the door; Danielle's got it on her lap and Polly's pulling on the strings. Andy's sitting on the floor, listening. Erica freezes when she sees me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Danielle sticks out her chin. “Mama said we could.”

“I don't care what she said. You're not supposed to touch it when I'm not here.”

“This thing came off,” Erica whispers.

“What thing?”

She reluctantly hands me one of the pegs.

“What happened?”

“We just turned it.”

“Well, you turned it too hard! You broke it!” I snatch the guitar from Danielle.

Mama comes out of the bathroom, looking sheepish.

“I didn't think you'd mind. They were just playing with it, Mary.”

“It's not a toy! Now it's broken. I can't tune it!”

“Just that one string.”

“You need every string! You had no right to let them use it! It's not your guitar. It's mine!”

“Well, the girls were so upset after you and Daddy left. I thought it might calm them down.”

I look in the guitar case. My secret money is gone.

“I had some money in here. Where is it?”

“I didn't take it,” Erica says.

“Did you take it, Danielle?”

“There wasn't any money in there,” she says, sneering.

“Yes there was. Now it's gone. Did you take it, Polly?”

“No.”

“There wasn't any money in there,” Mama says. “Just some picks and strings.”

“Then where did it go?”

“I don't know,” she says. “Maybe someone broke into the RV and stole it.”

I search her face for clues. It's blank and smooth, as carefully arranged as a vase of flowers.

Fury sweeps over me, drenching my heart. I smash the guitar against the refrigerator. The body splinters, springs scream and sprawl. It dangles from my hand by its broken neck.

“She's crazy,” Danielle says. Erica bursts into tears.

“Oh, Mary, why'd you have to do that?” Mama says sadly. “Now nobody can play with it.”

Fifteen

“Mary, that boy's outside,” Daddy said, sticking his head into the bathroom, where I was washing my face. I haul water from the faucet by the highway every morning. “Why's he coming around so early?”

“I don't know, Daddy.”

“Tell him not to come around so early. Mama and the girls are still sleeping.”

A thick mist was falling. Rocky was wearing a plastic trash bag, with holes cut out for his arms and head.

“Disposable clothing. What will they think of next?”

He smiled. “It works. I hope I didn't get you in trouble. I knocked real quiet in case no one was up.”

“That's okay. What's happening?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Now?” My heart contracted. I knew this was coming, but I wasn't ready. I wouldn't ever be ready to say good-bye.

“This morning. The carnival's getting into Cloverdale. I want to be there when they're hiring. I don't know what else to do. At least I'll have a job for a while and maybe get to travel around.”

“Makes sense,” I said. As much as anything did.

“Dave's taking some kids over to the carnival next week. Maybe you can come and I'll get to see you.”

“We'll probably be gone by then,” I said. “We're leaving as soon as the battery comes.”

“That's what I figured.” Rocky studied his feet. The toes of his shoes were freshly wrapped with duct tape.

“Are you leaving right away?”

“I've got to pack. Then I'll hitch a ride. It might take a while, so I want to get started.”

“Want some company while you pack?”

“That'd be nice.”

“How about breakfast?”

“Sure, if you can spare it. I don't want to mooch.”

I went back into the RV and made peanut butter sandwiches and took a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

Daddy looked up from his newspaper. “Where are you going with that? I've told you we can't afford to feed him.”

“This'll be the last time,” I said. “He's leaving.”

Daddy's face softened. “Where's he headed?”

“Cloverdale. There's a carnival coming. He's going to try to get hired.”

“I'm sorry, honey. I know you'll miss him.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said. “We'll be leaving soon anyway.”

“It matters.” Daddy kissed my forehead. He took a ten dollar bill out of his wallet. “Give him this.”

“Are you sure we can afford it?”

“He needs it more than we do. Take some cheese, too. There's plenty.”

I slipped on my jacket and joined Rocky outside.

“My dad said to give you this.”

“Ten bucks! Wow, I thought he didn't even like me.”

“He does now,” I said.

I sat in the doorway of his hut while he packed. It didn't take long. Soon his backpack was bulging. Then we sat on the tarp and ate breakfast.

“This is a pretty nice hut,” he said. “Somebody will like it a lot.”

“They'll think you did a good job of fixing it up.”

“You can come down and hang around if you want, if the kids are bugging you or something.”

“Yeah, maybe I'll come down here and smash up my guitar some more.”

“You sure it can't be fixed?”

“You've seen it. It's shot. It's my own damn fault.”

“Well, she shouldn't have let them play with it.”

“Yeah, but I didn't need to go crazy.”

“You were feeling a little tense.”

“That's an understatement.”

We make each other laugh. That's what I'll miss the most.

“You guys still going to San Francisco?”

“Far as I know. That's the plan. I'd just like to be somewhere long enough to finish school.”

Rocky takes a drink of juice, then wipes his mouth. “I sure hope this carnival thing works out.”

“What if it doesn't?”

“I'll find something else.” He finishes his sandwich. “I'm sure going to miss you, Mary.”

“Me, too. I mean, you. You're the first, you know, boyfriend I've ever had.” I feel shy saying it out loud, but it's true. He's not just my friend, he's my boyfriend, too.

“I bet lots of boys liked you.”

“I don't know. We moved so much. Nobody really got to know me.”

“You're so pretty, Mary. I mean it. And you're the nicest girl I've ever met.”

“And you're the nicest boy.”

“What a coincidence,” he says. We smile, then we're folded in each other's arms.

“I probably taste like peanut butter.”

“You taste just fine. You're so sweet, Mary.”

“I'm going to miss you, Rocky.” I fight back tears, my shoulders shaking.

He hugs me tight. “You know what I wish? I wish I'd win the lottery. I'd buy your family a big house and get me one next door.”

“Well, maybe you'll win sometime.”

“I'm not old enough to play. But I will be, soon. He puts his hand on my chest. “I can feel your heart beating.”

I put my hand on his chest. “I can feel yours, too.”

We rest against each other. He says, “I hate to leave you.”

“I know. When you go, I won't have anyone to talk to.”

“Your family,” he says.

“No, they think I'm too depressing.”

“We can stay in touch. The trouble is, how? We'll both be moving around.”

“I'll give you my aunt's address. She'll know where we are.”

“That won't work. I'd probably lose it. Wait, I know.” He digs a pen out of his knapsack. “What's her phone number?”

I tell him and he writes it on his wrist.

“That'll wash off.”

“No it won't. I'll touch it up every day.”

“Now you've got a tattoo, the carnival will hire you for sure.”

He smiles. “Well, I hate to say this, but I better get going. It might take a while to catch a ride.” He hands me his flashlight. “I want you to keep this. Whenever you turn it on, think of me.”

His words hang between us. Then we crack up.

“You know what I mean,” he says, blushing.

“I sure do!”

“No, really. The batteries are almost new.”

“Are you sure you won't need it?”

“I'm going to the big city, missy. There'll be lights and running water and all kinds of fancy things.”

“All right,” I say. “That's really nice. I wish I had something to give you, too.”

“Don't worry, you've given me a lot,” he says.

He folds up the tarp and ties it to his pack. We leave the hut and head toward the highway. Rocky looks back once.

I watch our feet plod across the sand, wishing I could turn them in another direction, back to the past, to the driftwood hut, to an unbroken moment of closeness and laughter. I don't even have a picture of Rocky. I burn his face into my memory.

We get to the highway and I sit on a big log next to City Hall.

“I'll keep you company till you get a ride.”

“That could take some time.”

“My schedule's not too full today.”

Rocky walks over to the road and sticks out his thumb.

“I don't think you need to do that until cars go by.”

“I know,” he says. “I'm just practicing.”