Salvaged (18 page)

"Hey, Charlie."

"Hi, Riley."

He pointed to the bundle draped across my midsection. "Is that
Baby?"

"Yes, do you want to meet her?"

He walked toward me. "Of course."

Slowly and gently I removed her from the sling and handed her
to him.

"Holy moly, she's adorable." He held her up in front of his face
so that he could get a good look at her. "I can't believe some jerk
threw something this precious away."

"I know."

"Look at how fragile she is."

"She won't be fragile for long now that I'm looking after her."

"Do you take her everywhere in that thing?"

"Yes. She sleeps better when she's close to me."

His jaw dropped slightly before a small laugh escaped his throat.
"Sounds familiar."

"Yes, I guess it does."

He carefully handed Baby back to me. "Well, don't get any
ideas. I'm not gonna start carrying you around in one of those harness things."

"Har, har," I said, punching him in the shoulder. "It's a sling."

"Whatever."

"While I put her back in her cage, why don't you go say hello to
Gramps?"

I placed Baby back in her prison, and she whimpered for a few
moments before making her way to the back of the cage. "I don't
know why she's always in that corner. She looks so sad and lonely
back there."

Riley walked up behind me and peeked into the cage. "Nobody
puts Baby in the corner."

"Pardon?"

"Oh come on, you haven't seen Dirty Dancing?"

"Gross, I don't watch those kinds of movies."

"It's not `that kind of movie."' He laughed. "It's rated R at the
most. You know, it's a Patrick Swayze movie."

I shook my head. I didn't know who he was talking about.

"Patrick Swayze? Roadhouse?"

I still had no idea whom he meant, so I shook my head again.

"He was the dead guy in Ghost."

"Oh, Ghost, I love that movie." Finally, a movie I recognized.

"Of course you do, it's a chick flick. You're completely hopeless."

"As are you."

"True. Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

"Let's get out of here then."

I started toward the exit. "Be back in a bit, Gramps."

"Can we get you anything, Dr. Reed?"

"No thanks, I've got my lunch in the fridge just waiting on me."

We made our way to the car, and as Riley opened my car door,
he grabbed my arm and grinned at me. "For the record, I don't watch
`those kind of movies' either."

"Good to know."

"I can't even believe you would think I did. I'm a little hurt quite
honestly."

"I'm sorry. You just never know what people are in to."

"Not even me?"

"I'm just getting to know you, Riley. Give me some time. I'm
sorry I ever doubted you."

"Just don't let it happen again," he teased.

"I won't. I promise."

"So I figured we'd pick something up and sit in the car. That way
we don't need to worry about anyone overhearing the details of your
counseling session."

"What makes you think I'm divulging any information about
my counseling?" I taunted.

"You better, or you're buying your own lunch."

"All right, all right."

"Wanna get the old standby?"

"Sonic?"

"Of course, what else?"

"Sounds good to me. You know what I want."

"Grilled chicken sandwich with mayo but no tomato. Tator tots
and a diet cherry Coke?"

"You got it."

After getting our food, he drove us to the park, where we made
ourselves comfortable and unpacked our lunch.

"So what did you think of Joshua?" he asked as he removed the
wrapping from his burger.

"Oooh, that looks good."

"Do you want a bite?"

"No thanks." As I unwrapped my grilled chicken sandwich, I
coveted Riley's juicy burger and wished I'd gotten one for myself.
"So Joshua was great, and his wife was very nice too."

"Yeah, Nicole's great," he said quickly. "Okay, you're killing me
here, Smalls. Enough chitter chatter, get to the good stuff." As he took
a bite of his burger, mayonnaise dripped down his chin, so I reached
over and wiped it off. "Ank ou," he said with his mouth full.

"Don't mention it."

"Spill it already. I've been waiting to hear about it all morning."

"Well, this will be no shock to you, but basically I verbal
diarreha'd all over them."

"You're right." He sipped his soda. "No shock there. Was there
crying involved? They usually go hand-in-hand."

"No. No crying this time."

"At all?"

"Nope." I shook my head and held out the French fries so that
he could help himself He grabbed a few and put them on his lap.

"Wow. So what's their diagnosis? Is it loony bin time?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Not quite yet, but they did suggest
strapping me down at night," I teased.

"Oooh, sounds very interesting," he said with a mischievous
grin.

"Mind out of the gutter, Riley Bennett."

"Was that the gutter? Sounded more like heaven to me."

"You're sick and twisted."

"I know." He laughed some more before taking another bite
from his burger. "So continue."

"Oddly enough, they don't think I'm mentally unstable at all."

"I don't either."

"Yeah, but you don't know all the scoop."

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you."

He looked at me with concerned eyes. "So then what's the full
scoop?"

"I talk to Jesus every night," I blurted.

"That's not strange, Charlie; I do that too."

"When you talk to him, is he standing in your room in a t-shirt
and jeans?"

"Uh-"

"And does he talk back to you?"

"Well, I can't say that, no."

"I don't know if I believe he's literally standing in the room, but
I do know that I see him there. As I've told you before, I have an
active imagination."

"Well who knows, maybe he is there. He rose from the dead, so
I guess if he wanted to show up in your room every night it wouldn't
be that difficult."

"I never thought about it like that."

"So how long have you been able to see him?"

"Since the accident. More fries?"

"No thanks. So he doesn't tell you to drown puppies or anything,
does he?"

"Not yet."

"Well then, I don't see the problem."

"Really?"

"I wish Jesus appeared like that to me. It sure would make life
easier.

"That's kind of what Joshua and Nicole said."

"So what's he like? When you talk to him?"

"It depends on his mood."

"His mood? He has moods?"

"He's human, you know," I reminded. "Well, sort of. Well, you
know what I mean."

He nodded.

"He has a great sense of humor. He's charming and caring and
gentle, but sometimes he can get kind of stern. He gives good advice,
and he helps me work through my problems."

"Sounds good to me." He took the last bite of burger and shoved
it in his mouth.

"Yes, it's nice."

"Has he said anything about me?"

"Yes."

His eyes grew large, and he sat straight up in his seat. "He has?
What?"

"I don't know if I'm supposed to divulge that kind of stuff," I
teased. "Our conversations are very private."

"I call crap on that. You better enlighten me right now."

"Do you share everything with me?"

"Yes."

"Oh. All right, he said that he thought you were good for me,
that we were good for each other."

"I knew I liked him!" he joked. "Maybe you should spend more
time with him and see what else he has to say about us."

"I'll see what I can do, but he doesn't tell me my future or anything. Everything is day-to-day. Except for that one time... "

"He told you your future?"

"One small thing."

"What?" he asked while leaning toward me in anticipation of
the news.

"He told me I wasn't going to be a nun."

"Well that's a relief; otherwise, I've wasted a lot of time and
words when I'm talking to him."

"You talk to him about us?"

He shrugged. "Of course. You're a major part of my life, Charlie.
It's not like I'm not gonna talk to him about you."

"Well, what does he say?"

"To keep my hands to myself."

"Yes," I added. "That sounds exactly like something he would
say.

Between the two of us, there'd been over 73o days since Marme and
I enjoyed a girls shopping extravaganza. She called it "well-needed
retail therapy," and I agreed wholeheartedly.

The drive into "the city" (as she called it) was a lot of fun. We
listened to the Footloose soundtrack and sang along to the songs. I
only knew portions of the songs, but Marme, of course, knew them
word for word.

The term "the city" sounded ridiculous because in this particular
situation she was referring to Oklahoma City. In New York when
you referred to "the city" you meant the city, the Big Apple. Now
that was a city! Mom took me there on several mother/daughter
trips before she died. She loved Broadway shows, but my dad wasn't
interested in seeing them, so I became her "date."

I loved the entire experience and always looked forward to going
back. For me, coming out of the subway and into the main terminal
of Grand Central Station was like a scene out of a movie. There
were people everywhere, and the quickness of their movements
could almost put you into a catatonic state if you watched them
long enough. Sadly, it didn't seem as if anyone stopped to enjoy the
beauty of the massive room. I used to try to imagine what it was like
in the olden days, when people's lives weren't so hurried. I bet they
appreciated its grandeur. I know that I certainly loved to stand and
take it all in.

In New York City nobody stood still, and if you made the mistake of remaining in one spot for any amount of time, you would be
trampled.

"Moving with the crowd is a necessity, Attie," my mother told
me. "Otherwise, you'll get yourself hurt or lost somewhere."

She stayed in a constant state of panic as she ensured that I
was close by her side. Mom carefully watched over me due to my
tendency to wander off while walking mesmerized through the city
streets or buildings. There was a seductiveness to the town, and I
enjoyed it as much as my mother.

Being from a small town in the middle of the country, Mom
made a commitment to herself that she would expose me to more
experiences than she had growing up. She planned every trip weeks
in advance so as to guarantee that I would experience something
new, and the weekends usually incorporated a theme that focused
on museums, parks, or boroughs. One weekend was designed merely
for shopping at famous stores. We spent hours in Macy's alone but
hit up FAO Schwartz and walked through Tiffany's as well. Being
an amateur photographer, she documented every adventure and then
religiously added them to our photo albums.

One of my favorite memories was our "China Town Adventure."
We originally went to take in the sights and enjoy the food and culture,
but that lasted for only a short time before we found Canal Street, the
famous shopping district. Within minutes we entered into a shopping
frenzy. It was astonishing! Every store had mounds and mounds of
merchandise, much of it faux designer items that so closely resembled
the actual manufacturer that I couldn't spot the difference. The only
telltale sign I found was a tag on a purse that read "Kade Spade" rather
than "Kate Spade." I bought the purse anyway and figured I would
simply turn the label toward my body when I carried it. We bought
more on that trip than any other, and my father hadn't been happy
with the amount of money that was spent.

We always capped off the weekend with a Broadway show. On
one of our first trips we saw one of the last showings of Les Miserables, and it still remains my favorite musical of all time. I downloaded the complete symphony version from iTunes and listen to it often as
I picture it scene by scene in complete detail.

I remember sitting with my mother's hand in my left hand and
the playbill in my right. Within only a few notes of music I was
swept away into the drama as the powerful story pierced my heart.

The story unfolded before my eyes. Jean Valjean was once a
spiritually lost man whose life had been redeemed. He became very
powerful but ended up finding his true purpose in life when he made
an oath to a dying woman that he would raise her child as his own.
His past haunted him, but eventually, at the end of the story, he
revealed the truth to his daughter, and his soul was free forever. I
wept through much of the story and wished I could have seen it
again and again. Sharing that night with my mother was my favorite memory of her, and unbeknownst to Riley, the picture that he
sketched of my mother and I was taken moments before the story
came to life that evening.

Marme's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Thank you for asking
me to join you, Attie. It means a lot to me."