Stealing Heaven (21 page)

"I will," she finally says, the words coming out quiet,
small, and that's when I know something is wrong. Very wrong.

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27

Mom doesn't go to the doctor. After she tells Dennis she will, the
two of them start looking at each other in a way that makes me wonder if I'm
going to have to spend some time sitting around outside when we get back to the
house.

It turns out that I don't, but that's only because Mom comes up to
me after inviting Dennis in "to discuss some things" and taps my
shoulder, hands me some money, and says, "Go out for a few hours."
Before I can even say anything, like ask how I'm supposed to go somewhere
without a car--ours certainly isn't anywhere around--or even a phone to call a
cab, she's nudging me outside and shutting the door.

So I go out. When I get back Dennis is gone and Mom's sitting
outside looking out at the water.

"Did you go to the doctor?" I ask.

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She gives me a look.

Of course she didn't. Stupid of me to even ask, but then I'm
feeling a little scattered right now.

"Sorry," I mutter and sit down next to her. "I
guess you'll go before we leave?"

"Please. I'm fine. Look at me. Do I look sick to you?"

"No, but-"

"I'm fine." She puts an arm around me, pulls me close.
"Really, I am. I promise. Okay, baby?"

"Okay." She does seem fine. Maybe I was worried for
nothing. I mean, she did look a little strange at breakfast, but then I'd been
up for who knows how long, and oh yeah, spent most of that time sitting in a
police station. "So, when are we leaving?"

She doesn't say anything.

"Mom?"

"Soon, baby," she says. "I need to take some time,
think things over. And right now I need a nap." She leans over and kisses
the top of my head, then goes inside.

She never asks where I've been.

This is what happened when I went out:

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I walked to the beach. I walked and it felt nice; the wind was
blowing, not hard but just enough to make it feel like summer, and the sun was
shining strong and bright.

I could hear the ocean the whole way there too. It got louder as I
got closer to the beach. I hadn't ever been to the public one. I'd driven by
it, talked to--talked to Allison about it--but I'd never gone. It was crowded
and as I walked down the street that ran alongside it I felt like just another
tourist, walking around staring at the signs for food and fun and T-shirts. The
whole place even smelled like the beach, like suntan lotion and sand and the
sea.

I stopped at one place, a hamburger stand, thinking I'd get
something to eat since I hadn't eaten much breakfast. I ended up buying just a
soda because the girl who was working the cash register stared at me like I was
a ghost.

"You're that thief," she said right after she asked what
I wanted. She pushed my soda across the counter hard, spilling most of it, and
when she gave me my change she wouldn't touch my hand, just dropped coins into
it.

I wanted to go home after that but I couldn't.

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Well, I could have, but I'd have had to wait around for Dennis to
leave and besides, Mom clearly wanted me gone. So I kept walking, but now I
noticed everyone who looked at me and then pointed or turned to say something
to whoever they were with. I threw my soda away and crossed the street, heading
for the beach.

There was a line to get in. A line of cars and even a line of
people. The people waiting in front of me --a guy and a girl, clearly
together--didn't seem to know who I was. They told me they'd come for "a
day of fun" and asked where they could rent an umbrella. They also asked
if I knew why the police were there.

"I mean, is there some sort of crime spree going on around
here?" the girl said, laughing.

I smiled back, weakly, and thought about getting out of line. But
I was too close to the front and I knew walking away would just attract more
attention.

There were two cops talking to people. One of them I didn't
recognize. The other one was Greg. He was wearing a hat but his nose was
sunburned even worse than it had been the day he took me to lunch. I knew I
shouldn't have thought about that, should have just thought about what he was,
a cop, and

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nothing more, but then he looked up and saw me.

He smiled. He smiled when he saw me. Not a cop smile, an
"I've got my eye on you" smile, but a smile like the ones he'd always
given me. A smile that was just a smile. A smile like he was happy to see me.

I stepped out of line then, walked back down the street. When I
saw him smile I wanted to smile back. I wanted to ask him about his nose and
how his day was and talk like we always did. I was stupid, so stupid. Things
could never be like that. Maybe they never were like that.

I knew that was a lie. Somehow, in some strange way, we'd
connected. It shouldn't have happened, but it did.

I kept walking. The food stands and souvenir stores disappeared,
replaced with houses, the small ones I never paid much attention to before. I
looked at them then, really looked at them. Everyone I saw--people hanging up
beach towels or looking out at the ocean or even just sitting around--they all
seemed happy to be where they were. I wondered what it would be like to feel
that way, to be where you were and not worry about what might happen, not
always know you'd be moving on. I wished there

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was a way I could feel like that, even if it was for just a little
while.

I walked over to the beach again. It was marked for residents only
but the sign was peeling and hung crookedly, like it had been forgotten. I took
off my shoes, felt the sand sink hot under my feet and between my toes. I
watched two little kids fight over who was going to fly a kite, then walked
down to the ocean. It still wasn't much to look at but then its blankness seemed
comforting.

The water was cold, a shock after the warmth of the sand. Nearby I
heard a girl laugh, saw her race into the waves, looking over her shoulder to
smile at the guy she was with. It was Allison. She stopped smiling when she saw
me and walked back onto the beach.

I wasn't surprised to see her. It seemed like it was something
that had to happen. She didn't move away as I walked hesitantly toward her, but
she didn't look at me either, just stood staring out at the water.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was out walking and--"

"No. I mean here in town still. After everything you and your
mom did, why stay?"

"We're leaving soon." I took a deep breath,

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watched as one row of waves hit the shore and then another.
"Why did you do it?"

She was quiet for a moment. She didn't ask what I meant.

"I did it because I feel sorry for you," she finally
said. "Everything you have isn't real, isn't yours. It'll never be yours.
That must really suck."

A guy called her name then, a question in his voice, and I watched
her turn and smile at him. I could tell from her smile that he was Brad, knew
she'd found the right words to say. I watched him smile back at her.

"You're right," I said, and was surprised to hear my
voice crack. "It sucks. And look, I--Allison, we were friends. Maybe we
could--"

"I thought we were friends," she said, and finally
looked at me. She wasn't smiling anymore. "But we weren't. We never will
be."

She walked away. She didn't look back. I watched her go and then I
turned around, headed back across the sand. My eyes stung, and I lied to
myself, said it was just from the sun.

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28

I wake up with a start in the morning, open my eyes to see Mom
looking down at me with an expression on her face I can't read. I scramble up
off the sofa, head into the kitchen. She doesn't ask why I slept downstairs,
just comes in behind me and sits down, looking out the window. The only sound
is the coffee brewing and her breathing.

She keeps looking out the window while she drinks her coffee. I
refill her mug twice. "I need a few days' rest," she finally says.
"I need a chance to tie up some loose ends."

"But we--everyone knows what happened. You won't be able to
do anything."

"Is that so?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I--we're not leaving?"

"We are leaving. Just not today."

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She's going to try something. Getting away but not getting
anything--she'll see that as a challenge. I think of the look on her face when
we first drove through Heaven, her expression when she saw all those houses,
and know we aren't leaving because she needs to be inside one of those houses
and take something before she'll be able to move on.

A couple of days later, everything's still the same. We're still
here and Mom still isn't ready to leave. She's been gone a lot and when she's
home she's... she's not here. I mean, she is, and we still watch movies and I
tell her she looks great when she twirls around before she leaves, but that's
it.

She won't talk about what happened, not with the silver, not with
anything. She just says, "It's over. Sometimes that's how it has to
be."

I haven't done anything. I've stayed here. I haven't gone out
since that one awful afternoon when I saw Greg and Allison, as if I needed a
reminder that everything I've done here has totally turned to shit, as if I
hadn't already known that I screwed up and hurt Mom, hurt myself, hurt... hurt
others. Allison and I could have been friends, real friends. Maybe. I don't
know. But that's just the thing. I don't know and I

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never will. I can't even start to think about Greg. It hurts too
much.

This morning Mom slept late and then took a long shower, longer
than usual, so long that I heard the hot water pipes squeak in protest. I have
coffee waiting for her when she comes downstairs. It takes her forever to walk
to the kitchen, her breath coming in slow, straining gasps.

I get up and walk over to her. We have to talk sometime and it
might as well be now, but before I can say anything she smiles at me, stops me
from talking by pushing my hair back with one hand and saying, "We're
going to be all right. You'll see. I'll take care of everything."

I don't believe her. That frightens me. But what frightens me more
is that she doesn't sound like she believes it either.

She makes her way to the kitchen and drinks her coffee, then picks
up her keys and says she's going out. We have another car now. I don't know
what happened to the other one but I suspect Dennis made it disappear, just
like he took care of everything else. We had a package from him the other day,
a bunch of papers delivered by an overnight service. Mom read

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them and then had me sign some. I didn't ask why. I kept Dennis's
card, though. It was clipped to the stack of papers. His last name is
Patterson. His office is still in New York.

I did ask Mom if we'd have to pay for having the papers sent. She
rolled her eyes and said, "Baby, he's a lawyer. What do you think?"

After she leaves, I sit down and watch television. It's either
talk shows or judge shows and I turn it off, get up, and open a window. I can
smell the ocean today. I lie down and listen to it, one arm dangling off the
sofa, my fingers tracing patterns across the floor. I still love this house.
That's the funny thing about all of this. I know we should be gone and I even
wish we were. But when it's quiet like this, when it's just me and I'm tired of
thinking about stuff--the thing is, when it's like this, I'm still glad we're
here.

I hear a car coming up the driveway. Mom, back already?

It isn't Mom, because it's not her car. It's Greg's.

I start to head upstairs, to pretend I'm not home, but you know
what? Forget it. I'm pretty sure I know what this is about, and when he gets
out of the car and I see he's in uniform I know I'm right.

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And that's fine. I can handle this. I have to. I owe it to Mom.

I walk outside, meet him as he's walking toward the steps.

"Hey," he says, like it's just an ordinary day. "I
came by to see if you're okay."

"You mean you came by to make sure we leave town."

"No, I mean I came by to make sure you're okay."

"Dressed like that?"

He looks at me. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but
they just don't like it when I wear a clown-suit to work."

I start to laugh and then turn it into a cough, stare down at the
ground. "What do you want?"

"I thought that maybe -- " He clears his throat. "I
thought that maybe you might want a hot dog."

"What?"

"I brought some with me. I figured you probably hadn't
eaten."

"You brought me food?"