I could see her, smiling — no, smirking! — holding out that damn cell phone. One click! flash! and I would never hear the end of it.

---

 

21. Needing Company
 

After my uncle returned to the car and got back behind the wheel, fly became the operative word.

Uncle Mick drives a BMW 6-series, and I had to quit looking at the speedometer. It was too scary. I don't know where the police were, but Mick didn't seem to care. He laid a heavy foot on the gas and kept it there.

"Thank God there's no traffic," he said, as he cut across three lanes full of cars to get into the fast lane. "Ordinarily this stretch of road is a parking lot."

In comparison to us, the other cars seemed to be crawling. Some looked as if they were standing still, but they had to be going at least fifty.

"Yeah, that's great," I gulped. Would be better, I wondered, if I shut my eyes?

My uncle kept changing lanes, cutting off other drivers, passing on the right... I don't know how to drive, but I knew that pretty much everything he was doing was wrong.

"I don't usually drive like this," he commented, "but time is of the essence. We have to get to that hospital as quickly as we can. Quicker, even."

The hospital...

Where my family would be waiting for me. My family...

My mother wouldn't mind how I was dressed, but Dad's brain always had a short-circuit when he saw me in a skirt.

To say nothing of my aunts and uncles... my cousins... and oh, my God! Auralee! For sure Auralee would be there. And if she was, I was dead.

Auralee is the oldest of the Samson cousins, my grandparent's first grandchild, and my grandfather's favorite. There was no way she could miss being there. Auralee was also the tallest of my cousins, and she never lost a chance to pick on me about my height. Never, of course, when any adults were around to see or hear. She's older and bigger than me, and the worst bully I know, boy or girl.

She's always on her cell phone, too, talking bad about somebody...

When I thought of her and her cell phone, I suddenly got the mental picture of her snapping a picture of me in my cute Aeropostale outfit. I could see her, smiling — no, smirking! — holding out that damn cell phone. One click! flash! and I would never hear the end of it.

I had to talk to my uncle, figure out a way...

But as I came out of my reverie, I realized that my uncle had been talking for some time. He was caught in a reverie of his own.

"This is the first time I'll see my father in twenty years. Can you imagine that, Juliette? Twenty years without seeing your own Dad. And dear God, it's nothing but my own stupid fault."

With a few quick turns of the wheel, he moved to the rightmost lane, pulled ahead of three cars, slid over to the leftmost lane, pulled ahead of another car, and settled back in the middle lane.

"No one in front of us now," he said. "I guess I'd better go easy on the speed, now that I'm the front runner."

I didn't check the speedometer. His idea of "going easy" still seemed dangerously past.

"You asked me once about the fight with my family. I wouldn't tell you. Well, I'll tell you now." His sentences came out in choppy, terse blocks. I could feel the waves of emotion roiling inside him. He gripped the steering wheel as if it were a life preserver — his knuckles were white. He took a deep, slow breath.

"Well, listen now. I was the oldest son. I was to have the family business. My father was handing responsibilities over to me. I have to admit I was an ass about it, lording it over my brothers, telling them that they'd all be working under me. I must have been insufferable.

"Yet the whole time my responsibilities grew, I never left off playing pranks and jokes, mainly on my poor stupid brothers." He let out a bark of a laugh that sounded bitter and sad. "I was merciless, and many's the time I went too far."

"Well, one day, one terrible day, they got theirs back. I had to take a cash deposit to the bank. It happened to be a large one. Well, your father and your uncle Glen cooked up quite the plan." He sighed. "It was well done, I'll say that much."

"Here is what they did: They got three fellows, men I didn't know, to make some confusion in front of the bank. Two of them pretended to fight, and they bumped me as I tried to get around. They knocked me down in a patch of mud and got my clothes dirty. Well, I saw red. I lept to my feet, threw down the money bag, and lord! I wailed on the pair of them, I did. I gave them the thumping of a lifetime."

He sucked on his lip for a moment, then said, "It wasn't until they ran off that I remembered the bag of money."

His eyes scanned the road ahead, and his jaw shifted as if it was grinding wheat. "Imagine my relief when I saw the bag still there at my feet. Or what I thought was the bag. When I took it inside the bank, I found it held nothing but sheafs of cut-up newspaper." He nodded and gave me a grim look. "A third man made the switch while I was busy fighting. What a fool I was! What an utter fool!"

"The fellow took the money to my brother Jim, your father, and he brought the money to the bank himself. But I didn't know that, mind! I went home with my tail between my legs, and my Dad let loose a flood of anger on me. I bore it as well as I could. Dad took all my responsibilities away and passed them to your uncle Glen. I was disgraced."

A wave of anger struck him and he thumped the wheel three times violently with his palm. Then he calmed himself. "Still... still and all, I deserved it."

When my uncle lapsed into silence, a question came up in my mind. "But Uncle Mickey, if my father deposited the money, then your father must have..."

"Yes, girl, yes, my father got the statement from the bank, and there was the money, safe and sound. At that point, your father owned up. He kept quiet about Glen's part, and everyone laughed. They laughed! Can you imagine? My mortification, my sense of having let my family down, the responsibility for losing all that money... it all was just a joke! A practical joke!"

I licked my lips, which were very dry. "So did your father give you your responsibilities back?"

"No, Juliette, he didn't. He came to like working with Glen better. You know your uncle Glen, with his easy-going ways. And so he left things as they were... and I just left. I didn't speak a word to anyone. I was so angry! I moved to San Diego, as far away as I could get. I didn't write, I didn't call, I didn't tell anyone where I was. Finally it was your Aunt Mary who hunted me down and found me out." He looked at me, chagrined.

"At long last, I moved back to Massachusetts. I had business in Boston, and I did very well. But I was so angry and hurt that I never spoke a word to my brothers or my father for more than twenty years."

"And now I hope I can get there in time to say goodbye."

We sat in silence as the miles flew by. Fine, so now I understood Uncle Mickey's story. I knew why he was driving like a crazy man. He had a problem, an unresolved dispute. But I had a problem too.

"Uncle Mickey?" I said. "I have a problem."

"Oh, yes?" he said, sounded distracted. "What is it, love?"

Love? I repeated mentally. Out loud I said, "I can't go to the hospital dressed like this."

He looked over at me. His eyes scanned me up and down. "You look fine," he said. "You were right to change out of your Halloween costume."

"No," I said, "This is a costume, too!"

He looked at me again, and blinked twice. I had the distinct impression that he didn't hear me at all.

After he turned his head back to the road, he began speaking again.

"I lost so much by running away," he said. "Not the family business. I don't care about that. And not even my family... except for my father. But you know what I lost, Juliette?" His voice fell to a soft near-whisper. "I lost the love of my life." After a pause, he added a correction: "Both the loves of my life."

I eyed him suspiciously. I didn't think I wanted to hear what he was going to say.

"I mean your mother, girl. Carly."

I let out an irritated huff. "And the other?" I asked.

"Denise," he said. "The one married your father and the other married that idiot Mossert."

Mossert? Then I remembered: Lou's mother was named Denise.

"You loved them both?" I asked, but it sounded like an accusation.

"Yes, and I never could make up my mind. I loved them both. Your mother — God! Sharp as a whip! And beautiful! Lord, you should have seen her in her day!"

"Denise, on the other hand, soft and sensual, and oh so tender..."

I was getting pretty uncomfortable by now. "Uncle Mickey, I don't think I want to hear this," I warned him.

"What's that?" he asked, as if I woke him from a dream.

"I don't want to hear about the loves of your life!" I repeated.

He looked confused. "Girl, I'm just telling you... giving you an idea of all I've lost."

"I still have a problem," I told him. "I am not a girl. I can't go to the hospital like this." His face had a blank look, so I repeated with emphasis: "I AM NOT A GIRL," with a big pause between each word.

"Alright," he said, "alright." He thought for a moment. "What shall we do? What shall we do?" He blew out a breath and glanced around the car, as if the answer was tucked in some corner.

At last he said, "I know. We'll call your mother. She'll know what to do."

With one hand he picked up his cell phone, punched up the number and handed me the phone.

My mother answered softly, "Hello?"

"Mom?" I said.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Still on the turnpike. I don't think we're far."

"Tell her it's another ten or fifteen minutes," Uncle Mickey put in. "Ask her if we'll make it."

"I heard that," she replied, "tell him yes, but hurry."

I repeated the message to my uncle, who responded by giving it more gas. Then I told my mother my problem. She sighed.

"I'm not sure what to do, Victor. I can't leave, and we can't ask your uncle to take you home."

"Is Auralee there?" I asked.

"Yes, why?"

I took a deep breath. "Look," I said, "I know you think she's a wonderful girl, but if she sees me like this, she will ruin my life."

My mother was silent. I was afraid the line dropped, so I said, "Mom?"

"I'm thinking," she said. A long silence followed. Then she said, "Lou's mother knows about you, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you think she'd come and pick you up?"

"I guess so," I said. "I think so. I can call her and ask."

"No, I'll call her," she said. "Call you right back."

"Okay," I said, vastly relieved.

---

Mom called back a moment later to tell me that Mrs. Mossert was on her way. The hospital wasn't too far from school, so she might even arrive before Uncle Mickey and me.

She also said she'd wait at the hospital entrance until she knew I was safe and away with Lou's mother.

The rest of the trip was passed in silence. My uncle concentrated on the road. I wondered whether Lou would come with his mother.

---

As we approached the hospital, I saw Lou's mother walking toward the hospital. Uncle Mickey didn't see her and I didn't say anything.

I also didn't say anything when he pulled into a parking space next to Lou's mother's car, either.

Lou wasn't in the car. I thought I'd feel relieved, but to tell the truth it would have been good to see him right now. Then I realized that I would see Lou. Mrs. Mossert would take me home — to her home.

But that was okay. I wanted to see Lou. I needed company.

My uncle and I got out of the car. Everything was dark and quiet. No one was around, and my uncle's heels sounded loudly on the paving.

He surprised me by taking my hand, but I let him hold it and trotted quietly along next to him.

We turned the corner, walked along the front of the huge hospital building, the same way Mrs. Mossert had gone.

Then we walked in the front door, and my uncle stopped dead in his tracks.

He let out a kind of backward gasp, then said, "Look at the pair of you! Here and now!"

The pair, of course, were my mother and Lou's mother. The two of them stood side by side, my mother blonde and Lou's mother dark. They were both wearing jeans and Lou's mother was wearing a long light coat.

I couldn't help but think of salt and pepper shakers when I saw them, and I almost smiled.

Instead, I looked up and caught my uncle's expression. It was a strange moment. It was a time warp. I could feel him being pulled back to high school, seeing him and the two women standing at school just as me, Diana, and Kristie might stand: looking at each other, a certain kind of tension in the air, electrical, magnetic, chemical, whatever.

Mrs. Mossert didn't smile. She scoffed and repeated, "The pair of us!"

My mother said, "Mick, you need to get upstairs."

For the two women, there was no romance in the moment. No bittersweet sense of loss or what-might-have-been. They had lives; they'd made choices. Mick had cut and run. He was like a man who'd been lost at sea, given up for dead, and now washed up on the beach expecting to pick up where he'd left off.

Of course, he couldn't.

"Nice to see you again, Mickey," Mrs. Mossert said. I couldn't tell what she really meant. Was she glad to see him? "Vic— uh, Juliette, are you coming with me?"

"Mick, you've got to get going," my mother urged again.

I looked up at my uncle's face again. He was paralyzed. So much of his life had gone, never to come again. He'd lost two women he loved, and it looked like neither loved him any more. He'd lost his family, his father...

Mrs. Mossert looked at me and her expression softened. "Are you coming with me?" she repeated.

My uncle still held my hand. He stood there, uncertainty and pain in every expression.

I gave his hand a squeeze.

There was no response.

I squeezed it harder, and he looked at me, startled.

"Do you want me to come with you, Uncle Mickey?" I asked him.

He looked like he needed company more than I did.

© 2009 by Kaleigh Way

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