The River Valley Series Page 2

  She forced herself to take another long sip. It still tasted terrible. She poured some of it onto the wet sand. The beer turned into white foam and then made air holes in the surface.

  She wandered along the edge of the river. Climbing onto a boulder, she saw a patch of sand nestled between large rocks, almost like a cave. No one was there. Holding her beer in one hand and her bag in the other, she clambered over the smooth round granite to perch on an indentation that was like a seat. She took out her sketch pad and began drawing a cluster of poppies. The green buds hadn’t opened yet, merely hinting at the vibrant orange that would soon be revealed.

  She lobbed a pebble into the water and, hearing footsteps, turned her head to see Zac Huller approaching, walking lopsided, holding a beer. He was class vice president, an athlete. Some girl had written “babe” in lipstick on his locker last week. Lee knew his parents owned the town sawmill. “Born with a silver spoon in their mouth,” her mother said once, sneering. Zac stopped, looking disappointed. “Oh, I thought you were someone else.” He plopped down on the sand, inches from her bare legs. “What’re you doing?”

  She tossed another pebble. “I don’t know.”

  “Everybody’s getting loaded.” He tipped the beer into his mouth, his Adam’s apple moving up and down with each swallow.

  Lee chucked a small flat rock and it skipped over the water in three leaps.

  Zac threw his empty bottle and it shattered into jagged pieces. “Man, I can’t wait to get out of this shit-hole.” Brown glass lay in shards on the sand and he kicked one with his foot, pulling another beer from his shorts.

  “Me too.”

  “I heard you got a big scholarship. What for?”

  “Art.”

  “I saw your paintings hanging in the cafeteria. Freaked me out but I don’t know crap about art. I’m going to the community college up by Eugene. My dad’s got a boner over college, so here I go.” He kicked the sand and sipped his beer. “My dad just wants to get rid of me now that my mother left him. She went to Florida with some rich guy she met when she went to visit my aunt. She hated it here. Always talking about how much she missed the city and what a hick my old man is. I guess she hated me too because she’s gone, gone, gone.” He tore the label off the beer bottle and crumpled it between his fingers. “Wanna hear something messed up?” He looked at her, eyes half closed. “Do you?”

  “I guess.”

  “I saw my mother porking that guy in Florida. I walked in on them one day after school. It was disgusting. I hate him. My dad’s a jerk, always on my ass about everything, but this guy, this guy’s a complete waste.”

  Lee remembered then that he was gone the first part of the school year. “Did you come back after that?”

  “Yeah, I came back to live with my dad. He thinks I’m a complete screw-up, so that’s a lot of fun.” He flipped his hair out of his eyes and stared at her, slapping her ankle. “You know, you’re not so ugly underneath those glasses.” Lee looked at him, thinking he was interesting in a science project kind of way, and lobbed another pebble.

  He lurched to a standing position and dropped with a thud on the rock next to her, waving his hand between them. “What do you think about this?”

  Lee’s eyes darted away from his face to the sun glistening on the water. “About what?”

  “Y’know, me talking you up?” His fingers grasped her knee and then went up her leg to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. “You ever think this would happen?”

  Lee put her legs together. “Exactly what are we talking about?”

  “I’m Zac and you’re a, what are you? A non-person. I’ve watched you in that bullshit health class and I wonder if you’re a girl or a robot.” His words slurred and there was spittle in the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I could loosen you up. Make you scream a little, break the robot out of her shell.” He pulled on the collar of her t-shirt with his index finger. “This could be a good spot to y’know.” He raised his eyebrows and patted the sand with his foot. “Nice and soft.”

  “It’s not really soft, as a matter of fact.”

  The vein on his forehead bulged as his face turned a shade of purple. “See, like that, the way you’re so stiff and shit. It’s weird.” He yanked her glasses from her face and tossed them onto her canvas bag. He pulled her to the sand. He was on top of her. Sharp pebbles dug into the backs of her legs. His wet tongue wiggled around inside her mouth like a slug and his breath smelled of beer and Doritos. He panted, his hands clutching at her breasts like he was trying to pluck them from her body.

  She wheezed against his weight, attempting to push him off. He was heavier than he looked. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  He grunted. “Screw Lindsey. She’s been blowing me off.” He yanked at her shorts.

  She reached behind her, hoping for a rock but found instead a sharp-edged piece of the broken beer bottle and slammed it hard into the back of his right thigh. He shrieked, jumping to his feet and twisting his upper body to see the wound, looking like a rabid dog chasing his tail. “You stabbed me?” He held up his fingers. There was a small amount of blood on them. “I’m bleeding. You bitch.” He lunged for her but tripped and fell onto the sand. She grabbed her glasses and bag and scrambled over the rocks, slipping in her tennis shoes and scraping her knee. She kept running until she reached the crowd.

  * * *

  Lee waited the rest of the afternoon in the hot parking area for Mrs. White. Finally, shortly after three she pulled up in the yellow truck. Without getting out of the vehicle, Mrs. White leaned across the seat to the passenger side and opened the door. “Hop in,” she called out to Lee.

  Mrs. White had changed into Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt, her white legs surprisingly muscular for an old lady, Lee thought. “You’re red as a lobster,” Mrs. White said. “Don’t you know about suntan lotion?”

  Lee looked at her arms. They were bright pink and starting to sting. Her skin was hot to the touch. Great, she thought, a sunburn to top off what had been a horrific day. This just proved it, bad things always happened to her whether she wrote her list or not. As a matter of fact, it was the things she didn’t think of that happened.

  As Mrs. White backed the truck onto the road she said, “You have any fun?”

  “Not really.”

  “A lot of drinking?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Mrs. White looked at her sharply but didn’t ask any other questions. Lee’s eyes were heavy. She put her head against the side of the truck and fell asleep. When she woke they were pulling up to her mother’s house.

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  But Mrs. White wasn’t listening. She was looking at the house with a worried expression. “What’s wrong?” Lee asked her.

  Mrs. White swore under her breath and leaped from the truck, sprinting toward the porch. Lee followed, her heart beating hard inside her chest. They entered through the front door, Lee on the older woman’s heels. The screen door slammed behind them. It smelled different but she couldn’t think of what. Then it came to her. Smoke.

  “Those damn cigarettes,” Mrs. White yelled, running toward the kitchen.

  The coffee table, covered with magazines and newspapers, was on fire. Her mother lay on the couch, inches from the flames, not moving.

  Lee screamed. Without thinking, she ran past the fire to the couch and dragged her into the foyer. Once on the floor, Eleanor’s eyes fluttered and then she coughed the rattled smoker’s cough, her chest rising and falling.

  “Mommy, are you alright?” Lee took her mother’s hand that felt like crepe paper, sobbing.

  Without opening her eyes Eleanor murmured, her face slack, “My chest hurts.”

  Lee heard the clang of a pan and then water running from the kitchen. Mrs. White ran past them with a pan of water. Lee watched her douse the fire. It went out instantly, as if it knew there was no denying Ellen White what she wanted; the remains of its rebellion were soggy,
charred magazines and blackened remnants of the town newspaper.

  * * *

  They put Eleanor to bed and cleaned the mess left by the fire. Afterwards they sat on the steps of the front porch. “How did you know?” Lee said. “About the fire.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a nose can smell most anything. It’s a curse most of the time. Always figured my family must’ve been the types smelled the Queen’s dishes for poison.”

  Lee made a pattern in the dirt with her foot. “Glad we got here when we did.” She shivered.

  Mrs. White looked at her, eyes sharp. “Is it always this bad?”

  Lee shrugged, looking at the ground. “I guess.”

  “You ever tell anyone about it, like a teacher at school or anything?”

  “Nah, what could they do?”

  Mrs. White looked like she might say something but then thought better of it, examining her fingernails instead.

  “Mrs. White, I’m leaving in the morning.” And as she said it, she knew suddenly that it was true. She was finished with high school. She’d miss the graduation ceremony but who cared? She was done living in this crazy house. “College starts in late August but I’ll go now, get a job for the summer. I can live in the dorms during the summer as long as I have the rent.”

  Mrs. White nodded. “You’ll need some money.”

  “I’ve got a little saved.” Not much, she thought. Enough for a bus ticket and one month’s rent. But it could get her through until she found a job.

  “I’ll float you some. You can pay me back when you’re a rich and famous artist.”

  She wanted to protest but knew she couldn’t. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I’ll take you to the bus station in the morning.”

  “The bus to Seattle leaves at 11:30.” She’d memorized the schedule years ago, planning her escape.

  “I’ll be here to get you.”

  * * *

  She slept fitfully that night and woke late the next morning, hot under her bed covers. The air reeked of smoke. Her sunburned skin stung. She threw back the covers, longing for the feel of water on her scorched arms and legs. She dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt. On her way down the hall she paused in front of her mother’s room, leaning for a moment on the closed door. A bird’s summer song drifted in through the open hall window. Her mother snored softly inside the room. She put her hand on the doorknob to go in like she did every morning but then hesitated. The familiar sadness crept in but she forced the feelings inside, scratching her sunburned arms with her fingernails, drawing blood. The river beckoned to her, as if it called her name. She withdrew her hand from the door and walked away, down the hall and the creaky stairs, all the while hearing a call to the river, knowing that she would not look back again.

  In the yard the sky felt long and hazy, different than the day before. She knew it would be a scorcher, unusual for June. She walked the path towards the swimming hole. At the swing, she paused, holding the rough rope between her fingers, wondering what it felt like to fly over the river and then plunge into the mystery of its waters without fear or hesitation. She took the worn path to the water, slipping several times but going on anyway, determined to be brave. At the river’s edge, she inched in, her overheated skin shocked at the cold. When the water reached her shoulders she moved her arms in a circular motion, pretending to swim, keeping her feet anchored to the sandy floor. Then she bent her knees, closing her eyes and submerging her head under the water. She stayed like that with her eyes scrunched closed until the coolness seeped in through her skin and reached the place inside her where hope and despair lived side by side. She imagined the pain of her childhood diminishing to flecks of ice. Her feet came off the ground and she opened her eyes. She was floating. Her hair streamed out in front of her as her t-shirt ballooned around her body like a safety device, bubbles escaping from her shorts. The gray floor of the river hosted several red crawfish and a school of minnows swam around her. Infinitesimal specks of fluorescent algae drifted through the water, illuminated by the pelting sunlight. She felt triumphant. She was refreshed, cool at last.

  * * *

  Later that morning Mrs. White came in her truck, beeping her horn to let Lee know she’d arrived. Eleanor was on the porch already. Lee took her suitcase in hand, looking around the shabby house one last time. She wanted desperately to go but felt that nudge of guilt, knowing she was all her mother had in the world.

  Eleanor leaned against a porch post, smoking a cigarette, dressed in a faded blue, tattered housecoat. Mrs. White’s acute eyes watched from the truck. Lee reached to hug her mother, smelling the familiar scent of vodka and cigarettes, but the suitcases made it an awkward bump of shoulders. “I’ll visit soon,” said Lee, lying.

  “You’ll be back soon enough. It’s not as easy out there as you think. You’ll see.”

  “Alright, well, I love you.” The words felt strangled, unfamiliar.

  Her mother took a drag of her cigarette and swept her hand in the air as if she were ridding herself of junk. “Go on now, Ellen’s waiting for you.” Lee turned and walked down the steps of the porch and into the waiting truck, raging suddenly against her mother for making what should be a victorious sweep to art school one last bitter moment in Lee’s mouth.

  * * *

  They drove the thirty minutes to the bus depot in silence. Lee’s stomach was nervous, her mind racing. She started to cry when she saw the bus depot sign. Mrs. White handed her a tissue. Lee took it, blowing her nose angrily. Lee was relieved that Mrs. White didn’t say something trite, meant to be comforting like adults sometimes did. She just parked silently and hauled the suitcase out of the back of the truck with one hand.

  Lee walked to the booth and bought a one-way ticket to Seattle. She checked her suitcase but kept her canvas bag with her wallet, a book, and sketch pad for the trip. Mrs. White handed her a paper bag that smelled of cinnamon. “I baked you a few things. It’s a long ways. You best call me when you get there. Collect.”

  “Alright. You’ll tell my mother?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Then they stood on the hot cement that smelled of urine and spilled oil, waiting for the sign to board. Lee sniffed and wiped her eyes with the tissue.

  After a time Mrs. White cleared her throat and without looking at Lee said, “My husband was a drunk too, mean as the day is long after a half a bottle of Jim Beam. It’s a heartbreaking way to live and I’m sure if your mother could help it, she would live a different way. But that isn’t your concern any longer. You’ve done your time. I’ll look after your mother, so don’t worry about her. Just go live your life.”

  “What if I don’t know how?” The tears started again, in furious little streams down her cheeks.

  Mrs. White crossed her arm and pursed her lips, looking over at her with flashing eyes. “Nonsense. You’ll figure it out. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.” She nodded towards the bus. “It’s time.” She gave Lee a slight push. Before Lee put her foot on that first step, she turned back to Mrs. White and called out, “Thank you.”

  “Go get ‘em,” she called back, smiling.

  Inside the bus it was air conditioned and smelled of stale cigarette smoke. It was nearly empty so she chose the front seat, close to the driver, for safety’s sake. She looked out the window. Mrs. White was still there. Lee waved. Mrs. White waved back.

  Chapter 1

  Lee shuddered under the awning of her condominium building on Seattle’s Second and Blanchard, searching vainly in the dark for the man who called himself Von. It was midnight and the wind off the Puget Sound was fierce, bringing the scent of seaweed and fish along with a chill that seemed to penetrate through her clothing and into her bones so that her teeth chattered like a child’s at an early morning swimming lesson. Across the street was a black sedan, parked in the same spot for a week, a man watching her every move. For the fifth time in five minutes she felt the inside pocket of her mint green pea coat for the cashier’s check and, reassured it was
there, withdrew her hands into the sleeves. The rain pooled on the roof of the glass awning and dripped onto the cement in a steady, mind numbing rhythm. A sudden distant shout from late night drinkers feeling a different kind of buzz made her jump.

  Then she saw a shadow across the street, a figure dragging one foot slightly behind the other in a limp. He nodded at her and walked across the street to where she waited, feeling small and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.

  “You able to get it?” He stood in front of her, shaking the rain from his Mariners’ cap, a splash landing on her face. With the palm of his hand he smoothed the few wisps of brown hair on his otherwise bare head.

  “Yes.”

  He stepped closer and she smelled rank cigarette smoke on his coat. “Good.”

  She handed him the envelope and wrapped her arms around herself to stop shaking.

  He licked his index finger and lifted the check from the envelope. His eyes darted to the amount and then to her face. His eyes glittered but his voice was low, without emotion. “This is only half.”

  Her voice wavered and cracked. “I couldn’t get it all.”

  He put the check in his jacket and Lee caught sight of the shiny handle of a handgun. He put a cigarette in his mouth. “I said all of it.”

  “I sold everything we had.”

  He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly. “You gotta get me that money.”

  Lee’s eyes stung from the smoke that drifted around her face. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “This is to show you I’m good for it, that I don’t plan to cheat you. I can get it eventually but I need some time.”