A Gray Life: a novel (5 page)

August 9th
 

 
I feel odd writing about today’s little highlights, but I might was well put it down like I have everything else.

Louise and The Man were in the kill room earlier;
nothin’ special about that. Their grunts and cries ceased, and Louise came out of the room. Excuse me: she got kicked out. Literally. The Man booted her out with His foot up her ass (sorry again, Mom.).

While Louise
tripped over herself, He was rantin’ and hollerin’. It was hard to hear Him above Louise’s cries. The Man hadn’t even allowed her to get dressed. Michael took his blanket and rushed to cover his wife, whose crying subsided to sad, wet whimpers. I could see why she was in such pain. She had a bloody lip, scratches on her back, and a few bruises on her face.

“Bitch.”
He zipped up His pants. “My name is Peter, not 
Ryan
. Fucking
puta
.”

Michael
’s concern for his wife faded into something else, especially when Louise didn’t deny His accusations. She shivered under her army blanket.

The Man was on His way upst
airs, but He wasn’t finished. Before He left us, He went to Michael’s side.

In a loud stage-whisper, He said, “Tell your whore wife
when I want her to moan my name, I want to hear 
my 
goddamn name, not some jerk-off she let come inside her way back when.” He paused. “Say, you’re name’s not Ryan, is it?”

As He walked up the stairs, He snapped his fingers as if remembering something.

“Michael! That’s it. You’re name is Michael.”

The Man’s laugh echoed as He closed the basement door, sliding the bolt home.

* * * *

The car was surprisingly clean inside. Outside, it was dented, paint fading, spots on the hood rusting. On the inside, the suede seat covers were as spotless as the gleaming dashboard. It was a modest truck, but it was nicer than the inside of Ashley’s motel room
had been. From the outside of the Coach Inn, she had known her room was going to look bad, but she hadn’t been prepared for how greasy everything would be. It was the only word she had for it; everything she touched or looked at in her hotel room had been greasy. She felt comfortable in her new friend’s car.

No one
said anything for the first two minutes of the ride. It wasn’t because Ashley didn’t like the driver. She had liked Strawberry as soon as she had heard her voice. She liked her even more when she had ditched her tough-girl act and started speaking to Ashley like a human being.
No more twang or dropping her g's in conversation. Just normal sounding words coming from a normal sounding voice. 
Nothing's really normal anymore
, Ashley reminded herself.

It was silly, but
her age inspired Ashley’s confidence in her abilities. Gloria was twenty-four, an issue Ashley hadn’t been able to get past. And while she may have been a bitch, Gloria had at least seemed like a capable bitch. Yes, twenty-five was oceans apart from twelve, and therefore Ashley felt safe with her new friend. She wished to name a destination, but had no idea where to go. The Coach Inn was her one and only idea.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Ashley
admitted.

“Most twelve-year olds don’t.”

Strawberry was wise. Ashley didn’t know any friends with future plans beyond what to wear to school the next morning.

“There’s now
here for me to go.”

“I’m guessing
you weren’t planning a permanent stay at the Coach Inn. Where were you headed after that?”

“The airport.”

“Are you meeting someone there?”

“Nope.”

Strawberry reminded her how alone she was, and she didn't like it.

“How do you expect to get past the check-in counter?”

Strawberry poked a hole in her plan, and she really didn't like it.

Ashley gave her a blank look.

“You’re only twelve. They won’t let you get far without adult consent.” She paused and Ashley became aware of a tingling sensation passing over her. “And no, I can’t do it for you. I would, but I can’t.”

Somehow,
Strawberry knew what she was going to ask. Ashley’s thoughts had followed the logical course, a predictable course. A genius didn't need to figure into it. Still, the tingling sensation had freaked her out. It was like being searched, and she didn't know what it wanted.

Strawberry
is right again
, a voice said. Ashley would need an adult to get her past security at the airport. Her first plan was a bust.

Her life ahead
looked bleak. Moving from hotel to hotel, using up her money until it was gone. Eventually, she would have to make money of her own. Maybe she would have to choose the same career path as her new friend.
No
. Ashley shook her head. No.

“Y
ou might as well stop the car right now. I have nowhere I can go. Another motel isn't going to work. I can’t live in a motel. But if I can’t check in at the airport, that’s exactly what I’ll have to do.”

Strawberry
voiced a solution to Ashley's problem.

“I’m in no position to ask you why you’re on the run, but I think I can help you stay on the run.”

Her mysterious savior was more mysterious by the minute.

“How?”

“I know someone who can help you get past airport check-in.”

Flashing
red and blue lights behind them stalled the conversation.

Strawberry
looked in her rearview mirror.

“
Goddamnit. I wasn’t even speeding.”

She scanned the narrow road, looking for a suitable place on the shoulder to park on. Ashley felt a lead ball in her stomach, pulling her down. Her lips were dry, and she
found it hard to form words. She forced them out of her mouth anyway.

“Please, don’t stop.”

They were looking for her. They had to be. Cops were smart, and knew how to find people. Now they had found her.
They’ll take me to a foster home.
She remembered the boy from the alley, the one who’s face had changed in the water.
I can’t stay
.

“Please, don’t stop.” She repeated her request because the first time, it had been spoken too softly to be heard. Strawberry heard her the second time.

“Don’t stop?” Her eyebrow arched. “What did you do, little girl?”

“I didn’t do anything
.” Through her desperation, she sounded like she was lying. “Please believe me!” She hoped Strawberry would take the three words as gospel.

Sirens came
from the police car. It drove a few feet closer behind them, insisting compelling them to pull over.

Over the sound of the sirens, Ashley heard a faint buzzing. Then, she
felt
the buzzing. It didn’t brush over her head as it had before; it invaded her head. Twisting, turning, a foreign thing inside of her. It was horrifying, but the physical feelings it evoked weren’t unpleasant. The unknown aspect made it most uncomfortable.

Get
it out, get it out!
Ashley wanted to claw at her head, but as soon as she thought it, the buzzing stopped.

Strawberry pull
ed the car onto the side of the road.

“Why won’t you believe
me?” Ashley wanted to bawl.

Her life was over. The cop would approach the car and take her away to live with strangers. When the city finally crumbled, she would die with strangers.

“I do believe you.” Strawberry reached into her glove compartment, and Ashley saw three sets of wallets. Underneath the one the woman retrieved, she saw a large gun. “But this car has passed the age when it could outrun cop cars.”

She scrubbed make-up from her face as she spoke, pulling on a jacket over her skin-tight dress.
From a pocket in the jacket, she took out black-rimmed glasses. With the glasses on and the make-up off, Strawberry looked older, but not by much.

“Why do you have a gun?”

“It’s a just-in-case.”

“Just in case what?”

Strawberry smiled. “Just-in-case-I-wanna-shoot-someone.”

Ashley
pictured herself running from the cab of the truck and into the trees that lined the road, but she wouldn’t get far. A cop walked up to the truck, and she was trapped inside with a psychotic hooker.

Another time, she would’ve categorized her evening as an epic adventure of Frodo-like pr
oportions, encountering odd and horrible things on her journey. The odd and horrible things were trees in her path, meant to slow her down, make her turn back. She would not slow down, and she would not turn back. There was no back. Ashley saw herself climbing over the fallen trees, scraping her hands and knees until she reached the end of her journey.
Dad would want me to keep going, but how many more crazy things am I gonna have to go through?

“License and registration, please.”

The police officer was a woman. Ashley didn’t know why it made her feel better, but it did.

Strawberry seemed relaxed
, too.

She handed over the necessary papers and ID. Ashley leaned over to read the name next to the picture: Grace something or other.

“Grace Holden.” The officer read aloud. “Well, Ms. Holden, you have a tail-light out.”

“Oh no.”
Strawberry clucked her tongue. “I have a spare bulb-kit at home. I’ll change it as soon as I get there.”

The officer squinted at Strawberry. “And where exactly is home?”

She calmly recited an address. The cop read the ID, nodding along with the words. After, she grunted as if in approval.

“I’ll let you get home, then.
Although, I am recording this stop as a formal warning. Fix that light, and get your daughter home.”

“Yes ma’am.” Strawberry
nodded her head now.

“Have a good night, drive safe.”

“I will. You too, ma’am.”

She waited until the cop car drove away before starting the truck engine.

“Whew.” Strawberry let out a long breath. Then she laughed.

Ashley was relieved too, but she didn’t feel like laughing. She wanted to know what was so funny.

“She…” Strawberry was laughing and couldn’t speak. “She thought you were my daughter!”

Even
in semi-normal clothes, she didn’t look old enough to be Ashley’s.

Ashley grinned.
She wouldn’t allow herself to laugh. On the night she lost her family, laughing didn’t seem appropriate. She could admit Strawberry was right, as she had been various times.

It was a little bit funny.

****

August 11th

Well, shoot.

When you’re trapped in a basement with strangers, dirty laundry is bound to air itself.

For Michael and Louise, whole steaming heaps of their unmentionables have been flung around.

Ever since Louise’s
 
Peter/Ryan
 mix-up, Michael’s been looking at his wife differently. There’s not a whole lot of love in his stares either.

T
hey hide in the bathroom to try and make their blow-outs more private, but everyone can hear. I try not to listen, but with all the yelling and 
eff
 words, it’s hard not to. Ever the Nosey-Nancy, Erin perks up her ears anytime the couple takes their fights to the loo. Ha-ha, loo.

Anyway, this afternoon, Michael and Louise had a major
loo-fight. Plenty of yelling going back and forth, so I’ll skip to the important parts. The sad parts, really.

I heard Louise say, “I’m sorry. Please, don’t.”

Michael: “God, I knew. I 
knew
.”

Louise: “I was lonely. That’s no excuse, but you were alway
s working so late.”

“Yeah, but Ryan?
My best friend?”