Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred (12 page)

INSTEAD OF GOING HOME, WHERE I'M SURE TO GET IN TROUBLE FOR LEAVING
without telling my dad, I walk to a convenience store, buy a soda,
and make a phone call from the pay phone. I call information and
ask for the phone number of Rod Udell, my mom's brother, and wait
as they put my call through.

"Hello," says a guy's sleepy voice.

"Uncle Rod?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Ruth. You know, Fran's daughter."

"Oh, yeah. What's up, Ruth?"

"I wanted to get in touch with Caleb. He told me I could find
him through you."

"He did, did he?"

"Look, Uncle Rod. Things aren't going too well at home right now.
I need to talk to Caleb. I need to tell him something important."

"You sure you're not going to tell your daddy where Caleb is
staying?"

"I could've already told him that Caleb's at Grandma's out on
Ferris Road. But I didn't. I wouldn't do that."

"Where are you now?"

So I tell him where I am and he says to wait there, and that he'll come and get me. "I need to go out that way anyway," he says.

So I sit down on the curb by the convenience store and wait
until an old brown pickup pulls up, making a cloud of exhaust,
and my uncle waves from behind the steering wheel. He's wearing a
beat-up straw cowboy hat and a friendly grin.

I wave back, surprisingly glad to see him. I think it's been several
years now But for some reason I've always liked this guy. Maybe
because he's so laid-back, so totally different from my dad. His black
hair is long, pulled back in a tail, and tied with a piece of leather.
And he has several tattoos on his arms.

"Hey, you're all grown up, Ruth," he says as I climb into the
truck. "You're getting to be a real pretty girl too."

"Thanks," I say, feeling self-conscious.

"You know, your mom was a real beauty when she was
younger."

"I know ..."

"So how's she doing anyway?"

"Not so good."

He frowns. "That's pretty much what Caleb said. I don't see why
she doesn't just pack it up and leave Stuart for good. Can't she see
that he's no good for her? He's no good for any of you."

"I think she's kind of stuck. I think we're all kind of stuck."

"At least Caleb had the sense to get away"

"But for how long?" I ask. "I mean, Dad's going to find him
eventually."

"There are people who can help." He turns onto the highway.

"Like social services?" I ask. "I've heard about how lielpful they
can be."

"You never know. I had a girlfriend once who was a social worker
for the state. I know she tried to help people. But it wasn't easy."

I want to change the subject. "Are you still doing your art?"

He nods. "Yep. And music too. My hand has been getting some
pretty good gigs lately"

"I'm into art too."

"Really?" He tosses me a sideways glance. "Cool."

So I tell him a little about the art fair and the kinds of stuff I
really like doing. And he tells me about a mural he's working on.
And suddenly I'm thinking, This feels like family. This feels like what
I've been missing. But my dad has made sure that none of my mom's
relatives ever feel comfortable at our house. Mom used to take Caleb
and me to visit them, without letting my dad know. of course. But
we didn't go nearly as much as we got older. And even less when
Mom started getting "sick."

Uncle Rod turns onto Ferris Road, goes about a mile or so, then
turns onto another road, this one is gravel. I'm actually trying not
to pay too much attention, just in case my dad grills me on where
Caleb is. I don't really want to know how to find this place.

Finally we pull up in front of an old mobile home. The kind that
is long and narrow and pretty cheesy looking. But there's a covered
deck attached to the front and lots of good shade trees around, and
I see a barn and what looks like a couple of paint horses back to one
side of it. In a way, this whole place is kind of sweet looking. Kinda
funky, homey. And I remember now that Grandma Donna always
liked horses. My first memory of her is of her putting me on a pony
and leading me around in a circle. I think the pony's name was Sugar.

"This is it," says Uncle Rod. "Mom's brother, my Uncle Lane,
owns this piece of property. But he's letting her use it for as long as
she wants. Needs sonic work, but it's not too bad."

The inside of the mobile home is shabby but cozy. The furniture is draped in several of the same kind of brightly colored afghan throws that my morn uses, giving the house kind of a carnival feel.
My grandma loves to crochet, and she loves wild color combinations. She used to ask me what colors I would want in one, but at
the time I wasn't too interested. Maybe I am now. Maybe I'll be like
Mom and keep one of Grandma's afghans as a security blanket when
my life totally falls apart.

No one seems to be around. "Hello?" calls Uncle Rod.

"Coming," calls a woman's voice from one end of the long, shadowy house. "Is that you, Rodney?"

"Yeah, and I've brought a visitor."

Her dark eyes grow large when she steps out into the living room
and sees me. "Frances?" Then she stops and sort of laughs when she
realizes it's not her daughter. "Well, of course not. Why, this must be
Ruth!" She hurries straight toward me and hugs me tightly against
her bony self. Then she holds me back by the shoulders and really
looks at my face. "You sure threw me for a loop there, girl. I thought
you were my Frances. You look a lot like her, you know?"

"That's what I hear." But all I can imagine is how old and tired my
morn looks these days, shuffling around in her grungy green bathrobe, stringy gray hair hanging in her face. Not a pretty picture.

"How is she?" asks Grandma Donna. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's pretty much the same as when Caleb left.
Nothing's wrong, if that's what you mean. I mean, nothing new
anyway."

She nods knowingly then sighs.

"Where's Caleb?" I ask.

"Out tending the livestock."

"I saw horses. Is there more than that?"

"Two paints, a couple of steers, several sheep, and too many
chickens."

"Wow. How much land do you have?"

"Lane said it's about twenty acres. Not much, but more than
enough for an old woman like me."

"I'll go out and let Caleb know you're here," says Uncle Rod.

"Has it been nice having Caleb here?" I ask hopefully. "I mean,
is he helping you some?"

She smiles, revealing a missing tooth off to one side. "Caleb's a
pure delight. And what a worker. I guess he learned that much from
your father." But the way she says this doesn't make it sound like a
genuine compliment.

"And you have enough room for him here?" I glance around the
small living room.

"I've got two bedrooms. One was full of my junk. But Caleb and
I got it cleaned out and moved to a shed out back, and he seems just
fine."

"Are you worried about what my dad's going to do?"

She frowns now. "Well, I've wondered if we should call someone." Then she shakes her head. "I wanted Caleb to tell his mother
where he was, but he refused. He says she'll tell your dad and that
he'll be in bad trouble for sure."

I nod. "Yeah, that's probably true." I'm actually wondering if
there's enough room for me to hide out here too. But I know there's
probably not. Besides, Grandma Wallace knows what's going on
now. She might help to get things changed.

When Caleb comes in, we go out onto the front porch, and I
tell him about my conversation with our other grandma. I tell him
about what she said about Dad.

"So?" he says finally in a blase tone.

"Well, I thought you might want to know." I feel slightly defensive. "I thought it might give you some hope."

"Hope for what?"

"That maybe things could change. Maybe Dad will listen to
Grandpa and Grandma. Maybe he'll start treating us right."

Caleb kind of laughs now. "You really think so, Ruth? You
honestly think that Dad can change?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Why not?"

"I think you're as dumb as Dad says you are." He turns away
from me and I suspect he's thinking about my dirty little secret now.

"Thanks a lot." I stand up, mad that he'd say something like
that. Especially after I came out here to encourage him.

"Don't get mad at me," he says, standing too. "Dad's the one
who screwed everything up."

"But maybe things can get better. I mean if Dad changed, maybe
Mom would get well. Maybe we could-"

"Be one big happy family?" He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. And
maybe we'll win the lottery too. And maybe there's a Santa Claus
and an Easter bunny Get real, Ruth. Nothing's gonna change. And
if you're smart, you'll figure out how to take care of yourself before
you go down with them."

Now I don't know what to say. I wonder why I even bothered to
come out here.

"And just for the record, I am not going home." He shoves his
hands into his jeans pockets. "I'd rather run away for good and live
on the streets. Anything would be better than living with Dad."

"Well, maybe you'll get to stay on here," I say, forcing my voice
to be light and positive. "Maybe Grandma Donna can help you
figure things out so it'll be legal. And since there's only a couple
more weeks of school, you'll have all summer to work things out."
I want to add, "And aren't you the lucky one?" I want to let him
know that he's not making life any easier for me. And that the anger Dad used to divvy up between the two of us is totally mine now. But
what would be the use? Caleb has obviously landed in a good spot.
Why try to take that from him? Besides, maybe I'll have Grandma
Wallace to back me now. And Grandpa too. Maybe things are about
to get better.

We talk a little more, and I can tell that Uncle Rod is antsy to go.
So I tell Caleb I love him and that I hope he can stay on here. Then
I hug Grandma Donna again, and I tell her that it might help Mom
if she would come visit sometime. "I mean, when Dad's at work," I
say quickly.

"Yes," she says sadly. "I'm not stupid, Ruth. I wouldn't dream
of coming around when Stuart's at home. That wouldn't help
anything."

I feel slightly encouraged as Uncle Rod drives us back to town. I
ask him to drop me a few blocks from the house and he just laughs.
"Don't want your old man to see who's bringing you home, eh?"

"Well, he might suspect that I've been to see Caleb. He might
figure out that you're involved somehow" And while that's partly
true, I am actually more worried about myself. I am trying to avoid
the tongue lashing I will surely get for having gone someplace with
someone from my mom's side of the family. Some Native American
heritage might rub off on me, for crying out loud.

To my relief, Dad's not even home when I walk into the house.
It's nearly three now, and I suspect I should hang around here and
lay low until Dad gets back. Maybe I can pretend like I haven't been
gone at all.

Dad gets home around five. As it turns out, he's been over at
his parents' house. Apparently they called him when Grandpa got
home from golfing, and they have spent the entire afternoon talking. Talking and talking and talking.

Now, if my life was bad before I told Grandma Wallace about
Dad, it's gone totally to hell now. Not only did Grandpa not say
anything to straighten Dad out but the tables have turned, and now
everyone thinks I went crying to Grandma simply because I'd been
"disciplined" for dating a boy without Dad's permission. That's the
picture Dad painted when he went to "smooth things over" with
them. Apparently they believed him too, because according to my
dad they're now convinced that both Caleb and I are real juvenile
delinquents.

"I'm sick and tired of the way you kids are behaving!" Dad yells
at me as he storms into the kitchen where I've retreated, thinking he
was done lecturing me. But it seems he is only getting warmed up.
I lean against the kitchen counter and stare blankly at him, bracing
myself for the second half.

"Getting your grandma all worked up over nothing! You should
be ashamed of yourself, Ruth. That poor woman already has high
blood pressure and diabetes, and now she's sick in bed from all your
stupidity."

He shakes his finger in my face now, so close that I can smell the
nicotine on it-although he pretends that he doesn't smoke. "I'm
warning you, Ruth Anne, don't you go shooting your mouth off to
them again-not ever again! It's bad enough your brother's gone
missing. I don't need you running around town trying to stir things
up, making things worse."

I'd like to say that I was trying to make things better. But I know
it's useless. I can't actually speak at the moment, and even if I could,
he wouldn't listen.

"And, just in case you didn't know it, you're grounded, young
lady! I don't want you going anywhere besides school and home
until the school year ends. And you'll be riding the bus from now on. No more running around with your stupid friends!" He swears now.
"It's probably those useless peers that are influencing you like this."

So many things I wish I could say to him. How I'd like to
straighten him out. I wish I could yell and scream too. I wish I could
tell him that he's a big, stupid jerk and that our messed up lives are
all his fault. I wish I were brave enough to ask him how he used
to feel when his mother treated him like this-and is he proud of
himself for being just like her? But, as usual, I keep my mouth shut
so tight that my jaw begins to ache. And then, when he is finally
done, I turn and walk away.

And I know where I'm going, I know what I'm going to do. And
I just don't really care anymore. Why fight it?