you’re leaving?”
“Something’s come up,” Babs told her. “We’ve got to go.”
“Something came up? Between last night and this morning?” Mary Jane didn’t seem to believe it. “What about Laney’s school? Should I still pick her up this afternoon?”
“She won’t be going back to that school.”
That statement stopped me in my tracks.
“I’m not going back to my school?”
Babs didn’t answer, she hurried me even more forcefully. When she got the car door open, she actually picked me up and sat me inside.
“Where will you be?” Mary Jane continued. “How will I contact you?”
There was an instant of speechless hesitation on my mother’s part and then she responded decisively.
“We’re going back to California,” she said.
“What?” The incredulous response was spoken by Mary Jane and me both.
“Some of Tom’s friends have found me a great job,” she continued. “But I’ve got to hurry out there. I’ll call you when I get an address.”
“It’s all so sudden, too sudden,” Mary Jane said. “You were going to help me get to the hospital.”
The last sounded almost accusing.
“If Burl can’t get here to pick you up, maybe you should call a cab,” Babs said.
“A cab?”
“Look, I’ve got to go,” my mom told her. “I should have been out on the road at dawn.”
“Okay, okay.” Mary Jane’s voice was quiet, almost forlorn.
My mom stopped then, next to the car and gave Mary Jane a little hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll be fine, everything will be fine. I’ve got to get on the road immediately. I’ll call you, I promise.”
A minute later Babs was behind the steering wheel, backing out of the driveway. As soon as we were turned forward in the street, she hit the gas, a little too hard and we squealed away from the duplex and Mary Jane.
“We’re going back to California?” I asked.
“No,” my mother replied.
I was stunned to think that Babs had lied to Mary Jane. But I didn’t question her about that, my curiosity about my future was a much stronger concern.
“Where are we going?”
She glanced over at me, clearly annoyed. “I don’t know that yet,” she said. “We’re just leaving.”
I didn’t think that could be true. She rushed so forcefully ahead, driving faster than usual and barely pausing at stop signs. We raced through parts of town that were completely unfamiliar. The wind that blew inside my window all new and never seen. The truth of her statement became clear when she pulled into an empty church parking lot. She turned off the ignition and laid her head down on the steering wheel.
“What are we doing?”
“Shhhh!” she answered. “I’m trying to think.”
I kept quiet, but her thinking took a very long time. Finally I got my schoolbag out and began to sort through my things. I found some chalk and got out of the car and drew a hopscotch on the concrete. I was really good at hopping. I could even make the circle turnaround on one foot without losing my balance. Nobody at my kindergarten was that good and some of the girls in first grade couldn’t do it. I entertained myself with the game. That was okay for a while, but eventually, I got tired of playing all by myself. I wished I was at my school. It was probably recess by now. All the kids would be having fun. I couldn’t believe that I would never go back there. That couldn’t really happen, I assured myself. Then I remembered our house in California, my sidewalk, my neighbors. One day it was there and the next it was all gone forever. Yesterday I had friends and went to school. And today I was stuck in an empty parking lot. I didn’t like being alone, but I didn’t get back into the car.
Babs was crying now. It wasn’t the little tears of a skinned knee or a broken toy. She was wailing as if my dad had died all over again. I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. I sat down next to the car, leaned my back against the wheel and waited
“Something’s come up,” Babs told her. “We’ve got to go.”
“Something came up? Between last night and this morning?” Mary Jane didn’t seem to believe it. “What about Laney’s school? Should I still pick her up this afternoon?”
“She won’t be going back to that school.”
That statement stopped me in my tracks.
“I’m not going back to my school?”
Babs didn’t answer, she hurried me even more forcefully. When she got the car door open, she actually picked me up and sat me inside.
“Where will you be?” Mary Jane continued. “How will I contact you?”
There was an instant of speechless hesitation on my mother’s part and then she responded decisively.
“We’re going back to California,” she said.
“What?” The incredulous response was spoken by Mary Jane and me both.
“Some of Tom’s friends have found me a great job,” she continued. “But I’ve got to hurry out there. I’ll call you when I get an address.”
“It’s all so sudden, too sudden,” Mary Jane said. “You were going to help me get to the hospital.”
The last sounded almost accusing.
“If Burl can’t get here to pick you up, maybe you should call a cab,” Babs said.
“A cab?”
“Look, I’ve got to go,” my mom told her. “I should have been out on the road at dawn.”
“Okay, okay.” Mary Jane’s voice was quiet, almost forlorn.
My mom stopped then, next to the car and gave Mary Jane a little hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll be fine, everything will be fine. I’ve got to get on the road immediately. I’ll call you, I promise.”
A minute later Babs was behind the steering wheel, backing out of the driveway. As soon as we were turned forward in the street, she hit the gas, a little too hard and we squealed away from the duplex and Mary Jane.
“We’re going back to California?” I asked.
“No,” my mother replied.
I was stunned to think that Babs had lied to Mary Jane. But I didn’t question her about that, my curiosity about my future was a much stronger concern.
“Where are we going?”
She glanced over at me, clearly annoyed. “I don’t know that yet,” she said. “We’re just leaving.”
I didn’t think that could be true. She rushed so forcefully ahead, driving faster than usual and barely pausing at stop signs. We raced through parts of town that were completely unfamiliar. The wind that blew inside my window all new and never seen. The truth of her statement became clear when she pulled into an empty church parking lot. She turned off the ignition and laid her head down on the steering wheel.
“What are we doing?”
“Shhhh!” she answered. “I’m trying to think.”
I kept quiet, but her thinking took a very long time. Finally I got my schoolbag out and began to sort through my things. I found some chalk and got out of the car and drew a hopscotch on the concrete. I was really good at hopping. I could even make the circle turnaround on one foot without losing my balance. Nobody at my kindergarten was that good and some of the girls in first grade couldn’t do it. I entertained myself with the game. That was okay for a while, but eventually, I got tired of playing all by myself. I wished I was at my school. It was probably recess by now. All the kids would be having fun. I couldn’t believe that I would never go back there. That couldn’t really happen, I assured myself. Then I remembered our house in California, my sidewalk, my neighbors. One day it was there and the next it was all gone forever. Yesterday I had friends and went to school. And today I was stuck in an empty parking lot. I didn’t like being alone, but I didn’t get back into the car.
Babs was crying now. It wasn’t the little tears of a skinned knee or a broken toy. She was wailing as if my dad had died all over again. I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. I sat down next to the car, leaned my back against the wheel and waited
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