Part 2: 2 - Collapse
Demo Day in Barb's world
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 2: 1 - Outside of Time Love, anger, and chocolate chip cookies
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
2 - Collapse
Barb Ames
June 11, 1988
La Mesa, California
Barb hit rewind again until she was back at the beginning of Van Halen’s Best of Both Worlds. Sound swept in through her headphones and she danced her way through the pile of dishes in the sink. It was Charlie’s tape, a little bribe from Dad the last time he picked him up, but the music matched her mood and the little punk was still asleep. According to the note on the fridge, Mom would be home from her night shift at the Super 8 by nine-thirty this morning, so Barb let him sleep. There would be plenty of time for her to roust him and hand him a package of pop tarts before they came to Demo Day.
All the dishes dried and put away, she stuffed the last of the horse carrots into her backpack. One more chance to spoil her girl, but maybe it wouldn’t be the last. Mr. Allen had said they might have summer work for her. She crossed her fingers.
The phone rang. Barb hung the headphones around her neck and picked up the receiver with a smile and said, “Ames household,” hoping it was Mom getting off work early.
Instead, it was Ed saying, “Bad news. I can’t get the bug started. I would ask my mom to pick you up, but my folks went to Julian for the weekend. Travis is gonna take me to work, but he can’t pick you up.”
It was no big shock. “No problem. I’ll just take the bus. Thanks, Ed.”
She put her headphones back on and pulled the bus schedule off the fridge to study the tiny time grid. The only bus that would get her to Dehesa Valley before eleven left her stop at 8:50 AM. The kitchen wall clock read eight forty-seven. Was that clock a couple minutes fast, or was it slow?
“Oh shit!” If she didn’t hustle, she was going to miss the bus! She grabbed her backpack, locked the front door, and ran.
She had to run the whole way, and she barely made it, jumping onto the bus as the doors closed. The bus ride was not so bad, although it took most of an hour to get there with all the stops. She hardly noticed the time with the music. Allen Haven was just a mile walk on the wide shoulder of the highway, and most of it was flat. It didn’t get steep until Blue Haven Lane. Barb was almost at the corner when a Sheriff’s car slowly passed and stopped in front of her. A small muscular deputy with spiky black hair stepped out of the car and walked up to her.
He said, “Are you Barb Ames?”
Barb glanced around nervously. “Yeah?” Uh oh. Did Charlie do something? Ride a skateboard in the wrong place? Would they send a deputy to find me for that?
“You live at 7149 Amherst in La Mesa?”
“Uh. Yes?” Barb answered. How does he know where I live?
“Do you know Dani Cartwright?” he asked, squinting into the morning sun.
“Yes,” Barb said. So this wasn’t about Charlie?
His eyes seemed to bore into hers. He said, “Do you know where she is right now?”
She stepped back a foot but then straightened and met his eyes again. “Dani? Uh, at her house?”
“When did you last see her?” The deputy asked.
“Yesterday,” Barb said.
He nodded. “You didn’t see her this morning? Her mother indicated she might have gotten into a white Volkswagen Beetle with you and another teen.”
“No, sir. . . My cousin couldn’t pick me up. I took the bus. That’s why I’m here walking.” She didn’t mean to sound snarky, but it seemed obvious to her.
“The bus,” he said, nodding again, “Is there a horse show up on Blue Haven Lane today?”
“Uh. Demonstration Day. Yeah. I gave her some tickets. . . That was yesterday.” The deputy just stared at her. She shifted her feet and then added, “She couldn’t have gotten a ride with me, anyway. No guests are allowed past the gate until eleven.”
“Where did you get on the bus?” He asked.
“Over on El Cajon Boulevard,” Barb said.
The deputy gave Barb a puzzled look, or maybe it was his squint into the sun.
“It’s near 70th,” she said, “Just past the Sunny Donuts.”
He nodded. “Any chance Dani might have followed you onto the bus?”
Barb put a hand to her jaw and turned her head, thinking. I did jump onto the bus with my headphones on . . . “No,” she said. “I would have known. She’s not shy.”
“And you didn’t see her at the bus stop?” The deputy asked.
“No.” Barb racked her brain. “I was running. I didn’t see anyone, though.”
“Where did you get off the bus?”
“Down there by the Circle K,” Barb pointed behind her.
“Hold on a moment.” The deputy ducked into his car. There were radio beeps and crackles. She didn’t hear what he was saying, but the woman on the other end sounded official, calling out codes.
Barb was getting impatient. Dani was probably at a friend’s house in the neighborhood and forgot to tell her mom. Charlie sometimes wandered off without telling her where he was going. Her mom must have gone bonkers though, and called 911.
When the deputy returned, he handed her a business card, “Thank you, Barb. Please give us a call if you do see Dani.”
“Of course,” Barb said. She tucked the card into her back pocket, relieved as the deputy climbed back into his car and drove away.
Barb shook her head. Dani, Dani, Dani. You’re gonna be in big trouble, kid. Probably won’t be seeing you at Demo Day. She pushed play again and Sammy Hagar was back to lift her mood as she trudged up Blue Haven Lane.
Barb kept looking over her shoulder, watching for Mom and Charlie, as she went about preparing for her demonstrations. She told herself they would be there the moment she stopped looking for them. She was sweeping soft brushes over Fancy’s shiny coat, when she checked her watch again. It was almost noon. The demonstrations were about to start.
Chris and Melissa were the only other graduating students putting on demonstrations this year. Melissa was first in the arena with her horse, Jack. Barb and Fancy were supposed to be next, but Chris was kind enough to switch with her so that she could go last, since Mom and Charlie were running late.
Was that Mom’s car going by when I was tacking up Fancy in the barn? Nope. Maybe they were in the stands and saw Fancy walk under the giant plastic tarp without a flinch. No, not in the stands. Were they over there watching from the shade by the barn? Did they see when Fancy backed perfectly through the water obstacle without slowing, or when she eagerly hopped into the horse trailer?
Mom didn’t see any of it; she and Charlie never showed up. Something was wrong or Mom would have been there. It couldn’t be the car. Ed had dibs on that excuse, but maybe it was. Maybe the car broke down. Couldn’t they have taken the afternoon bus and gotten here at least in time for her explanation of barn and paddock drainage systems?—not the most exciting part of the demonstrations, but it still would have been nice. Charlie must have gotten into some kind of trouble. That was the only possible explanation.
The Allen’s yellow dog, Ginger, followed Barb around most of the day, reflecting her mood with sad eyes and getting lots of pets from her in return. As a reward for her company, Barb tossed the dog half a carrot. She dropped the rest into Fancy’s extra-feed bucket and enjoyed the satisfied crunching as she brushed her down one more time in her stall. Fancy was perfect. She made everything better. She always did. “You’re my girl, aren’t you, Miss Fancy Pants?”
When Mr. Allen popped his head into the stall, he gave gave her a sad look that reminded her of Ginger’s. She wanted to crawl under a rock to hide her disappointment. He knew how much she wanted him to meet Charlie. She struggled to hold back a wave of self-pity and embarrassment that her family never showed up.
But Mr. Allen, mercifully, didn’t bring that up. He said, “Barb, can you come by Monday morning? Mrs. Allen and I would like to talk to you about that summer work, if you’re still interested.”
“Yes,” Barb responded. The clouds parting for a moment, “I am definitely interested. What time?”
He said, “Brilliant. Nine good?”
She would be there on Monday, no matter what.
After scarfing a hotdog, Barb eagerly escaped the crowd of happy families and walked the mile down the highway to the Circle K as if demons were chasing her from the sky. When she got there, she wiped the dried horse sweat from her swatch watch. The bus wouldn’t even be there for another fifteen minutes. She could have asked Mr. Allen to use the office phone to call home before she left the ranch.
Barb reached deep into her jeans pocket and pulled up her bus pass, a quarter, a nickel, a penny, and some alfalfa crumbs. The pay phone was disgusting. The receiver and every button was sticky with somebody’s spilled soda— ugh, she hoped it was spilled soda. Trying not to think about vomit, she dropped her quarter into the slot and called the house. Nobody answered. When the answering machine beeped, she said, “Mom? Charlie? Charlie! . . . Pick up! . . .”
Nothing.
“Damn it!” She slammed the sticky receiver into its cradle. Molten anger overflowed and she kicked the ice bin next to the phone, yelling, “What the hell is going on?!”
Creepy glares multiplied around her. She returned a few, then slunk to the bus stop bench and perched on its edge, staring a hole through the hills between herself and home. What did Charlie do? Did he get hurt doing something stupid on his skateboard? Did he get hit by a car? Were they at the emergency room?
She knew Mom didn’t forget. Not this. No way. And she had drilled it into Charlie’s head that he had to be there too, for that matter. Every stop on the bus felt like it took an hour. When Barb finally unlocked the front door, there was still nobody home. She went straight to the answering machine on the bar above the kitchen counter where she found Charlie’s scribbled note, “Went to RJ’s.”
The first message on the machine was also from Charlie, “Mom. . . Mom? . . . Hey, Mom. I’m at RJ’s. We’re going for lunch.”
The next message was a voice Barb didn’t know. She sounded concerned and overly sweet when she said, “Barbara? It’s Lenore at the Super 8. I work with your mom . . .” The blood slowly drained out of Barb’s face to pool under her ribs somewhere, “Call me when you get this, honey.”
God. Something happened to Mom. The number Lenore left was the same Super 8 number she always used to call Mom at work. A man answered, “Super 8, Spring Street, how can I help you?” Barb recognized Mom’s boss. What was his name? Hanley.
“Mr. Hanley?”
“Yes?” said the man.
“This is Barb Ames. Lenore left a message for me to call . . .”
“Just a moment.” He put her on hold. On hold!
But a moment later, Lenore picked up. “Barbara?” she said, singsong sweet like she was talking to a five-year-old.
“Barb. What’s going on with my mom?”
“Honey, your mom collapsed. I found her unconscious on the floor here when I came in this morning. I called 911. The paramedics took her to Alvarado Hospital.”
Barb hadn’t actually seen her mother for days, though she always knew where she was. Her schedule was paper-clipped to the calendar on the wall. Now that she thought about it, the last time she did see her, she looked more pale and tired than usual.
“Is she okay?” Barb asked.
“Oh, yes, honey. She’s okay. The doctors wouldn’t tell me much, but she’s been admitted. I didn’t know how to reach you. I’ve been waiting for you to call . . .”
“Admitted.” Barb repeated.
“I understand your dad is out of the picture, but you might want to call him.”
“No.” Barb said, mostly to herself. Barb was not going to let that happen. He was not going to find out about this if she could help it. Lenore seemed to understand. She went quiet, anyway.
“We tried to call your auntie,” Lenore finally said.
“Aunt Helen,” Barb said. “Yeah, she’s out of town.” Barb fingered the bus pass in her pocket and stared at the schedule on the fridge. “I’ve got to go to the hospital,” she said, and went to hang up.
“Hold on!” Lenore said.
Barb waited, her knuckles white on the receiver. She still knew nothing. She grabbed the yellow pages and started flipping until she found Alvarado Hospital. Everything was going through her head. What if Mom never came out? What if she died? Would Dad get custody of Charlie? Just two months until her eighteenth birthday. That meant something, didn’t it? Mom was okay. Lenore said she was okay. She was going to be okay.
“Barb,” Lenore actually sounded like she was talking to an adult now. “I’m going to come to your house right now and pick you up.”
Barb surrendered, “Oh, thank you.”
She hung up and dialed the hospital.
La Mesa, California
Lenore had been kind, or at least curious enough to drive her to the hospital and then take her back to the motel to pick up Mom’s car. When she called RJ’s mom, she offered to keep Charlie for the night. Kindness everywhere.
It was just past 11 PM when she pulled into the driveway in Mom’s Escort. The world had changed forever. She imagined Charlie tucked into the bunk bed at RJ’s, blissfully innocent of it all for one more night. They weren’t orphans, not technically. But after seeing Mom, Barb couldn’t shake the feeling that she was clinging to the edge of an abyss. Mom could hardly speak, and when she tried, it made no sense.
It was a stroke. A bad one. How bad, how much she would recover, the doctor didn’t know. They would “wait and see”, but Barb knew how these things went. She had been old enough to remember how her grandpa had to be fed through a tube up his nose. He didn’t last long after that. Who would want to? Hold on, Mom. Things are going to get easier.
Mom was not going to go back to work, of that she was pretty certain, at least not for a long time. Barb would have to call the cafe in the morning. Mom wouldn’t be there for her shift. She would hold off telling them anything for as long as she could. Where would their rent and groceries come from? She had to come up with a plan, one that would never include Dad.
Mr. Allen. She would have that job at Allen Haven Ranch, maybe it could be more than a summer job. Her heart raced at the thought. She was done with high school. She had Mom’s car and it was in pretty good shape. She could take over for Mom at the cafe, too. Charlie was twelve now, he didn’t need a lot of direct supervision, if he could just stay out of trouble. Maybe it was unrealistic, but then, nothing felt exactly real.
Barb was dizzy. The couch pulled at her and she let herself sink into it. Almost instantly, she fell into a dream. Dani came to watch her demonstration. The pretty little girl sat in the stands alone, all smiles and cheers, perfect pale skin and shiny black hair, a hot dog in one hand, a chocolate chip brownie in the other—and not a care in the world.
Bam Bam BAM!
Barb startled awake. Someone was at the door. She peered through the peep hole, but she couldn’t see anything through the smudge. When she cracked the door open, there was a tall blonde man standing there. Was she still dreaming? He looked like he had been chased to her door seeking refuge from vampires in a horror film.
She trembled.“Mr. Cartwright?” She wanted to slam the door closed on this nightmare, but in her disbelief, she opened it wider.
“Have you seen Dani?” He said, pushing past her in a semi-crouch, his eyes searching the corners, as if Barb had stashed the child under a throw pillow or a magazine.
“No, sir. I’m sorry.” Barb stood by the front door in shock as the man lunged from room to room, flipping on lights and peering through doorways, yelling, “Dani! Dani!” His eyes puffy and red.
Mrs. Cartwright was there a moment later. She gently coaxed her husband, murmuring, “She’s not here, Tim. She’s not here. We’ll find her, but she’s not here. Let’s go home, Sweetheart . . .” Over and over again until he slowly moved back outside.
Barb closed and locked the front door. She sat on the couch and stared at her palms for a long time before picking up a pillow from the floor. She hugged it tightly to her chest, and cried.
Next week
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
3 - Between the Raindrops
This one was powerful. I can really feel the family’s pain!