Part 2: 5 - At the Door
Butterflies and an unwelcome surprise
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 2: 4 - Monday • At the Sheriff’s Office
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
5 - At the Door
Barb Ames
June 13, 1988
Dehesa Valley, California
Barb stared at her pink freckled hands on the steering wheel as she waited for the light to change, thinking of her mother’s similar hands, so pale and waxy yesterday in the cold light of the hospital. Her swatch watch read eight twenty-five. The light changed. Mr. Allen had said she should come by on Monday at nine. She was going to be really early for the meeting. Job interview. A butterfly leaped up in her stomach; she took a shallow breath.
“Settle down, Barb,” she told herself, as she wound through the curves on the highway. She turned left onto Blue Haven Lane and drove slowly up the dusty hill. She could have easily left the car at the bottom and run up faster, with all the adrenaline in her system. “You don’t even know if you’re getting the job, yet.” Good lord. She clamped her jaw. I have to keep myself from thinking out loud. They’ll think I’m bonkers.
The possibility of a job at Allen Haven was no longer just an exciting opportunity to spend all day every day there with the horses—and get paid for it. Since Mom’s stroke, it had become part of her plan for survival. Even if she did get this job, she would be calling Mr. Rodriguez at the cafe, and Mr. Hanley at the motel, hoping to get one of Mom’s old jobs, too.
Mom was doing a little better yesterday. At least she was making a few words now, even if those words didn’t seem to match her circumstances. Her left side drooped, and the words were feeble and hard to understand, but Barb was certain she asked for ice cream. It was one of her favorite treats.
Charlie had fidgeted the entire time, getting into everything, like he was turning three and not thirteen, so she sent him to the Thrifty up the hill from the hospital to get ice cream for Mom. She didn’t think that through. It was hot out there. He came back with a healthy smear of chocolate across on his own chin, which was cool with her, but Mom’s cup of mint chip was already half melted. And Mom showed no interest in it. She and Charlie spent an hour watching the ice cream melt into a green pool with dark blotches before Barb tossed it into the trashcan.
She left Charlie to his own devices this morning, his first official day of Summer. He was used to fending for himself. She expected to find him still asleep when she got back, or maybe out in the street with RJ’s ramp and a skateboard. She would fix him something to eat. The boy couldn’t live on Cheetos and Pop-tarts alone. But this afternoon, she would leave him at home while she went back to see Mom. Why drag him around? Let him be a kid while he can.
As she reached the Allen Haven Ranch gate, Barb noticed the big pepper tree there, like she never had before. Maybe it was the sun hitting it just right. Was the ground always so churned up with tire tracks around it? People must have parked there on Demonstration Day. It was funny that she had never really looked at the tree, because sometimes she and the other students would wait there in the shade when one of the riders was lagging behind before setting out on a trail ride. Were the pepper berries always so bright pink? Did the willowy branches always shimmer like that in the sunlight?
Dani was still missing. Barb couldn’t get her head around it. She hoped the girl was okay and they found her soon. That perfect life she had with her perfect parents. Why would she run off? Charlie was always running off. But then, why wouldn’t he? She almost laughed out loud. The only reason Barb never took off is because of Charlie. Somebody had to be there to make sure he ate and went to school. Dani had no excuse, but she hoped nothing bad had actually happened to her. Her poor parents; she couldn’t even imagine.
Barb rolled down the car window as she passed the paddocks. The sweet scent of alfalfa hay and horse filled her nostrils and calmed her mind—the perfect drug. Fancy saw her right away and lifted her face from her hay to give a low nicker. Barb cooed, “I’ll bring you some treats in a little bit, Sweetie.”
The butterflies were going in fast flurries as Barb parked next to Mr. Allen’s fixed-up old car. She wiped her sweaty palms on her faded jeans before reaching up to grasp the painted wood ball at the bottom of the porch stairs. She heard voices, and boots clunking on the wood floor of the house. The front windows were open to the screen as they usually were this time of year, letting in the morning cool. While she was moving her hand toward the doorbell, she heard Mrs. Allen’s voice inside, just feet away, in her kitchen, saying loudly, “Well Veronica, we have nothing to worry about.” And then the phone slammed hard onto the wall.
Wonder what that was about. Barb might have paused a moment, might have walked back to the barn for a while to give them space, but it was too late, her finger was already pressing onto the tiny black button of the doorbell and it gave its clarion, DING DONG, inside the house. She heard muttering inside, but only understood a few words from Mr. Allen, “Don’t let her get to you. . .”
Barb began to sweat. For several moments, she willed herself not to turn and walk away down the stairs. What are you going to do, Barb, doorbell-ditch on your job interview, for this job your really want, and really need? Finally, boots clomped toward the door. She tugged at her t-shirt and tried to look both cool and professional. She had never interviewed for any kind of job before, but getting this one meant everything to her. The butterflies transformed into tiny frogs hopping around under her rib cage. She tried not to imagine Mrs. Allen answering the door still angry from the phone call she had just overheard. Please be Mr. Allen.
Mr. Allen opened the door. He wasn’t smiling. Barb had never seen him so unsmiling. “Mr. Allen?” she said, sounding much more timid to herself than she expected. Her arms suddenly became heavy, but she pressed on. “I’m a little early, I know.”
Barb’s throat tightened. Mr. Allen didn’t seem to register anything. She launched into her speech, anyway, “You told me to stop by this morning. . . To talk about helping with the ranch while you’re away? I’m available. You said you might need help with next year’s program, too?” She steadied herself finally and added, “I can’t imagine anything I’d like to do more.”
Did that come out right? Her throat was tightening again. She could barely breath. Why did she feel like a five-year-old asking a stranger for a quarter?
Mr. Allen’s eyes warmed slightly for a moment. “I’m sorry, Barb. Something has come up. It’s not a good time right now.”
Barb stammered, “You did say nine. I-I could come back.” She looked at her watch. Eight-thirty. She should have waited. She could have spent that time with Fancy, brushing her, calming her own nerves. Everything would have been different.
Mr. Allen looked around behind him, she guessed he was looking at Mrs. Allen. When he turned back to her, he said, “You should go. I’ll give you a call soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
Then he just closed the door. Barb stood there for a long moment. She stared at the closed door, at the bronze doorknob, willing it to turn again. It didn’t. She looked down at the red toes of her boots.
From inside, she heard Mrs. Allen say, “Who was that?”
“Barb,” said Mr. Allen.
“Oh gosh, Barb,” said Mrs. Allen.
As Barb finally moved away, she heard Mr. Allen’s voice trailing inside, “ . . . coming here this morning?”
The colors changed around her. Everything looked different. She was new to seeing herself as a stranger here. She had no substance at all and yet she weighed as much as that boulder on the hill behind the round pen. Did they already hire someone?
Barb walked through the barn. She had promised Fancy a treat. The Allens wouldn’t mind, at least not the Allens she thought she knew. She went to the treat bin and filled her t-shirt as a basket, no longer needing to stay clean. She stopped at each stall’s eager nose, scratching necks and itchy spots while they happily munched. It hit her that she might not ever see any of them again, and the heaviness turned to a painful lump that traveled up her throat and threatened to leak from her eyes.
She squinted at the brightness passing from the shadow of the barn into the sunlight. It was going to be another hot day. A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly with a deep shaky breath. None of that, Barb. She fished the keys out of her pocket and lowered herself into Mom’s car.
Turning the key in the ignition, Barb tried to shift her focus. Charlie. There were eggs in the fridge. She would make him some pancakes before she went back to the hospital. Then she would call Mr. Rodriguez at the cafe. Her focus gradually returned and became steady as she made her way slowly down the dirt road.
As she stopped at the highway, a Sheriff’s car slowed to turn behind her onto Blue Haven Lane. Barb watched it drive up the dirt road in her rearview mirror. They must still be looking for Dani. Would she have gone to Allen Haven Ranch? Could she be there, right now? Dani knew the address. Maybe she was hiding there. It was not so cold at night. She could have curled up in a stall and slept. Barb shook her head. That was crazy. She would have had to come out at some point; someone would have seen her.
Next
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
6 - Rattling Place
Poor Barb! I felt the sting she did. I hope a door opens soon!