Wire Mesh Mothers

45

The old Chevy Nova was rusted along the sides, across the roof, and on the driver’s side floor, so much that the rubber floor mat sagged in several spots and Kate knew if she pulled it up, she’d be able to see spots of the road beneath them. It was some joke of the gods that it had an engine and transmission decent enough to keep the machine moving forward. They were in Mississippi, driving west on Route 575 near the southern border.

The girl had not died last night, curse it all. Another joke of the gods. She was alive and kicking and more determined than ever to make Texas. She’d left Kate and Mistie in the motel room in the very early morning and had returned with this vehicle. She didn’t say where she’d found it, but Kate guessed some used car lot, from the “inner circle of value” near the back where most shoppers wouldn’t bother to look. She’d hot-wired it and brought it back to Mobile South Motor Inn as the sun was coming up. She’d instructed Mistie and Kate to take whatever they could from the place, especially the pillows because they were soft, and all the towels from the bathroom. She ordered Mistie in the back seat, Kate in the driver’s seat, and they were good to go.

The girl hadn’t died. But Mistie was sick.

Kate had noticed it in the rearview. Mistie’s skin was pale, her lips were cracking. She no longer repeated her little poems to herself. She was no longer reaching down with bound hands to rub herself between her legs.

The radio in the Nova didn’t work. Neither did the speedometer. Kate drove at what she thought was 55, knowing that if she tried to speed to catch a police officer’s attention, the teenager would do her best to take them all down before they were caught.

If she’d only died. But there’s still time before she gets to her friends in Texas. I’ll keep my eyes open, you betcha. I’ll watch for every opportunity.

Kate licked her bottom lip, savoring the image of the girl dead on the side of the road.

Mississippi in December was worse than Alabama in December. Kate had the window rolled down to let some of the sticky air in. Kate thought air might help Mistie feel better; what had she eaten yesterday that might have not agreed with her? Kate couldn’t remember. When she called back to Mistie to see how she was doing, the girl in the passenger’s seat stopped cleaning her fingernails with her knife and said, “Want a third stripe on your stomach? Hey, enough and we’ll have, like, an American flag. That’s thirteen, right? We can salute you.”

Kate didn’t answer and the girl didn’t seem concerned that she didn’t. The wounds on her abdomen were already closing, and it was amazing how little she thought of the discomfort when she had other things to occupy her mind. They drove another twelve miles, cutting through swampy grasslands and small farms dotted with Brahma cattle and white egrets. Mistie slumped in the back, her head rolling to and fro as if watching a tennis match.

“Truth or dare?” Kate asked. She put her left hand out into the wind. She had gotten permission from the girl to tear off the sleeves of her sweatshirt, and her arms were grateful for the small favor. Her pits smelled, but no longer did Kate feel chagrin. It was almost a good thing, a feral thing.

“Drop it you know what’s good for you.”

“Something to pass the time.” She liked the sound of her voice; it was gritty, unfamiliar. “I’m bored, I don’t know about you.”

“You’re bored? You’re cut and beat, and you’re bored?” The girl eyed Kate with lowered lids, then, “Yeah. Why not. Truth.”

“Who are the people you’re going to see in Texas?”

“Why you want to know?”

Kate shrugged. She didn’t really want to know, but getting the girl to relax even a little would help when she had the chance to bash her in the brains with the loose steering wheel once she was able to work it free. “Small talk.”

The girl licked sweat from her top lip and frowned out the window. She said, “Not friends. I’m going to see my father. He’s a ranch owner, he owns almost half of Texas. He’s a bad ass. He sells cattle. He’s a drug baron, too, like those guys in Mexico and has more money than God. He kills anybody who gets in his way. He wrote for me to come visit him, so I figured after the gasoline guy got shot, it was as good a time as any.”

“How about that,” said Kate.

The girl’s head whipped about. “You don’t believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I believe you? You seem like the daughter of a drug baron to me.”

“Yeah? You fucking with me?” The girl’s nostrils flared, then calmed. “Truth or dare,” she said.

“Truth,” said Kate.

“Why you have that kid in the back of your car? You don’t have a daughter so it wasn’t clothes. And trust me, I got a great dare if you lie this time.”

Kate glanced down at the speedometer, forgetting it was broken. The needle rode zero. Why was Mistie in my car? Yes, Alice and Bill. Ontario. I was taking her to them. She sexually abused and I was doing a good thing.

“I wanted to give her a nice, warm meal,” said Kate. “I was taking her home so she could have dinner with my husband and myself.”

“Your son? Forget about him? Or you do keep him locked up?”

“He doesn’t live at home.”

“Why not?”

“He’s off at school. Philadelphia.”

“Rich ass school, huh? Southampton schools ain’t good enough for a McDolen?”

“Possibly.”

The girl shook her head slowly, accusingly. “Why’d you say that thing about the clothes last time I asked?”

“I was nervous. You had a gun, remember.”

“I don’t believe you anything you’ve told me ‘bout Baby Doll. They’re all lies.”

“Believe what you want. It’s true.”

“It’s not true. Nothing you told me’s true. So I got a dare for you.”

Yeah, dare me, bitch. Not for much longer. Give it to me, I don’t care. I’m biding my time.

“Next town, next phone booth, you’re calling your husband and tellin’ him what you did.”

This wasn’t what Kate expected. “What did I do?”

“Got Baby Doll, were skippin’ out with her, taking her somewhere to be in a kiddie porn ring. They got those in Richmond, you know. And Washington, DC. Teachers got lots of chances to get kids for kiddie porn rings. Lots of money in it. Teachers do it, and clowns. And priests.”

“I would never….”

“Yeah, you would and you will call,” said the girl. “I’m gonna be real close, too, right by the phone. I wanna hear what he’s got to say about all this. Just wish I could see his face.”

Kate clutched the wobbly steering wheel and tried to pray it off the column. It just kept shaking but didn’t come off. “I won’t.”

“You’ll do the dare I tell you to do.”

Okay, Kate, Hold on. She won’t pick a high-traffic spot. And a phone cord is as good a garrote as a long sock. Countdown to murder. Wasn’t there a movie named that somewhere on AMC?

“Sure,” said Kate. “I’ll take the dare. What the hell.”

“Your mouth gettin’ trashy, teacher.”

“How about that,” said Kate. “Wonders never cease.”