Wire Mesh Mothers

56

This truck wasn’t half as bad as the Nova had been. It was a manual transmission, though, so Tony had tied Kate’s left hand to the steering wheel and the right hand to the gearshift with leftovers from Kate’s Christian Camp director jeans. Kate’s calf throbbed mercilessly when she had to press the clutch, but Tony had allowed her to re-bandage it, and though excruciating with certain moves, she thought it would probably heal. But some alcohol would assure that would happen.

Tony had brought clothes from a dryer in a shed outside one of the doublewides. Overalls for Kate, and a white tank top with stained underarms. Tony had claimed a man’s pair of camouflage shorts and black tee shirt with “Napa” emblazoned on the front. For Mistie there was a flower-printed polyester shift, a little short but not too snug around the torso. Tony had also brought an extra shirt so Kate could check and wrap the wound in the back of her leg. But Kate knew better than to thank her. Tony had the drive in her eyes again, the set of brow she’d had back in South Carolina. All she could talk about was Burton and Lamesa and how much money her father had.

East Texas. One-light towns of Fords Corner and Melrose. Tony complained that this didn’t look like Texas, it looked like fucking Louisiana and fucking Mississippi and fucking Alabama. “Texas is a big state,” Kate reminded her. “Give it time. There were cattle ranges farther west.”

Mistie was between Kate and Tony. Both legs were draped over beside Tony’s because Kate refused to let the girl straddle the shift. She was still rather lethargic, but Kate sensed she was coming around, that she’d suffered from some 24-hour bug that children often got to the terror of their parents and the blessed assurances of their pediatricians. But something to help the fever was still in order. And Kate was ready to offer her right eye for something to bring down the aching in her calf. And a real night’s sleep.

Tony had the knife out and was playing flip-the-blade by the passenger window. Kate wondered if it might blow out in a gust of Texas wind. But it didn’t.

They rolled on another twenty minutes, Kate’s leg and stomach growling. They’d eaten nothing since yesterday morning. And they had not one cent with which to buy food. Kate had turned on the radio to get her mind off the clammy filth of her body and the tedious drive, but Tony hadn’t liked her choice of music and made her turn it off.

Traffic picked up on the two-lane, and then the road widened to four lanes. Houses were closer together here, and there were apartment complexes and strip malls. Streetlights were wound with all-weather holly and big red bows. Decorations in these lawns were more tasteful than those seen in the country. No bobbing head Josephs or Granny Fannies in poinsettia britches. A city limits sign reading “Nacogdoches” rushed by on the right. A city this size would have drug stores. If Kate could tidy up her hair and clean up her face, she might make a relatively benign shoplifter.

“Tony,” she said. “I want a dare.”

Tony stopped flipping the knife. “That ain’t how it works. I gotta give truth or dare.”

“Then let me tell you what to dare me.”

Tony rubbed her chin and scratched her head. “What?”

“Dare me to go into a Rite Aid or CVS and get some things we need.”

“What the hell we need? Got lots of gas in the tank. Don’t seem to be burning any oil.”

“Aren’t you hungry? I could slip a few things into my pocket, see how big overall pockets are? And I want to get something for Mistie’s temperature. And for my leg. And for your hair.”

“My hair?”

“You have lice, Tony. Haven’t you felt them?”

Tony smacked at her head, then pulled the rearview mirror around and stared agape at her reflection. “No, I don’t! I ain’t got the cooties.”

“Whatever you call them, I’ve seen them crawling behind your ears. There’s shampoo for that, you know….”

“Goddamn Darlene!”

“Who’s Darlene?”

“You want my whole life history? Just find a fucking store and get the damn shampoo!”

The first store that looked like it didn’t have high-tech anti-theft doors was Carlton’s Food and Drug, an establishment on a smaller side road in town that seemed to have been built some time back in the ‘forties. The bricks were sand-colored, the edges of the building rounded. Side windows were made of a mosaic of glass bricks. There were grocery carts crammed together outside the front, likely borrowed from some neighboring grocery store.

“This is good,” said Kate. Tony nodded, and Kate pulled into the drive. A few other customer cars were squatting there in the lot. One was occupied by a girl of about five and a yapping Pomeranian.

Kate put the truck in park. It idled smoothly. The owner of this would be putting out a bulletin on it, for certain.

Tony flicked the knife and held it toward Mistie. “Don’t forget who’s out here.”

“I won’t,” said Kate.

“You tell on us in there, if anybody even looks out here like they think something’s going on, I’ll bring us all down.”

“I’m not going to do that, Tony.”

“It’s weird when you say my name. Teachers call me Angela.”

“You want me to call you that?”

“Hell, no. Tony.”

“Okay, then, Tony.”

“You got ten minutes, exactly.”

“Ten minutes,” said Kate. She didn’t point out that there wasn’t a clock in the truck.

It was difficult to walk without a limp, but she tightened her jaws and did the best she could. She’d been able to smile through parent conferences, and some were almost as painful as a bullet to the leg. That’s a good one, she thought. Ought to call Deidra and tell her about my latest adventure. A wave a fatigue swept through her body, and she held onto the door’s hand, regaining herself, before pushing all the way inside.

The store was alive with an overly warm heat blasting its breath from a ceiling vent and a Zamfir Christmas tape playing on the intercom. A man with a gray beard stood at a candy display, filling a rack up with bags of Christmas-colored Hersheyets and red and green foil-wrapped Kisses. At the front counter, a middle-aged woman was straightening a stack of coupons by the register. The woman glanced up and smiled, “Merry Christmas!”

Kate nodded. “And to you.”

Slowly, she moved up the first aisle, glancing back at the bowed ceiling mirror at the front corner near the door. Facing away from the mirror, she scooped several packs of Lance crackers into the front pocket of her overalls. Then she meandered to the health and beauty aisle. It felt as though her leg was beginning to seep. She hoped not. She opened her pocket to flick in a tube of Suave powder fresh deodorant, a small box of children’s chewable Tylenol, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. There was a sharp pain in her calf, and she stopped, caught her breath, and moved on.

As nonchalantly as she could, she rounded the corner and walked up through the hair products. Rid, for lice. That was what the school kept on hand for outbreaks. She didn’t see any. She looked back up the aisle from where she came. She thought it had a stop sign on it, but wasn’t certain. She looked again. No Rid. Nothing for Tony’s cooties.

“Can I help you find something?” called the woman from the front counter.

“Oh, no,” said Kate. Her voice was surprisingly pleasant and cheerful. “Actually, I’m just taking a break from driving. I needed to stretch my legs a bit. I hope you don’t mind if I just look around?”

“No, honey, that’s fine,” said the woman. “Where you driving to?”

“El Paso,” said Kate smoothly. “I’m a teacher from North Carolina. Heading over to see my sister.”

“Teacher, huh?” said the woman. “Off for the holidays already? Our kids got another week before school lets out.”

There was a small hanging display beside the shampoos, a plastic, toothed rack with folded American Traveler maps tucked in. United States. Southern United States. Texas. Kate tugged a Texas out of its slot, folded it an extra time and slipped it in the overall pocket. “Oh, well, I teach in a private school. A Christian academy. Our schedule is somewhat different from the schedules of the public schools in our area.”

The card and wrapping paper section was past the hair care. Kate stopped in front of a standing display and idly spun the rack about, glancing at the colorful images and flowing script. There was a narrow mirror dividing each section of the rack and it winked at Kate as it revolved by her, over and over. She caught the rack and held it still to see herself in the sliver of silvered glass.

My God, she thought. She stared at the reflection. The thin woman with the straight auburn hair. The face without makeup, the baggy overalls and simple undershirt. Eyes, a bit dark and set. Fingernails rough and unpolished.

There’s Alice. Kate ran her hand over her cheeks, over her neck and down the length of one leg. Donald wouldn’t recognize me. I look like Alice.

She stared. She knew. She realized what she had done had been for herself at first. She had rescued Mistie to rescue herself. To get away from the tedium and the headaches and loneliness. To take Mistie and drop her off at a commune for other castoffs and be done with it.

But not now, she thought. The mouth in the mirror had no lipstick, no lip liner, and the small wrinkles at the corners were clearly visible. I am not going to take Mistie to Canada. Mexico is closer. I’ll care for her. I’ll mother her. Me.

I’ll be the Alice in me.

Yes.

Then something wet slid down the back of her leg to her shoe. There was blood on the floor. Damn, she thought. She rubbed the bottom of the shoe through the little drops on the floor, smudging them out of focus. She limped to the front door.

“Safe trip!” called the woman.

“God bless,” said Kate.

The truck was empty, though the engine was still humming. The car with the girl and the dog were gone; the patron had probably been next door at the dry cleaners. Kate glanced around, more blood drips trickling down to her shoe; the wound was hot and aching.

She saw Mistie and Tony at the outdoor phone by the sidewalk. Tony waved Kate over, the receiver in her hand, the knife in the other. Mistie was sitting cross-legged on the concrete slab under the phone box. The little yellow shift was bunched up, showing no panties. Kate stood between Mistie and the street, blocking her from the view of passers-by.

“Called my friend Leroy,” said Tony. Her voice was stony. Not a good sign. “One eight-hundred collect. It works, you know, even though those commercials are pussy.”

“That’s good, him getting caught,” said Kate. “Right?”

“Hot Heads made the news.”

“What are hot heads?”

“Whitey’s got arrested last night.”

“Whitey?”

Tony cleared her throat and spit on the ground. “One that killed the gasoline man with my gun. He’s on TV. They say he’s get charged as an adult. He hasn’t confessed but Leroy says it’s just time.”

Kate knelt beside Mistie and rubbed her head. She reached in her pocket for the box of Tylenol, ripped it open, and took out three pink tablets. “Mistie, can you chew these?” Mistie nodded and put the tablets in her mouth, held them there. “Chew, hon.” Mistie chewed.

“Is that what you wanted?” asked Kate, looking up at Tony. “You wanted him to get caught?”

Tony banged the receiver on the steel side of the phone box. Her toe of her right boot patted the gravel rapidly. “Yeah. No, not exactly. Asshole!”

“Why?”

“We was supposed to be talked about, wondered about. We was supposed to be worried about, all over the county. We was supposed to be the gang everybody was scared of but nobody knew our names. Like the big gangs in the big places, ones that shoot up stuff and people and write ‘don’t fuck with us’ on walls but nobody knows exactly who did the shoot-ups ‘cause they’re quick, man, they’re smart and they don’t get caught. But Whitey shot that bastard and now he’s arrested. He’s gonna talk you can bet. Bark like a dog. All the Hot Heads going down, except me, ‘cause I’m here in fucking Texas.”

Kate stood and put her hand on Tony’s arm. Tony jerked away. “Why you touching me?” she demanded. “Don’t fucking ever do that!”

“He’s arrested. Okay. He killed the gasoline man, he should be arrested. Don’t you think?”

Tony scratched at the back of her ear. “He’ll get the needle over in Jarratt if they try him as an adult, you know. It could have been me. I could have shot him, and got arrested. I could have been the first girl on death row in Virginia. Know that? People don’t think girls got it in them, but fuck, they do.”

Kate spoke slowly. “Is that what you want, Tony? I don’t get it. What is it you want out of all this?”

Tony slammed the receiver into the steel box and then down onto the cradle. She put her mouth on her arm and bit down. Kate could hear the air drawing through her teeth.

“Don’t, Tony.”

Tony let go and smiled, her incisors streaked in blood. Her arm bore the angry and jagged imprint of the teeth, outlined in bright red. Already the skin was rising in defense of itself, puffing up against the assault. Tony held the arm out to Kate. “Tastes good! Better than mouse shit I bet! Wanna try? Now if I go down fighting, they’ll be able to ID me from my dental records! Ha!”

“Tony, what do you want?”

“I want a dare from you.”

Kate shook her head. “Let’s get in the truck and go on. I’ve got a map. We can find Lamesa. It might not be much farther.”

“Got a dare for you,” said Tony.

“No more dares.”

“A dare. I know too much about your fucking life as it is for any more damned truths. So here’s the dare. Call your husband. And he better be at the office.”

Kate felt a click in the back of her throat. “Tony, let’s leave him out of this. You know we aren’t into pedophilia rings. You know that was way off base.”

The knife appeared, and waggered in the air like a steel mosquito ready for the bite. “Call him. Want me to get him on the line for you? I’ll say I’m you. ‘Collect call from Mrs. Kate McDolen, rich bitch moron who licks mouse shit!’”

“I will go with you to Lamesa. You don’t need to threaten me anymore. I’ll drive you to your dad’s ranch. But just let Mistie and me alone. Let us go on our way when it’s done. There is no reason to call Donald.”

“Ronald McDonald!” said Tony. “Call him, bitch, or Mistie’s gonna sport a new tattoo, a nice set of teeth marks like mine here, only deeper.” She yanked Mistie back by the arm, and held the girl beside her, knife running through the girl’s hair. “How deep ‘til you hit bone and come out the other side? My sister Darlene was digging to China. Think she’s there yet?”

Kate picked up the phone. Her head itched furiously. She probably had Tony’s head lice. One eight-hundred collect. She pressed the numbers, waited for instructions, spoke her name. On the back of her left leg, the tickling of blood in a warm pattern down through the stubble of hair.

Lisa answered the phone.

“Lisa, it’s Kate.”

“Collect again? Honey, you are having phone trouble!” A small and distant chuckle. Kate couldn’t tell if Lisa was really trying to be funny or if she sensed something was off-balance. “How are you?”

“Okay. Lisa, is Donald in?”

“Sure is, Kate. Just hang on one dilly-dally moment, okay?”

Kate couldn’t say okay. God, but her leg was throbbing now, and both were shaking. I don’t want to talk to Donald. Maybe he’s in the conference room, maybe he’s out in the hall. Please, let his voice mail pick up.

“Hello, Donald McDolen speaking.”

“Donald….”

“Kate! Where are you? I found your note. God knows I’ve respected your request to let you be awhile, but I thought you’d at least call, to at least touch base, for Christ’s sake. Are you all right?”

Kate looked at Tony, who whispered, “Tell him you kidnapped Mistie. Tell him you’re in Texas with one of the Hot Heads, running from the law.”

“Kate? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, Donald.” I’m not far from Mexico, no matter what I tell him, Tony doesn’t know I’m going to Mexico. “Here, in Texas.”

“Texas? You’re kidding, right? What in the world did you think you’d find in Texas?”

“Tell him the town,” said Tony.

“Nacogdoches, Texas,” said Kate.

“Whatever you say. Is the air good there? All that, what, nice dry heat to clear you head? Is there a counselor there to work on…your issue?”

Fury flared up the back of Kate’s neck. Son of a bitch! My issue? Am I getting help?

“No.”

“I covered you, Kate,” said Donald. She could see him as he told her his this, one arm locked over his chest, the elbow of the other resting on top of the balled fist, sitting on the edge of his desk. The gray hair, neatly cut and neatly moussed, now just a little frizzy around the edge with anger. “I called Stuart Gordonson and asked him to let the school know you’d be out a short while. Of course, you didn’t say how long, so I felt a bit the fool on that count.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re on your way home now, am I right? I can tell Gordon you’ll be this week, yes? By, say, Wednesday at the latest? I can tell Gordon that?”

“Tell him what you did,” said Tony. She picked at a front tooth with her knife, wiped the blade on the side of her camouflage shorts, then pointed it back at Mistie. “C’mon, now, you’re talking on his dime.”

“I…I have a girl with me.”

A pause back across the many miles in Virginia. “A girl. What do you mean?”

He’s thinking I’ve got a lover, thought Kate, some kind of Texas cowgirl lover. The thought was nearly enough to bring on a dry laugh. Nearly. “A girl from my school. A second grader.”

“Her name,” whispered Tony.

“What’s her name?” asked Donald.

Mexico, a few hours, tops. We’ll be okay, we’ll make it. “Mistie Henderson,” said Kate.

“Henderson,” said Donald. “There was something in the local paper about a Henderson girl not showing up at her trailer park. They weren’t sure if she’s an abductee or a runaway. The residents thought she was a runaway. You…have her?”

“I do, Donald. Let me explain….”

Then Tony pinched her nose and wailed, “Help! I’m Mistie! She grabbed me and threw me in her white car! Help me…!” Then Tony snatched the receiver; slammed it down, and hopped back with a little skip-jump. She laughed loud and long, rocking back like a hyena in a Disney cartoon.

“What did you do that for?” cried Kate. “That’s not how it happened!”

“It don’t matter how it happened,” laughed Tony. “It happened. You’re a kidnapper, you said so yourself! And now your husband knows it, too!”

“He won’t believe it. Not the part about throwing her in the car. He’ll think I’m the one kidnapped. He’ll think I was forced to make the call. Do you know how fake you sounded?”

“But he’ll wonder, he’ll doubt! You left him in the first place, didn’t you, and wrote a note to tell him go were going? I heard that! So he’s gonna know something’s screwed up.”

“He won’t believe what you said.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But the police believed it.”

Kate paused, gaped, wiped sweat from her eyes. Her heart stopped one beat, then another, then picked up again. “The police…believed it?

“After I talked to Leroy, I called the police. Right here in whatever the hell this town is called, I forgot. It was easy, got an operator, didn’t even need the one-eight hundred collect. Asked for the city police department. Said my name was Tony and I was with a kid and woman from Pippins, Virginia. Said I’d robbed an Exxon back home and you’d stole a little kid named Mistie. Said they could check up there and know I was right. They wanted to know why I called to confess, and I said what’s the fun of nobody knowing? And I hung up real quick.”

“Tony, we’re this close to Lamesa! You could have gotten with your dad!”

“I still will, but its better this way!”

“You’ve lost your mind!”

“You think I ever really had it, bitch?”

Kate looked over her shoulder at the road. How long until they have photos of the missing Mistie from Pippins? How long until they check out the story on the Exxon robbery? “You didn’t give them my name?”

“Sure.”

This will be FBI. This will be federal. God. God.

“The truck we’re driving?”

“I said it was a tan truck. I’m not stupid enough to tell them everything like thelicense plate or anything, shit, they gotta do some of the work.” Tony grinned, wiggled her eyebrows. “Guess we should get going. How far’s Lamesa?”

God, we have to hurry!

Tony put out her hand as she slammed the passenger’s door behind her and turned on her butt to Kate at the wheel. “And I hope you got something good to eat in that store back there.”