“It’s my only chance of going.” I glance at my watch. “We’re not going to have much time. I have to be home by eleven on weekends, and it’s nine now. By the time you get ready and we drive out there, we’ll have to leave again.”
“Eleven? Your Mom is strict.” Suzanna frowns. “Things don’t really even get going until after eleven. But don’t worry.” She thinks for a few seconds then smiles. “I have a plan.”
It’s easier than I thought to sneak the sack of new clothes into my bedroom.
“Erin? Is that you, Sugar?” my grandmother calls from the den when the front door slams.
“Hi, Nana. Be right there.” I stuff the sack under my bed.
Even before I get to the den, I hear music playing. The kind with a lot of brass and piano, with some guy’s silky voice weaving through it. I’m sort of weirded out when I find Nana on the floor with Maxwell tucked up beside her. Leaning against the sofa, she scratches his belly, her eyes closed, her glasses on the coffee table beside her. Socks cover her feet, and her toes tap the air to the beat of the song. I don’t know why seeing someone her age sprawled out on the floor with her shoes off seems strange, but it does.
For a minute, I just stand and stare at her, afraid to break the mood. It’s like her mind is someplace besides this room, in a different time, a happy one if the smile on her face is any clue. It may sound stupid, but I almost feel like I’m spying on something private, something I shouldn’t disturb. Deciding I should just tiptoe away, I start to turn.
Nana’s eyes flutter open. She squints. “Oh, Erin.” Lifting her hand from Maxwell’s belly, she places it on the sofa. “Come sit and talk with me.”
Maxwell raises his head and whimpers until she touches him again. I understand. I remember the comfort of being cozied up to her. When I was little, we’d sit together in the rocker and she’d read to me. She smelled soapy clean.
Suzanna waits outside for me, three houses down the block. The excitement she offers tugs me one way at the same time Nana’s warmth pulls me the other. I hesitate then cross the room, settling on the sofa beside where she sits on the floor. “I thought you might be asleep.”
“No, just resting my eyes.” She sits up straight, reaches for her glasses then slides them up the bridge of her nose. “How was your evening? Did you have a nice time with your friend?”
“We just talked and tried on clothes.”
“Your mother said you rented a movie.”
“I did, but we didn’t watch it yet. Maybe tomorrow.” I glance toward the door to the kitchen. The lights are off. “Where’s Mom?”
“She turned in early to read.” Nana covers her mouth and yawns. “I think I’ll take a quick soak in the tub then do the same. I’m having some trouble settling down after all the day’s excitement.” She reaches up to me. “Would you give me a lift?”
I stand and face her. Nana’s hands are dry and powder soft. As I pull her to her feet, I try to figure out what excitement she’s talking about. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“Happen?” Nana’s brows pull together. “Your mother and I just ate pie and watched television. I couldn’t have stood much more after all the unpacking and putting away. And then there was the trip to the grocery store. And the cooking.” She pats my arm. “Mind you, I’m not complaining. It’s a joy to be busy with my family.”
I hug her, realizing the excitement she talked about was just the move. Shame tightens my throat. This day meant a lot to Nana. I guess I should’ve known that, but until now, I didn’t. I probably should’ve stuck around instead of going to the mall with Suzanna.
Ending the hug, I stand back and look at her. “I think I’ll go to bed, too. I’m sort of tired.” I almost choke on the lie. What started out smooth and clear is all twisted and cloudy now. I didn’t expect my escape route would have ruts, guilty feelings to dodge along the way.
“I love you. Sleep tight,” Nana says. “Stay warm.”
“Love you, too.” Heat creeps up the back of my neck. My heart beats too fast. “I’ll put Maxwell out.”
Max trots toward the front door, his bottom twisting in the prissy way that always used to earn him a rude comment from Dad. “Oh, no you don’t.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the backyard and lead him that way. Once outside, he squats to pee, then lifts his head and sniffs the air, as if he smells freedom beyond the fence and wants to explore. I watch him a minute, thinking of Suzanna waiting out front, of the night ahead. Then I go back inside.
I decide I better cover all my bases. A light shines under Mom’s bedroom door so I knock and tell her I’m home. Usually, she tells me to come in and we talk for a while. By some miracle, this time she doesn’t. She sounds sort of funny, like she’s startled or something. We speak through her closed door for a few seconds then say good-night.
Twenty minutes later, after changing clothes and fixing my hair and makeup, I’m halfway out my bedroom window when the buckle of one spiked-heel boot catches on the inside latch. I have my free foot on the ground, the snared one raised high above the sill. I’m leaning forward, mooning the street. The temperature outside has dropped from comfortable to chilly. A breeze lifts the pleated hem of my miniskirt and scatters goose bumps across my butt. This is more than a rut, this is a major pothole.
Leave it to Suz and her great ideas.
I hear an engine and look over my shoulder. Her Honda Civic passes slowly by with the headlights turned off. She’s supposed to wait down the street, but since I’m ten minutes late, I guess she got worried.
Before going through the window, I tossed my purse out. It’s on the ground beside my foot. My cell phone’s inside of it, ringing nonstop. It’s a quiet muffled trill, but I panic anyway, sure Mom or Nana will hear it. My breath comes fast; I’m so scared I’m dizzy.
The second the phone goes quiet, I hear Nana humming on the other side of my door. I quit struggling with the boot buckle and stand still in spite of my cramped thigh. Her bedroom is next to mine; she probably finished her bath and she’s headed there.
I’m shivering from coldness and fear when I finally hear Nana’s bedroom door close. The humming stops. I twist my foot from side to side to work on the buckle again.
The bushes alongside the window rustle. I gasp, but see it’s just Suzanna.
“Jeez!” I hiss. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry,” she whispers. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing to be a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m stuck.”
“Here.” Suzanna squeezes in beside me. “Let me see.” She leans in through the open window, reaches up, wiggles the latch with one hand while wiggling my boot buckle with the other. In no time, I’m free.
“I knew these boots would cause trouble,” I mumble, pulling my leg from the sill, stumbling as I put my foot on the ground. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“You are.”
I
