Barbara L. Clanton - Going, Going, Gone - Suzie's Story Read online

  Susie examined the crying baby from head to toe. No cuts, no blood. Oh wait, a bump on her forehead was starting to swell. The lamp must have hit her there.

  "C'mon, little one. Let's go get some ice on that."

  Susie hoped to get the baby into the kitchen and the ice applied before Mrs. Johnson actually got in the door. No such luck. She was walking by the front door just as it opened.

  "What happened?" Mrs. Johnson closed the door behind her. Before Susie could answer, Mrs. Johnson dropped her purse and work bag and held her arms out for Emma. Susie handed her over. Mrs. Johnson rocked the crying baby and shush-shushed her.

  Susie stood there feeling like a school kid before the principal. "She's not cut, but somehow the lamp in your bedroom fell on her." She cringed waiting for the rebuke that was sure to follow. There wasn't a week that went by that Susie didn't get reprimanded for one thing or another. When one didn't come, Susie mumbled, "I'll get some ice."

  She moved as quickly as she could without breaking into an out and out run. She had just opened the drawer for a plastic bag when Mrs. Johnson called, "Just bring me an ice pop."

  "Okay," Susie called back. She flung open the freezer door and mumbled, "Ice pop. Ice pop," as she searched under the frozen vegetables. When she finally found them, she blew out a nervous breath. She truly hoped Emma was okay. She had only been on the phone for a couple of minutes. With a groan, she pulled out two pops--one for Bethany, too. As an afterthought, she grabbed a clean dish towel remembering what Coach Gellar told them about not putting ice bags directly on skin. Susie hoped that would get her extra brownie points from Mrs. Johnson, but she seriously doubted it.

  By the time Susie got back to the living room, baby Emma had quieted down and lay in her mother's arms tearfully sucking her thumb. Susie handed the ice pop and towel to Mrs. Johnson and tossed the second pop to Bethany who stood leaning against the wall near the back door.

  "Here," Susie reached down for the mound of laundry on the coffee table, "let me get these clothes folded and put away."

  "Just leave them."

  "Are you sure? I can--"

  "I'm sure."

  "Well, let me at least clean up the broken lamp."

  "Leave it."

  Susie felt helpless at that moment, an unusual feeling for her. She nodded her head toward baby Emma now sleeping in her mother's arms. "How is she?"

  "Oh, she's okay." Mrs. Johnson's voice softened. "Good thing I'm a nurse, right?"

  "Right." Susie wanted to sigh in relief, but kept her nerves in check. She stood there as an awkward silence fell around them. "Uh, well, I guess I'll get going now. The lasagna I made is in the oven on low."

  Mrs. Johnson nodded once without looking up. She lifted the ice pop from the baby's head to examine the bump. "You're okay, Pumpkin." She rocked the sleeping baby. Bethany came over and sat on the couch next to her mother, obviously concerned about her little sister.

  Susie reached for her car keys on the coffee table and slid them into her pocket. "See you tomorrow, Bethany." Bethany didn't acknowledge her, not even with her usual grunt.

  Susie let herself out and hadn't gotten the front door closed when Bethany blurted to her mother, "Susie was on the phone when it happened. She's in love. With a girl!"

  Susie groaned and pressed the front door firmly shut behind her. Could her day get any worse? She shuffled to her car, grateful when the engine started on the first twist of the key. According to her father, the starter needed replacing. Maybe she'd talk to him about getting it fixed when she got home, but she was afraid he might make her pay the entire bill herself. She'd turn eighteen in December, the magic age in the Torres household when all of her car expenses, including insurance, would become her responsibility.

  She pulled the Toyota onto the street and meandered the back roads toward C.R. 62 which would take her to Christy's house. She'd only be able to spend about an hour there since her mother wanted her back home for Sunday dinner.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket. The dinner rush had probably already hit D'Amico's, so Marlee wouldn't be able to talk. Susie hit the text button instead, and typed, "Crash & Cries suk!" She wanted to continue their conversation about Bree, but that would be hard to do in a text. She looked up at the road. There weren't any cars on the two-lane highway, so she looked back down at her phone and typed, "baby Emma's ok. My nerves fried. Can't wait 2 c u--"

  A car horn blared. Susie shot to attention. She was on the wrong side of the road. She jerked the steering wheel to the right, but overcompensated and fishtailed the back end into the other lane. Somehow the other car swerved around her, and they didn't hit. Despite the fact that her heart was in her throat, she got her car headed in the right direction.

  With her heart pounding, she looked in the rear-view mirror. The driver of the other car flipped her the bird. Normally that would have sent her blood boiling, but she couldn't react to it. She could only sigh in relief. An agricultural feed and supply place came up on the right, so she pulled into the lot to catch her breath. She rested her head on the steering wheel. Once her jangled nerves were somewhat settled, she sat up and laughed when she noticed that she still held her cell phone in a death grip.

  "That's it," she said to the universe. "No more texting in the car." She knew the universe doubted her sincerity, so she repeated her conviction. "I mean it. No more texting and driving. I promise."

  She finished the incomplete text to Marlee on the screen, "Can't wait 2 c u Tues. Luv u," and hit the send button. She smiled. Marlee would have a text waiting for her when her shift ended later that night. Susie carefully laid the phone on the passenger seat, took a deep breath, and headed back out onto the two-lane road. She laughed because she'd actually come to a complete stop and signaled out of the parking lot. She usually didn't have time for that sort of thing.

  After only two more minutes on the road, Susie's heart leaped again when her phone rang. She remembered her recent vow, but since the vow hadn't included sneaking a peek to see who was calling, she picked it up. If it was Marlee, she'd pull over and answer it. No such luck. It was her mother. She toyed with the idea of letting it go to voicemail, but that was never a good idea when Isabella Maria de Fatima Torres called.

  Susie pulled the car over on the shoulder, well off the road. She smirked up at the universe. See? She could keep a promise. She flipped open her phone, "¿Aló, Mami?"

  "What happened at Mrs. Johnson's?"

  Susie flopped her head back against the headrest. Yeah, the day had just gotten much worse.

  Chapter Six

  Going, Going, Gone

  SUSIE HELD THE cell phone away from her ear. Her mother finished her tirade about the baby Emma incident and hung up before Susie could seriously defend herself. She stared at the silent phone wondering how much trouble she'd be in when she got home. She flipped her phone shut as gently as she could as if not wanting to rile her mother any further. What she really wanted to do was hurl the phone into the ditch alongside C.R. 62 where she sat in her car. She closed her eyes for a minute knowing she would have to defend herself again when she got home, but she had one thing she needed to do first.

  She flipped the phone back open and said, "Christy," into the voice dial. After a couple of rings, Christy picked up.

  "Where are you?" Christy obviously knew it was Susie.

  "Nowhere. Isabella wants me to come home instead of going to your house."

  "Since when does your mother care if you come to my house? You can't catch clinical depression." Christy grunted into the phone, half serious.

  "Aay, no. I'm afraid I messed up at Mrs. Johnson's." Susie relayed the whole unfortunate incident. "I feel bad that baby Emma got hurt, but Dios mío, Mrs. Johnson's making a mountain out of it."

  "It was big to her, I guess."

  "I wish that brat, Bethany, hadn't ratted on me for being on the phone." Her car shook as a cement truck rumbled past her on the highway.

  Christy grunted on her end of the
phone. "Hang on a sec." She grunted again, this time with satisfaction.

  "What are you doing?" Susie frowned. Christy always had a way of not quite listening whenever Susie wanted to talk about her troubles.

  "I was trying to fit way too many clothes into this suitcase. I finally got it closed."

  Susie laughed. "You can always buy more clothes once you get there, muchacha."

  "Oh, believe me, I will." Christy laughed. "You should see it in here. Wall to wall boxes and suitcases. I didn't realize I had so much stuff."

  Susie felt her chest tighten. Her best friend was moving away.

  "Are you taking everything? Are you moving away for good?"

  Christy didn't answer right away. She was probably trying to find a way to break the news gently. Eventually she sighed into the phone. "I don't know. I'm gonna miss you. I definitely want you to visit me, but I have to start myself over, you know?"

  "I get that." Susie stayed quiet letting Christy direct the conversation.

  "I used to resent you, you know."

  "Why?"

  "Because you were the one that found me and didn't let me--"

  "Yeah," Susie interrupted so Christy didn't have to say the word die out loud.

  "Yeah."

  They were silent together, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't something Susie ever liked to think about, but she remembered the time when they were fourteen and fifteen respectively and she had gone to Christy's house. Christy's parents weren't home, but they never were. Susie let herself in when there was no answer at the front door and eventually found Christy in the upstairs bathroom. There was a lot of blood. Christy apparently hadn't had the nerve to cut her wrist too deeply, so Susie managed to stop the bleeding and nursed Christy through the entire weekend. Christy still bore the scar on her left wrist, but lately wore it like a badge of strength showing the world that she had bounced back from one of her lowest points.

  "So, uh," Christy began, "thanks for breaking up with Marlee that time."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, not many people would break up with somebody they so obviously loved just to keep me calm."

  "I was lucky." Susie shrugged even though Christy wouldn't be able to see it. "She took me back."

  "And you got me help. Not that I was happy about it at first."

  "I know, but you're working through stuff with your therapist, right?"

  "Yeah, I guess," Christy said. "So how's Marlee?"

  Susie welcomed the change in conversation. "She's good. She's working at D'Amico's today with Jeri."

  "I love that."

  "What? Marlee working at a restaurant?"

  Christy laughed. "No, dork. I love when your voice lights up when you talk about her. You've got it bad, girl."

  Susie's heart warmed over. "I know."

  "Susie steps up to the plate, bat in hand," Christy said in an announcer's voice. "She takes one look at the cute pitcher in the circle, and she's going, going, gone!"

  "Shut up!"

  "But it's so true, my friend. You hadn't even hit your grand slam yet, but, bam, you were in love with the cute blonde pitcher from Clarksonville."

  Susie laughed with her friend. "I was." She groaned. "I'm so head over heels about her. She drives me crazy."

  "In a good way?" Christy laughed suggestively.

  "Hey, I don't kiss and tell."

  "Maybe someday I'll find a guy that makes me happy like that."

  "You will."

  "That's why I'm getting the frick out of here."

  "Maybe I'll come with you." Susie sighed into the phone.

  "You can't avoid Isabella forever."

  "Pfft," Susie grunted. "I know. That's not all. Marlee's got a notso-secret admirer."

  "Ooh, besides you? Do tell!"

  Susie told Christy about the Southbridge pitcher, Bree, who had oh-so-obviously flirted with Marlee after the game the day before and even had the nerve to call her that morning.

  "The way I see Marlee look at you, I'd say you have nothing to worry about."

  "I don't know." Susie's nagging doubts came back to the surface from where she'd stuffed them.

  "You know what?"

  "What?"

  "I've never seen you back down from a fight. Ever. Even when I was beating the crap out of you in the dugout, you stood your ground until I was done being a maniac."

  "You weren't beating the crap out of me. You hit me once. You beat up the dugout more than me."

  "Yeah, well, my point is that if you love her, you'll fight for her." Christy grunted again.

  Susie chuckled. "Another suitcase closed?"

  "Yup, you're supposed to be here helping me."

  "I know. I'm sorry." Susie glanced at the time on her cell phone. "Shit, I have to go. See you at the game on Tuesday?"

  "Count on it."

  "I love you." Susie meant it. They had been as close as two best friends could get.

  "Me, too."

  Susie clicked her phone shut and laid it on the passenger seat. She checked the traffic on the two-lane highway, and once it was clear both ways, did a U-turn and headed home.

  Susie pulled her car into her usual spot on the side of the garage and toyed with the idea of bolting to her room to hide for a while, but it was best not to keep her mother waiting.

  She took off her sneakers in the mud room and headed into the house. She paused in front of her grandmother's shrine and crossed herself like a good catholic girl. She kept her eyes closed and murmured. "Blessed Virgin Mary, my dear heavenly mother, take me under your protection for I am about to be slaughtered by my own mother." She wanted to smile, but couldn't find the strength.

  With a deep breath she headed into the main part of the house. Her mother held a handful of plates and silverware and set them on the table. "Finish that." She didn't look at Susie.

  Susie scurried over and set the table without a word. She felt her mother's anger all around her like a thick fog, but there was nothing she could do about it until they had another one-sided discussion about her bonehead mistake at Mrs. Johnson's. Susie slunk into the kitchen. Her grandmother stood at the counter spooning the arroz con pollo onto a serving platter. Her mother wiped the counter with short swift movements and looked like she could blow at any moment.

  Taking a chance, Susie asked, "What else can I help you with, Mami?"

  "Go get your brother and father for dinner," came the terse answer.

  Susie spun on her heels and fled the kitchen as fast as her feet would take her.

  Once the Torres family was seated at the table and had said grace, Susie's father smiled sympathetically like she was a prisoner about to be sentenced. "So, how's the travelling team this summer, mi mariposita?"

  She loved it when he called her his little butterfly, and bless him for trying to change the mood at the table. "We're good. Christy's not pitching, but we have the Clarksonville pitcher this summer."

  "Marlee," Miguel singsonged, and Susie shot him a warning look. He made a face back at her, but didn't press it.

  "Ah, sí, I remember her. You always complained about that pitch she threw you--what was it?"

  "Her rise ball." Susie chuckled. "I can't hit that thing to save my life."

  He grinned at her sympathetically. She appreciated the attention-diverting small talk, but knew the clock was ticking down on the next head-handing discussion with her mother. Susie mostly pushed the food around on her plate, having lost her appetite. When her grandmother went into the kitchen and came out with the flan for dessert, Susie perked up. Apparently her loss of appetite didn't apply to dessert, and she savored each and every bite like a death-row inmate eating her last meal.

  "Mami," Miguel said as he pushed his now-empty dessert dish away, "can I go outside and play?"

  Her mother nodded once, and he bolted from the table almost knocking his chair over. Susie frowned as he left. When he wanted something from his parents, he used his little-boy voice. It worked on their mother every ti
me. Susie wondered if that would work for her. Not a chance. She was almost eighteen.

  Susie cleared the dishes while her mother took care of the leftover food. Her grandmother and father retreated to the living room to watch television. Her grandmother turned the volume up extra loud as if not wanting to hear the slaughter that was about to begin.

  Susie stood at the sink rinsing the dishes thinking how alike she and her mother were. Susie even resembled her mother, although Susie towered over her by about five or six inches. They had the same brownish-auburn colored hair, although her mother's mostly came from a box these days. They had the same brown eyes, too, except at the moment, her mother's eyes were dark, a gathering thunderstorm.

  "Susana," her mother said abruptly making Susie jump, "why did you put baby Emma in such danger?"

  "Mami, I didn't." Susie turned off the faucet and spun around to face her mother. "I would never put the baby in danger. Sí, I was on the phone, but I had just looked at the baby. I only looked away for a--"

  "Ella es un bebé. You can't take your eyes off a baby for a second. Ever!" Her mother's voice rose steadily in volume. "Especially once they learn to walk. They're curious about everything."

  Susie knew better than to try and defend herself any further. "Lo siento, Mami. I'm sorry I wasn't paying close enough attention."

  Susie's mother sighed and leaned back against the counter. "People like us," she said tersely, "can't afford to mess up in the slightest. We have to be twice as good as them to be thought half as good. People like us, aren't good enough to check the White box on those forms." She stared into space as if forgetting that Susie was even there. "No, they have that special little Hispanic box just for us. And it wouldn't matter anyway, have skin that's a little darker, and the whole world judges you immediately."

  Susie glanced looked down at her skin. Yeah, she was darker than all of her friends. Christy said once that it looked like she had a year-round tan. And now that summer was there, she was even darker.

  "So," her mother looked back at her, "it didn't matter that you cleaned their house, washed their clothes, did their gardening, made their breakfast, lunch, and dinner." Her mother's voice was increasing in volume again. "No, all that doesn't matter, because you had to be on the phone not paying attention to the one thing that was most important. The baby could have been seriously hurt."