Dreamcatchers: The Beginnings

Cristina Salat

Green Flame Omnimedia

LIVING IN SECRET

Chapter 1:

GONE

In the middle of the night my mother comes to steal me away.

I am still up, reading under my covers with a flashlight, half-listening for Daddy or his girlfriend, Rosa, when I hear a muffled bump outside my window. I peek out from under the blankets but don’t see anything except the faint glow from the streetlight. Then, all of a sudden, there she is. Mom puts a finger to her lips and motions for me.

I scramble out of bed and tiptoe across the room to unlock the window. We ease it open and it squeaks a little, but I don’t think Daddy or Rosa will hear. The cold October wind blows in and makes me shiver.

Mom is standing on a ladder. She is wearing jeans and a dark sweatshirt with the hood up.

Are you ready? she whispers.

I nod.

I pull on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Mom gestures for me to hurry. She is nervous standing there on the ladder. Someone might see her and think she’s a burglar.

I don’t know who, though. No one on Clover Lane would be up at three o’clock in the morning.

I jam my feet into purple hightop sneakers. Then I drag my packed suitcase out from under the bed. I have all the things Mom said I should take: my favorite clothes, pictures of me from Daddy’s photo albums, and important papers, like my birth certificate, which I had to steal from Daddy’s desk drawer.

Mom goes down the ladder first, carrying the suitcase under one arm. I look around my room one last time, letting the flashlight’s glow flicker silently across the bed, the ruffled dresser, my TV and phone, the empty poster stand in the comer. It’s a pretty room, but I’ve never felt like it was mine. Rosa picked out almost everything before we moved into this new house three years ago.

I shut off the flashlight, place it on my bookshelf, and turn back to the window. Mom is at the bottom of the ladder, looking up, waiting for me. We have been waiting to be together for a long time. I climb out, feet first, and step downward, one rung at a time.

When I reach the ground, Mom hands me my suitcase, folds up the metal ladder, and turns it sideways so she can carry it. She scuffs away the marks the ladder made in the ground with her foot. I bend over, scoop up a handful of moist red and yellow leaves from under the big maple tree, and toss them around to cover our footprints.

We ease around to the front of the house and down the cement driveway. The street is dark and silent. I expect to see Janey’s truck with the white lettering on its doors:

HEROLDS & COMPANY

HOUSEPAINTERS

INSIDE & OUT

But Janey is waiting at the comer in a small U-Haul. She gets out and smiles at me. I haven’t seen her in a while.

Mom and Janey hoist the ladder into the back of the truck. It clatters a little and I look around, thinking someone will throw open a door and shout, what’s going on out there?!

But no one does.

My suitcase joins two others in the back of the U-Haul. Mom motions for me to climb in front. Janey puts the gearshift in neutral, and she and Mom push the truck silently around the corner. I look back just once at the house I’ve lived in since I was eight.

Good-bye Daddy, I think to myself. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.

Mom and Janey jump in. Janey starts the engine and drives us away. She doesn’t switch the headlights on until two blocks later.

My hands are cold and sweaty. I wiggle them down into my pockets to warm up. Mom puts her arm around me and I lean against her. She keeps checking her watch.

Watch your speed, she says to Janey. The last thing we need is to be stopped.

I’m only doing sixty, Janey says, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Eventually I see signs to New York City.

We’re going to the city? I ask, sitting up. That doesn’t seem far enough away. Daddy works there!

We’re going to California, Mom says, staring straight ahead. You and Janey are going tonight. I’ll fly out to meet you as soon as I can.

You’re not coming with us? I ask, getting scared. I thought we were all going together.

They’ll look for us, Amelia, Janey says. And if they find us, you’ll have to come back and we’ll be in big trouble. Your mom is going to throw them off the track.

Mom’s arm squeezes my shoulders. Janey will explain everything to you later, she says. I can barely hear her.

When we see the first sign for Kennedy Airport, Janey pulls over to the side of the road. Mom switches on the overhead light and pulls two hairy things in a plastic bag from under the truck seat. Wigs! Two black wigs!

Janey puts hers on. It is long and straight. My wig is gathered into a ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. Mom pins my real hair up with bobby pins and helps me put the wig on. She fastens it to my head with little wads of pink tape, which I know will hurt to pull off. The wig has bangs that tickle my forehead, but I don’t complain. Then Mom removes her makeup bag from the glove compartment.

This will make you look older, she says, fixing my face. She even puts a little mascara on my eyelashes. It doesn’t feel as great as I always thought it would. In fact, it feels like sleep crust.

Don’t rub your eyes, Mom says, taking a brand-new, folded-up windbreaker out of the glove compartment. It is one of those big, pull-over-your-head kind with the zipper pocket in front, the kind I’ve been wanting for a while, and bright red to match the hair ribbon in my wig.

I pull it on and try to smile.

We drive into Kennedy Airport just as the sun begins to rise. Planes are taking off and landing even at this hour. Everything is lit up for miles around. Janey pulls the truck into a parking lot and we get out.

Mom is crying. She asks me if I have the letter for Daddy. I get it out of the front pocket of my suitcase. She takes the letter out of its envelope and reads it silently. I wrote it three weeks ago, but I remember exactly what it says:

Dear Daddy,

I am running away from home. I love you, but I don't want to live with you anymore. You’re never home and Rosa is always on the phone with her friends. You don’t need me around. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

Love, Amy

Everybody calls me Amy, except Mom and Janey, who call me Amelia, which is my real name. Daddy says Amelia is an old maid’s name, so he started calling me Amy when he got custody. I was six then.

Mom puts the letter in her back pocket and bends over to hug me. She makes my neck wet.

We have to go, Claire, Janey says.

Mom holds me away from her. Be good, Amelia.

I'm always good, I say. That gets her to smile.

Yes, you are.

Are you coming to California soon? I feel a lump in my throat.

As soon as I can, Pumpkin.

We hug again.

Janey says, Claire...

Mom stands up and hugs her too. They kiss on the lips. Then Janey hands me my suitcase and Mom gets into the U-Haul.

Janey and I walk toward the American Airlines terminal. Mom honks once as she drives by. Janey drops one of her suitcases to blow kisses. I wave. We watch the orange and white truck disappear around the bend.

Well, kiddo, we’re off . . . she says, looking nervous.

Are we doing something illegal? I ask.

She looks me in the eye, and nods.

I think Janey must like my mother a lot.

We have tickets to Dallas, Texas. Janey gives them to me to hold while we are standing on line waiting to check our bags. I study the tickets. They are for two people named Megan and Julie Dreisden. Both are adult tickets, for the same price, so I guess I am supposed to look over twelve in the wig and the makeup.

We get boarding passes. No one seems to wonder why we are traveling at 6:30 on a Saturday morning. There are other kids around. I wonder if they are going someplace just for the weekend or if they will get to miss school on Monday, too.

I love airports!

Janey and I go into a souvenir shop that sells New York City snow domes and T-shirts, but we just buy magazines and gum. Janey hurries me along. She calls me Julie. I’m not sure if she’s supposed to be my mother or sister or what, so I don’t call her anything.

Our plane is already boarding at Gate 27. We show our tickets and walk right on. I have a window seat!

The captain announces a slight delay. Janey flips through her magazine, tapping her fingers against each page. I can tell she’s not reading a word. I start feeling scared again.

Daddy couldn’t be holding up the plane, could he? He never gets up until noon on weekends. He probably won’t even miss me until tonight. He’ll think I went to my piano class and then to Tina’s house or the mall like I usually do. I keep my face turned toward the window, just in case. I also keep my feet tucked under my seat. Daddy would recognize my purple hightops; he’s always trying to get me to throw them away because they have holes in them.

Finally the plane revs its motor and backs up. I hear Janey let her breath out. We rumble along the runway and swoosh! There we are, up in the sky.

New York City looks very tiny as we leave it behind.

The flight attendant brings me a 7UP. Janey has orange juice. In between sips, she takes a notebook from her leather handbag, writes in it, and passes it to me. Her note says:

We are going to San Francisco. I’ve rented a house for us. It has a backyard. Your mother said you can get a cat or a dog, if you want. Do you have any questions?

I chew on the end of Janey’s pen for a minute. I have so many questions, I don’t know which ones to ask first.

Do I have to have a fake name in San Francisco? Will I go to a new school? What is Mom going to do with my letter to Daddy?

Janey writes back:

1) Yes. Your mother and I chose the names Kathy, Megan, and Julie Dreisden to use in setting up our plan, but you can pick a different first name for yourself if you want. 2) Not right away. 3) Claire will mail your letter from Manhattan. She is going to pretend she knows nothing about your running away and will act frantic and angry when your father tells her. Then she’ll quit her job to go looking for you, and eventually come to live with us!

I write:

That’s a good plan.

Janey takes the notebook and draws a smiley face as the flight attendant comes by with the breakfast wagon.

The scrambled eggs look more like egg soup. Janey doesn’t touch hers, but I try mine with a spoon while I think about what name I want to have in San Francisco. I think I want a pretty name like Heather or Nicole. Or maybe an unusual one. There’s this girl, Phoenix, in my class. I’ve always thought that was the greatest name.

I can’t believe this is finally happening. Four months ago, it was only an idea. Mom drove out to see me at the end of June. Daddy had just enrolled me at this art camp in Connecticut, after promising me he’d think about letting me spend the whole summer with Mom at her apartment in Rockville Centre. Any other time I would have loved to go to art camp, but not this summer! Mom and I had already made lots of fun plans. When I told her our summer was off, she got really upset. I did too. Ever since Daddy bought a new house and we moved to Greenport, which is at the very tip of Long Island, my mother and I hardly got to see each other anymore.

That day in June, Mom parked her car at the docks, and we talked about how lousy it was being apart all the time. As we watched the Shelter Island ferries rumble in and out of the wooden docks, Mom told me that maybe she and I and Janey could all go away somewhere and live together if I wanted to.

Janey is Mom’s girlfriend. They’re lesbians. That’s why a judge said I had to live with Daddy after he and Mom got divorced. I wanted to live with my mother, but Daddy and the judge said it would be better for me not to grow up around Mom’s lifestyle. I’m still not exactly sure what they meant, but it has to do with Mom being with Janey.

Daddy can’t stand Janey, but I think she’s nice. A lot nicer than his girlfriend, Rosa.

I didn’t even have to think about Mom’s idea. Some kids don’t care which parent they live with after a divorce, but I do. My mom and I really get along. And my father is hardly ever home. So it makes sense that I should live with my mother.

Mom wrote me every week while I was away at camp, but none of her letters said anything about our idea because it was a secret. I didn’t know if it was really going to happen or not until just a few weeks ago when my teachers had a Conference Day. I didn’t tell Daddy about school being closed so I could take the Long Island Rail Road to Rockville Centre and surprise Mom. I walked into the bank where she works and went right up to her desk before she noticed me.

Mom was so happy to see me, she took the rest of the day off. We got sandwiches at a deli and spent the afternoon at a park. She asked me all about art camp and we talked about how great it would be to live together again.

She said she was making plans, but didn’t want to tell me too much because then I’d have to lie to my father. The next time I saw her, she told me what day to be packed and ready. And now here I am, on my way to California.

What will Daddy do when I don’t come home tonight?

He’ll probably tell Rosa to call Tina’s house, but Tina won’t know where I am. I hope he doesn’t think I’ve been kidnapped or anything. When he gets my letter on Monday, he’ll know I just ran away. I bet he’ll be mad, but he won’t be able to figure out where I am because no one knows about the plan except Mom, Janey, and me.

The plane begins to descend over Dallas Airport. I chew two sticks of gum to keep my ears from hurting.

After the plane lands, Janey and I file off with everybody else and go to the metal baggage carousel.

I have to go to the bathroom, I tell her. My stomach feels kind of queasy. Janey was right not to eat those eggs.

As I wash my hands, I catch a glimpse of myself in the long mirror over the row of bathroom sinks. For a second I don’t recognize the skinny girl with black hair and long eyelashes.

Hi, Nicole, I say to my reflection. Hi, Phoenix. I look different, older...but I don’t look like a Nicole or a Phoenix.

The wig feels tight and my face is sticky. I want to wash off the makeup, but I don’t.

Janey and I take a shuttle bus from the American Airlines terminal to the Northwest Airlines terminal. She has two tickets for us, under another set of names, from Dallas to San Francisco. Our flight doesn’t leave for three hours. We find two seats together in the rows of plastic chairs.

Where are you going? Janey asks, as I start toward the magazine shop. Are you hungry?

No.

Sit down then.

I want to look around.

Not now, Janey says in a stern voice. I don’t want to have to worry about where you are.

The Northwest Airlines plane is not much different from the American one. I don’t even bother to look out of the window as we take off. When the seat-belt sign blinks off, I lean my seat back as far as it will go and try to sleep. It isn’t easy; my back hurts from sitting in those dumb plastic chairs for three hours.

Later Janey gently shakes me awake. The captain announces that we are approaching San Francisco International Airport.

Almost there, Janey says.

I rub my eyes. They sting. I look at my watch. It’s 4:08 P.M. in New York.

You missed the Grand Canyon. Janey leans past me to look out the window. I can’t imagine heading west in a covered wagon across all those miles and miles of nothing. She settles back in her seat. Well, we’re pioneers in our own way.

I turn my head and look out of the window. We’re really in California?

The plane lands. We go to find our luggage again. There are lots of people. They all seem to know where they are going. I stick close to Janey. I don’t know about this.

What if my mother never comes here?

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Chapter 2:

THE SUNSHINE HOUSE

We take a taxi-van from the airport to our new house, whizzing along a freeway, and then veering through a series of curved streets.

Is this your first time in San Francisco? the driver asks, glancing over his shoulder at us.

No, Janey says, clutching her handbag on her lap.

Vacation?

Sort of... I can tell she wishes he would stop being friendly.

The van creeps up a steep, winding hill and stops in front of a crooked yellow house. Here we are! the driver says, hopping out to get our luggage.

As soon as I get out of the van and look up at our new home, I name it the Sunshine House. That’s what it looks like, sunshine yellow with bushes of bright pink flowers by the front steps. I start feeling like this is an adventure again.

Janey takes a key out of her handbag and unlocks the front door. We carry our suitcases into the house, which smells still and musty, like no one’s lived here for a very long time. She opens the first door on the left and flicks on the light.

This is the bedroom Claire and I will share, she says.

It is a large room with one piece of furniture in it, a gigantic, hand-carved bed. But you and I will sleep in here for now. She hangs her trench coat in the empty closet and kicks off her shoes.

I explore the house. My sneakers slap against the hardwood floor as I walk down the dusty hallway into the kitchen. The kitchen’s overhead light is dim, filling the room with shadows, but I still notice large spiderwebs over the stove.

Glass doors lead from the kitchen into the empty living room, where I peek through a smudged window into a sunny, wild grass yard out back. Upstairs, I find two smaller rooms and a tiny second bathroom with slanted ceilings, sort of like an attic. This house is smaller than Daddy’s house, but much bigger than Mom’s apartment.

I go back down the crooked staircase and find Janey pulling sweats and a towel out of her suitcase.

Fourteen hours on the road. I am so beat. She heads across the hall.

I unzip my suitcase and dig around for my nightgown and my stuffed monkey, No Name, the one my mother gave me when I was five and the divorce started happening. This monkey has slept with me in each place I’ve moved to since then.

The bathroom is all yours, Janey says, coming back into the room. Do you need help getting your wig off?

No, I can do it, I say, setting No Name on the bed.

Janey drapes her clothes at the end of the bed and tucks her money belt under the mattress. Then she unpacks an orange and red afghan from her suitcase. My favorite granny left this to me, she says, unfolding it carefully.

She bunches up a clean shirt for a pillow and lies down, spreading the afghan over herself with a contented sigh.

I head for the bathroom. It hurts to take the wig off, just like I thought it would, because the pink tape sticks to my pinned-up hair. I work at it very slowly. Then I scrub the makeup off my face and reach for Janey’s damp towel.

Hi, Tanya...hi, Heather... I whisper to my reflection in the bathroom mirror, removing the bobby pins. My reflection makes a face at me. I don’t look like a Tanya or a Heather.

I click off the lights and climb under the afghan next to Janey. She is breathing heavily. Sunlight filters through the bedroom window. It’s 5:39 in the afternoon on Long Island but only 2:39 here in San Francisco. I wonder if Daddy has figured out I’m gone yet. And if he has, has he called Mom to tell her? No, he’d want to wait and be sure.

Mom is probably eating dinner now unless she is too nervous to eat, thinking about me and Janey moving into the new house all by ourselves.

I hug No Name tight and move closer to Janey. It’ll be all right. Pretty soon Mom will be here and we’ll all be together, just like we planned.