"So am I."
They grinned at each other. It had taken time, but they'd finally
formed an alliance.
When Harlan came home he immediately knew something was up.
"Where're you going'?" he asked Cyndra, his big eyes accusing.
"Nowhere," she said, unable to look at him.
"We gotta tell him," Nick warned her in a low voice.
"Look, I love him as much as you do, but there's no way we can drag a
kid along. I know my mom-she'll get used to me splittin'but if we take
Harlan, she'll send the cops after us."
"We can't just walk out on him."
She stared at Nick, sour-faced. "If we tell him, he'll run straight to
Aretha Mae."
"Not if he makes us a promise."
"What's going' on?" Harlan asked, edging nearer.
"C'mere, kid," Nick said, patting his mattress. "Howdja like to have
this trailer all to yourself? You're getting' older now, you can bring
girls here, throw wild parties, huh?"
Harlan's eyes filled with tears. He'd known it was bad news. "You an'
Cyndra going' away, ain'tcha?"
"Yeah-we gotta go," Nick said. "But it ain't that bad."
Cyndra joined in. "One of these days I'll come back for you. That's a
promise.
Harlan shook his head. "No, you won't."
"Yes, I will," she insisted. "Wanna bet?"
"I'll take the bet," Nick said. "An' if she don't, I will. How's
that?"
Harlan was unconvinced. He wiped away his tears with the back of his
hand and tried to pretend it didn't matter.
Nick felt bad-but what could he do? He'd made a decision and he
intended to stick to it.
The next morning dawned exceptionally bright and clear. Since it was
payday the plan was for everybody to go to work, pick up their checks
and meet around six. Joey told his mother he would be away for the
weekend. Cyndra told Aretha Mae the same thing. Unfortunately Primo
overheard and launched himself into a sitting position. "Where you
going'?" he demanded, as if he had a right to know.
"None of your business," Cyndra replied sharply, hating the sight of
him.
Aretha Mae sensed something going on. She pulled her daughter to one
side and said in a hoarse whisper, "You got money comin' Real money.
Cyndra was surprised. "I have?"
"Mr. Browning-he came through."
"Why?" Cyndra asked suspiciously.
Cause I told him he hadda do what's right."
"I thought you didn't believe me."
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. It don't matter-he owes you."
"flow much money?" Cyndra asked quickly.
"We'll talk about it next week," Aretha Mae said.
"Why not now?"
"Now's not the time."
On their way to work Cyndra told Nick about the conversation.
"She knows," she said, nervously biting her thumbnail. "That's why
she's telling me bout this money now. Whyn't she tell me before?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Why is old man Browning givin' you money
anyway?"
"It's a long story, she said, clamming up.
He didn't push it; she'd tell him when she was ready.
Now that he'd made the decision to leave he was impatient, although he
did want to take the time to say goodbye to Betty Harris.
She'd been good to him, and he owed her that.
Since leaving the Brownings, Aretha Mae had been working over at the
canning plant. It was a tougher job than maid's work, but at least it
was a job. She hadn't told Primo she'd quit the Brownings, it was none
of his damn business. Taking Primo back had been a mistake.
She'd thought she might enjoy having a man around again, but what did
he give her? Pure nothing.
couldn't risk Aretha Mae revealing him for the pervert he was.
She'd banked the five thousand dollars he'd handed over in cash.
What a fine day that had been!
At first she hadn't planned on telling Cyndra about the money-it was
there for an emergency. But that morning she'd had a funny feeling
when Cyndra said goodbye. The girl was up to somethingand that's why
she'd mentioned the money. She didn't want her daughter doing anything
foolish-like running off with Joey Pearson.
A girl with Cyndra's looks could do far better than him.
On Fridays Aretha Mae worked a half day. Lately she'd been meeting
Harlan after school, taking him down Main Street and treating him to
ice cream. They were both lonesome since Luke's death.
She thought of Luke often, and her heart was filled with sadness.
Poor Luke. . . poor baby . . he'd never had a chance.
Harlan was standing outside school when she arrived. She tried to take
his hand but he pulled away from her.
"How ya doin', baby?" she asked, thinking what a fine-looking boy he
was.
"Don' call me that, Mama." Harlan glanced around, making sure none of
his schoolmates had heard.
"Gonna buy you ice cream," Aretha Mae promised.
Harlan's heart was heavy. He didn't want ice cream-he wanted God to
bring Luke back. And maybe at the same time God could persuade Cyndra
and Nick to stay.
Betty Harris wasn't surprised. "I knew you'd be on your way one of
these days," she said, inviting Nick into her living room. "I didn't
realize it would be so soon.
"There's nothing for me to hang around here for," he explained,
flopping down on her overstuffed couch. "I gotta get away from my old
man before I end up like him."
"What makes you think that would happen?" Betty asked.
Cause if I stay anywhere near him I ain't got no chance."
"And you imagine you'll have a chance in Chicago?"
"Why not? It's a big city."
"Big cities can be cruel places," she said quietly. "You're young and
good-looking. I'm sure you'll get plenty of offers-perhaps not always
the ones you expect."
"I can take care of myself," he said edgily.
"I know that." She sighed, thinking how vulnerable he was-in spite of
his tough exterior. "I'll miss you, Nick. Teaching you has been a
wonderful experience, you're really a talented boy. You have a natural
ability to become whatever character you're portraying."
She hesitated before giving him what she considered the ultimate
compliment. "Sometimes you remind me of a young James Dean."
He laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Hey, let's not get carried away or
maybe I won't go.
Betty Harris watched him, her expression serious. "If people see you,
if you get the right opportunities . . . I shouldn't encourage you,
because acting is the most difficult profession in the world." She
sighed again. "You do know that most actors are out of work most of
their lives, don't you?"
"I gotta take the chance," he said, wishing she'd cut out the negative
shit.
She nodded wisely. "Yes, that's the right attitude. Positive
thinking.
Wait here a minute."
She left the room and he got up and paced around. He loved being in
Betty's living room, it was so warm and comfortable, a real home.
There were photographs in silver frames
and stacks of interesting
books. God, how he wished he'd been encouraged to read as a child.
He hadn't even known what a book was until his first day of school.
He picked up a picture of Betty in a white lace gown, her hair tumbling
in soft curls around her youthful face.
"I was pretty, wasn't I?" she said, coming back into the room and
startling him.
"You still are," he replied gallantly.
"So young and so smart. There'll always be a woman to look after
you.
"That's not what I want."
"I know." She smiled and handed him a padded envelope.
"What's in it?" he asked, weighing it from hand to hand.
"Something I want you to have," she said earnestly.
"If it's money I can't take it."
"It's not."
"Can I open it?"
"Go ahead."
He tore the envelope open. It was Betty's precious signed copy of A
Streetcar Named Desire.
"Betty . . . Jeer, this is great."
"Good. I want you to have it."
He tucked the book under his arm. "Betty, I gotta tell you .
you've been so good time, I'll always remember you."
"I'll remember you too, Nick. Take care of yourself." Impulsively she
stepped forward and hugged him. He hugged her back, tightly.
Betty represented his last vestige of security and he was going to miss
her and their intense sessions.
When he left her house he did so without a backward glance. It was
time to move on. His new life was just beginning.
They met at six o'clock on Friday night-excited, maybe a little bit
frightened, but none of them showed it.
Joey had the trip all planned. The last bus to Ripley, and then they'd
hop a freight train all the way to Kansas City, and from there
-Chicago.
The three of them stared at one another.
"This is it!" Joey said.
"Goodbye, Bosewell," Cyndra said.
"I ain't comin' back till I've made it," Nick said confidently. "And I
will make it. Then I'll come back for Lauren. Bet on it." very
morning Lauren awoke with the same blank feeling. As soon as she
opened her eyes she felt a dull ache of despair, and there was nothing
she could do about it.
She'd begun to hate her parents. Walking into the kitchen and having
breakfast with them was an effort. Sitting at the table and listening
to their inane conversation. Didn't they realize they were killing her
inside? Didn't they realize they were mean-spirited and unrelenting
and, above all, wrong?
She thought about Nick all the time and in her heart she knew she had
to see him. But how? That was the big question: How?
Every day her father took her to school and her mother met her
afterward, driving up in the family station wagon, giving her no chance
to escape. This had been going on for six weeks-ever since she'd been
caught.
"When are you going to trust me?" she asked one day.
"When your father and I feel that we can," her mother replied with a
pious expression.
There was no point in pursuing it. Trying to change their opinion of
Nick was useless.
Today it was Monday, and Nick was on her mind more than ever.
She walked over to her bedroom window and gazed out. The sun blazed
hot and steady-unseasonably so. Downstairs she could hear her mother
calling out, "Lauren! Breakfast is ready."
Soon she would have to sit in the car next to her father as he dropped
her off at school. Delivered and collected. And she knew they checked
with the school secretary every day to make sure she hadn't taken
off.
Listlessly she wandered downstairs, ate the breakfast her mother had
prepared-picking at the food with absolutely no appetite at all -and
collected her books.
Phil Roberts appeared five minutes later. Was it her imagination, or
did the atmosphere between her parents seem tense? They hardly seemed
to talk anymore. She was sure she was responsible. It had to do with
the fact that her father had not concluded the insurance deal with
Benjamin Browning, therefore her mother had not received the social and
financial boost she'd expected, and this had obviously put a strain on
their relationship.
Too bad. It was nothing compared to what she was going through.
"It's hot today," Phil grumbled, struggling into his jacket and
grabbing a slice of toast on his way through the kitchen.
"The weather report says it will be hotter than yesterday," Jane
remarked.
Phil did not look in her direction. He walked into the hall and
examined himself in the mirror, reaching up to pull out a strand of
gray hair. "I'll be home late tonight," he called out, picking up his
briefcase.
Jane did not respond. She slammed dishes into the sink and ran the
water.
On the way to school Lauren decided to open up a conversation.
"Daddy, can we talk?" she began, determined to get through to him.
"Not today, Lauren," he said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"I'm not in the mood."
"When will you be in the mood?"
"Stop bothering me.
Her life was breaking into little pieces and all her father could say
was "Stop bothering me." Once she'd felt she could go to him with any
problem, now there was a cold war between them. Didn't he care that he
was driving her away?
When he dropped her off she didn't even bother saying goodbye.
Dawn Kovak lingered near the lockers. She and Dawn were not exactly
close friends, but Dawn greeted her as if they were. "Did you hear
what Nick did to Stock?" Dawn asked.
Lauren was immediately alert. "What?"
Dawn was determined to draw it out. "You mean you haven't heard?"
"No. Are you going to tell me or not?"
Dawn smoothed down her tight skirt. "No need to get edgy."
"I'm not edgy. If you have something to tell me, go ahead."
"Well, from what I hear, Nick knocked Stock on his ass." Dawn couldn't
help giggling.
Lauren waited to hear more. "Are you sure?"
"It happened outside the drugstore. Stock was on his way in with a
couple of guys, and Nick was on his way out. They got into some kinda
beef and Nick creamed him. Funny, huh?"
Even though she was dying to hear all the details Lauren attempted to
stay cool. "Is . . . is Nick all right?"
"To tell you the truth," Dawn replied matter-of-factly, "me and Nick-we
don't see each other anymore.
Lauren nodded. "Oh."
"Look," Dawn said, suddenly sympathetic, "I got the message about how
he feels about you. I wouldn't interfere with that."
Lauren felt tears sting her eyelids. Nobody had spoken to her about
Nick before, there wasn't anyone she could confide in. "My parents
won't allow me to see him," she said miserably. "I don't know what to
do."
Dawn looked suitably concerned. "Yeah, Joey told me. Listen," she
added jauntily, "parents are a pain-maybe they'll change their
minds."
Lauren shook her head. "Not my parents." She paused for a moment. "I
feel so bad about everything.
It's my fault Nick got kicked out of
school. I mean, if it wasn't for me . .
"Don't sweat it. He's happy working down at the gas station, beats
school any day. And it's not your fault. Stock's the one that had his
parents do the dirty."
"I know you're right, but sometimes I wake up in the morning and all I
want to do is run away.
Dawn nodded understandingly. "We all get that feeling."
"Really?"
"Sure. It's natural."
A couple of girls rushed past on their way to class. "C'mon, Lauren,
you'll be late," one of them called out.