Speed of Life (20 page)

He talks me into a refurbished one instead of new, which is really why I asked him for help in the first place—​he knows about stuff like that. If you want to buy a car, you should ask me, but for everything else, Han's your guy.

A week later I'm the proud owner of a pre-owned shiny black laptop.

Now that school's over, Amber starts working most nights at the Glass Slipper and weekdays at Big Apple Pizza so she can make as much money as possible for the move. David's busy with a summer internship and I pick up a lot of his shifts at the station, plus it's busier in the shop, so I get to work in there on the weekends. We can still take Nat to the daycare at the school for the summer. The idea is to give new graduates a chance to either work full-time or find jobs if they don't have one.

We fall into a routine, but Nat still keeps us hopping. She wants to do everything herself. She won't let us feed her and grabs the spoon every time. Things that used to take ten minutes now take thirty. And she gets better at scooting and pulling herself up, holding on to the edges of furniture and moving so fast that we're always lunging after ballpoint pens and Gil's pipe before she can grab them and stick them in her mouth.

“God,” Amber says one evening as she pries a lighter out of Natalie's chubby little hands while she screeches. “I didn't think we'd ever be as tired as we were right after she was born. But she's killing me.”

I'm collapsed on the couch. “I know. Me too.”

I take Natalie outside as much as possible so she can get fresh air, and she loves Bonehead, which is good. He follows her around our little yard, getting between her and the sidewalk if she starts to go too far and herding her back to where it's safe. Who knew he could actually be useful for something besides being a car alarm? While he watches her, I mess around with the engine of my car or take five-minute breathers in the sunshine.

Ever since Amber decided we could go to Kansas, things have been great between us. We haven't been able to find an apartment in McPherson yet, but we talk about moving all the time. It's like our old plan, except better, because after four years, we're gonna come back to Portland and I'll be able to make a real living. I haven't told anyone this, but I've come up with an even better idea than buying Jimmy's shop when he retires. I'm thinking the two of us should go into business together—​sell the gas station and open a real full-service restoration shop. With his connections and the skills I'll learn, me and Jimmy'd be a great team.

I'm working at the station almost every day, and I can't help but see the price of gas going up, up, up. It's seventeen hundred miles to McPherson, and the Mustang isn't exactly known for its good gas mileage. This trip's going to cost us a lot. To help us cut down on travel expenses, Han finds us some secondhand camping gear so we don't have to stay in a motel every night. Amber's not sure a tent is a great idea with a baby, but I keep telling her it'll be an adventure.

The problem is, Amber's not acting like she wants an adventure. In fact, she's freaking me out a little. “If we can find a two-bedroom apartment,” I tell her, “it'll be like a mansion. Especially after the tent. Can you imagine Natalie having her own room?”

Amber looks at me and I'm surprised by the alarm on her face. “I don't want her to have her own room! I want to keep sharing with both of you. Promise me we'll get a studio.”

“I doubt anyone will rent us a studio for three people. But we can get a one-bedroom if you want and all share.”

“I do, Crys. I'm going to be alone enough as it is.”

School doesn't start until the twenty-first of August, but as July flies by, we're getting pretty worried about finding a place to live. As usual, Han comes through for us. He drops by the station and follows me around while I'm pumping gas.

“It's a one-bedroom, the top floor of a house, right in town. You can walk to campus. I talked to the landlord on the phone,” he says, “and she's okay with having a baby in the apartment, but you have to rent the place from the first of August.”

“I was hoping someone would let us do half the month.”

“I know, but she told me she's got a big waiting list of people who want the place, so you better take it.”

I scrub the windshield of a 1999 Ford pickup while the guy goes inside to pay. “Okay. We're in. Thanks, Han.”

Once the apartment's rented, we make a firm plan to leave on July twenty-eighth. I want to take it slow on the road. When Natalie was younger, she would've slept the whole way, but now we worry she's gonna be restless. Also, I've never driven so far, and I'm not sure how tired I'll get. We're also thinking that if we get to town ahead of most of the students, Amber can find a part-time job before all the good ones are taken.

I thought she'd be thrilled to hear Han found us such a nice place to live, but instead she gets all teary about leaving everyone behind.

“The heat's included in the rent,” I tell her. “And an air conditioner, too.”

“Yeah, I know . . . It's just . . .”

“Just what?”

“I don't know. Ignore me. I'm being stupid.”

I try to stay excited about going, but Amber seems so sad all the time that I spend a lot of energy trying to think of ways to make the move easier for her. One day when Mom and Gil are out, I get Han to come over and help us set up Skype on my new computer. “So you can talk to Jade and Aunt Ruby whenever you want,” I tell Amber.

Instead of cheering her up, that makes her look sadder, her face all worry lines and glistening eyes. “Mom doesn't have Skype.”

Mom's the last person I thought Amber would miss. Aunt Ruby and Jade, yeah, but Mom? They get along okay, but they're definitely not close. “We'll get a phone,” I tell her, hoping that'll make her feel better. “And I was thinking, maybe we could fly home for spring break.”

She sighs, her chin drooping, and I look at Han for help. He shrugs.

“Amber? What's wrong?” My heart clenches when I say it. If she's backing out on me now, only ten days before we leave, I'm going to have a stroke.

She shakes her head and gives me a fake smile. “Nothing. Everything's fine.”

Natalie yells to be picked up, and Han goes over and gets her out of the swing he found at a garage sale for ten bucks. “I'm gonna miss you, baby,” he says.

“Han. Han. Han,” Natalie babbles, smiling up at him.

“Did you hear that?” he asks. “She obviously loves me more than she loves you. I haven't heard her say Amber or Crystal.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You buy her so much crap,” Amber says. “That's why she likes you.”

“I only get her good stuff. Don't I, Nattie? I get you the most awesomest things ever, don't I?” She grins at him and pulls his hair until he squawks. “Hey! Let go, let go!”

We all laugh. I think I might actually miss Han once we're gone. He's kind of grown on me over the last year.

One steaming hot day about a week before we're supposed to leave, we're all out in the yard together. I offer a lick of cherry Popsicle to Natalie. She's whining in frustration and trying to peel my fingers off the stick so she can hold it. When I don't let go, she screeches at me and bangs her feet into my side, but I don't give in. I know she'll just drop it, and Bonehead's eaten enough Popsicles this week already. He's hovering, on full alert.

“I was thinking,” Amber says. “Maybe I could come home for Thanksgiving.”

“You want to come back that soon?”

“I'm gonna miss everyone. If I have something to look forward to . . .”

I'm about to tell her I'm not sure we can afford it when Bonehead lunges forward and snags the Popsicle out of my hand. Then Nat's screaming and Amber's doubled over laughing, and I'm chasing Bonehead, hoping to get the stick before he chomps it to pieces and chokes on it. Neither one of us brings up Thanksgiving again, but it hangs over us like a rain cloud.

The next week is made up of a bunch of “lasts.” The Friday before we leave is the last time Nat goes to daycare. The weird thing is that she seems to know it, and when Mei-Zhen hugs her goodbye, she clings to her and cries when I take her.

“That was weird,” Amber says when we get out to the car.

“Totally. I didn't even know she liked Mei-Zhen.”

“I think she's nicer to the babies than she is to the moms.”

“Probably.”

Han takes us out to dinner that night, which he jokingly refers to as the “last supper.” Me and Amber roll our eyes, but we've gotten used to his goofiness. He pretty much ignores us the whole time anyway, talking to and feeding Natalie, squeezing her toes to make her laugh, and holding her in his lap while we eat.

Sunday is Amber's last night at the Glass Slipper, and Aunt Ruby invites us to hang out after the bar closes for a little family goodbye. I don't really want to go, but honestly, I'm afraid to skip it. Jade's going to be there, and I know she's been trying to talk Amber into staying in Portland.

Around ten o'clock, I take Natalie over to Jade's. Her boyfriend, Teddy, is watching her girls and said it was okay if we leave Nat there too. I don't know him, but Amber swears he's a good guy. I give him a whole bunch of instructions in case Natalie wakes up. She'll probably sleep, but I leave Teddy two bottles, strained carrots, diapers, and toys.

After ten minutes of tapping her foot, Jade drags me out to the car. “He knows what he's doing. He hasn't killed my kids yet.”

“A ringing endorsement,” I say.

Teddy waves from the porch, smiling. I have to admit, he seems pretty responsible. In fact, it's like he's a grownup. He's got to be close to thirty, and he has a real job with the phone company. His car is a spotless and boring 2007 Toyota Corolla, which reassures me because it probably means he's a little boring too.

I'm determined to get along with Jade tonight for Amber's sake. It's not like we hate each other, but we have never really liked each other, either. Once we're in the car, I say, “Your hair looks cool.”

“Thanks.” She's cropped it really short and spiked it up. I'm pretty sure the dark brown shade is natural, too, but I haven't seen her real color since we were kids. “After that red dye job it was pretty brittle, so I decided to start over.”

“It looks good.”

We're almost to the Glass Slipper when Jade says, “You know, Amber doesn't want to go to Kansas.”

I get that familiar sinking feeling in my stomach that I've had for weeks every time I look at my sister. “Only because you keep telling her it's a bad idea.”

“It is.”

“No, it's not.”

I slide into a parking spot and kill the engine.

“Maybe not for you, but it is for her. She likes her job, and she was totally committed to your ‘plan,' if you remember.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Look, Jade, can you just let us do this? Please? We've worked it out, and the last thing I need three days before we leave is you giving her doubts.”

She opens the car door. “She's already got them. And if you cared about anyone besides yourself, you'd know that.”

Inside, the bar's still open, so I hang out in the dish room with Amber. Jade's twenty-one, though, and she goes off to play darts with a couple of regulars. Amber's wearing rubber gloves and has her hands deep in a sink full of soapy water.

She looks up at me, her eyes big and sad. “These are the last pots I'm ever gonna scrub here.”

“If it was me, I'd be happy about that.”

She gives me a fake smile. Is Jade right? Is Amber only doing this for me? When we'd first talked about getting our apartment in McPherson, she'd sounded totally committed, like once she'd decided to go, she thought it would be exciting, but lately . . . well, I'm not so sure.

I try to cover my worry with cheerfulness. “So what's the plan for tonight?”

Amber shrugs. “I don't know. I guess Brad's gonna make all my favorite foods—​veggie burgers and onion rings, cheesecake—​and we're all going to hang out.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yeah.”

Okay, kill us now. That would lighten the mood in here. My stomach tightens into that familiar knot.

“Hey, chickens,” Aunt Ruby says, sticking her head through the dish window. “It's totally dead out here tonight, so I'm closing early. Finish up and let's party!”

I pull on an apron and help Amber with the last of the pots and pans. I try to get her to talk about our road trip, but she barely answers. I start thinking maybe we should leave for Kansas tomorrow instead of Wednesday. The sooner I get her out of here, the better.

Half an hour later, we're all sitting around a table piled with food. The weird thing is, Brad's the only one drinking alcohol.

“You can have a beer,” I tell Jade and Amber. “I'm driving.”

“That's okay,” Amber says. “I'm not up for one, and Jade doesn't drink anymore.”

I look over at my cousin. “Really?”

“Don't act so surprised,” Jade says. “You hardly know me.”

That's true. Still, out of all my cousins, she's always been the biggest partier.

We're a sad little group, and I tell myself it's because we're all going to miss each other, nothing more than that. Amber picks at her food but doesn't eat much, and I don't either. The knot in my stomach makes it impossible.

After about an hour of small talk, Aunt Ruby takes out two envelopes. “One for Crystal. And one for Amber.”

“You go first,” Amber tells me.

Inside is a check for five hundred dollars. I look at Aunt Ruby. “Seriously?”

“College is expensive. I'm sure you can use it.”

“Wow. This is amazing. Thank you so much.” She shrugs like it's no big deal, but I'm thinking this will buy a lot of gas on the road.