Chapter 5 - The Future She Left Behind

Katelyn drove away from Earl’s and got on the interstate. She’d gone only a few miles when she glanced at the passenger-seat floor. “Where’s your purse?”

Shirley stared at her feet. “It was right here a minute ago.”

“I bet you left it in the booth at the restaurant.” Katelyn swallowed a groan and moved into the right lane, then took the next exit. Why hadn’t she noticed that Shirley had walked off without her purse?

Ten minutes later Katelyn pulled up to the diner. “Wait here.” She went inside and thanked Beth for stowing the purse behind the counter and then returned to the car and handed it to Shirley.

“Is all my money still there?”

“I’m sure Beth didn’t help herself to your cash. Not after you left a nice tip.”

Shirley opened her purse and rifled through her wallet.

“Do you have all your credit cards?”

“How many did I have?”

“Two.” Don had taken over Shirley’s finances and canceled all her department store cards after she came to live with them.

“I have them.” Shirley set her purse on the floor.

Crisis handled, Katelyn merged onto the highway, then set the cruise control at seventy and took her foot off the gas.

“Oh . . .” Shirley placed her hand against her stomach.

Katelyn glanced across the seat. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you say something when we went back for your purse?”

“My stomach didn’t bother me then.”

A mile up the road a sign advertising GAS appeared, and for the third time in an hour, Katelyn left the highway.

“This place is out of business,” Shirley said.

Katelyn rolled through the four-way stop at the end of the exit ramp and turned into the gravel lot. “There’s an Open sign on the door.” Years of dirt and grime coated the exterior of the convenience store. Splotches of beige paint had been slapped over the graffiti on the brick. Posters advertising cigarettes, beer and fireworks wallpapered the front window, and a rusted ice machine, leaking water, sat on the cement slab next to the door. As soon as Katelyn parked, Shirley bolted from the car, leaving her purse behind.

Katelyn waited ten minutes; then when Shirley hadn’t returned, she locked the Mercedes and went inside to check on her. A bell tied to the door announced her presence.

OMG, as her daughter would have said. Two rows of metal shelving held an array of mystery foods, the endcaps filled with an assortment of toiletries: Aquafresh toothpaste, Lady Speed Stick deodorant, a package of white tube socks, a box of loose plastic combs for fifty-nine cents apiece, Gillette disposable razor blades, VO5 hair spray, Bic lighters and a twenty-four pack of Contempo Rough Rider Studded Condoms.

“I got more choices behind the counter.”

Startled, she glanced behind her. A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a pockmarked face leaned against the register. Ketchup splatters marred the image of Jimi Hendrix on the front of his gray tank.

“More choices?”

“Love gloves . . . raincoats.” When he grinned, the lump of tobacco inside his mouth crawled up his cheek and rested beneath his right eye.

“I’m looking for my mother-in-law.” Katelyn’s gaze skipped over the aisles, but Shirley’s straw-colored head was nowhere in sight.

He jutted his chin toward the Employees Only sign hanging on the far wall. “She ain’t too friendly.”

Since Katelyn had insisted on eating at Earl’s, she felt compelled to defend Shirley. “My mother-in-law has her good points.” She looked out the window and stared longingly at the car, hoping they’d make it to Norman before dark; then she walked to the back of the store and knocked on the door. “Shirley?”

No answer.

“Are you okay?”

The roar of a flushing toilet met her ears. The door opened, and a pasty-faced Shirley—shirttail hanging out of her slacks and beads of perspiration dotting her forehead—glared at her. “This is all your fault.”

Katelyn kept her mouth closed because Shirley looked miserable, and escorted the wobbly woman to the front of the store.

“If you hadn’t insisted we eat at that filthy—”

“Fresh air will help.” She ignored the clerk’s grin and hustled her mother-in-law outside. After helping her into the car, Katelyn started the engine and turned on the air. “Hold tight.” She went back into the market and picked out a liter of Sprite, a box of crackers with a week-old expiration date and a travel-sized bottle of Pepto-Bismol. “Where’s the nearest motel?”

“Stroud is ten miles down the road. The town’s got a couple of places.” He pushed the items toward her. “You want a bag?”

She shook her head. “How much?”

“Sixteen dollars and twelve cents.”

She set a twenty on the counter.

“You want the change?”

“Yes.” She dropped the coins into the plastic charity tub next to the register, figuring the money would find its way into the man’s pocket the second she drove off.

After Katelyn got behind the wheel, she held out the bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

Shirley took a swig of the medicine, then closed her eyes. “I don’t understand why your mother couldn’t visit you in St. Louis.”

“Because unlike us, she works.” Katelyn drove away from the store.

“You should have ordered the turkey sandwich. I think I lost ten pounds in that bathroom.”

Not even Montezuma’s revenge could curb Shirley’s sharp tongue. “We’re stopping for the night in Stroud. It’s right up the road.” Fifteen minutes later she spotted a sign in the shape of a giant pink poodle.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Shirley said when Katelyn parked in front of the motel office.

“It’ll be fine for one night. Besides, you’re in no shape to travel.”

“It probably has—”

“I’ll check for bedbugs when we get in the room.” Katelyn unbuckled her belt.

Shirley pressed her hand to her stomach and leaned forward in the seat. “Hurry.”

Inside the office a kaleidoscope of pink hues greeted Katelyn. A woman wearing bright pink lipstick, which matched her pink blouse, glanced up from a magazine and smiled. “Welcome to the—”

“I need a room fast. My mother-in-law is ill.”

The woman punched a code into a small machine on the counter, slid the key card through and then handed it to Katelyn. “Room three.”

“I’ll be right back.” Katelyn hurried outside, where Shirley leaned against the hood of the car. “Our room is right here.” She swiped the card and then opened the door and flipped on the lights. Shirley raced into the bathroom and Katelyn closed the door, giving her some privacy.

“Is your mother-in-law going to be all right?” the pink lady asked when Katelyn returned to the office.

“We ate at Earl’s and something didn’t agree with her.”

The woman grimaced. “A junkyard dog wouldn’t eat at that place.”

“Don’t tell my mother-in-law that.”

“Name’s Raquel.” She came out from behind the counter, exposing her pink-and-gray poodle skirt—circa 1956.

“Nice to meet you, Raquel. I’m Katelyn. My mother-in-law’s name is Shirley.”

“Where are you ladies headed?”

“Little Springs, Texas.”

“Never heard of the place. You grow up there?”

“I sure did. I live in St. Louis now.”

“I’m not a fan of big cities. I spent some time in Fayetteville, Arkansas, years ago, and the traffic drove me nuts.”

“I doubt you have much traffic in Stroud.”

“Fourth of July is pretty hectic here, but that’s about it.” Raquel wagged her finger at a table next to the door. “Be sure to sign the guest book before you leave. I take all credit cards except American Express.” Raquel returned behind the counter and tapped the computer keyboard.

Katelyn scrawled her signature in the guest book using the pink poodle pen, then handed Raquel her Visa card. “Your motel would look right at home on the Las Vegas Strip.” The outside of the single-story brick structure had been painted pearlescent pink and the doors magenta. The place screamed Girls only—boys keep out.

Raquel smiled. “The computer takes a few minutes to warm up.”

“Not a problem.” Katelyn examined the collection of ceramic poodles in a display case until a tinkling sound caught her attention. A live standard poodle pranced into the room, wearing a rhinestone collar and a pink tutu. “Aren’t you the cutest thing?”

“That’s Princess.”

Katelyn held out her hand and the poodle lifted her paw for a doggie handshake. “The pink nails are a nice touch.”

“She’s the motel mascot, so her upkeep is a tax write-off. I spend more money on her pedicures and wardrobe than I do on my own.”

“How much for the room?”

“One ten.” Raquel printed off a receipt, then returned Katelyn’s credit card. “There’s a Jacuzzi out back for guests.”

“We’ll be staying inside for the night.”

“If you need anything after hours, I’m in room one.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope your mother-in-law feels better soon.”

“Me, too.” Katelyn carried the overnight bags and Shirley’s purse into room 3, then returned to the car for the soda, crackers and Pepto-Bismol. After locking the door, she slipped out of her sandals and propped herself up against the pink velvet headboard behind the bed nearest the window. She grabbed the TV remote and a second later her phone chimed with a text message. Don.

Why isn’t my mother answering her cell phone?

Not caring to go into detail about their dining adventure, Katelyn fibbed. She went to bed early.

Is she ill?

Upset stomach

Tell her I hope she feels better soon.

Katelyn didn’t answer.

There’s an offer on the house.

Already? Who’s interested?

Weren’t you there when the couple came through at one o’ clock?

Busted. Your mother and I left town.

Katelyn’s phone rang. “Yes?”

“Where are you?” Don asked.

“Stroud, Oklahoma. We checked into a motel for the night.”

“Why is my mother with you?”

“The apartment you leased for her won’t be ready until the middle of July or later.”

“What are you talking about? I had everything arranged.”

“She’s not happy with the flooring and the countertops you picked. They’re installing hardwoods and marble.”

“Unbelievable.”

No kidding. The past few days seemed surreal.

“You didn’t think to contact me before she made the changes?”

“Why would I do that? Shirley’s your mother, not mine.” Katelyn flashed her middle finger at the phone. “Besides, I didn’t even know she’d called the manager.”

“Where are you traveling to?”

“Little Springs.”

“Why is my mother going with you?”

“What was I supposed to do with her? Leave her alone in the house and ask the neighbor to come over fifty times a day to see if she left the gas range on?”

“Couldn’t you have waited to visit Birdie until I returned to town?”

“No, Don, I couldn’t. I’m tired of arranging my life around your schedule. I’ve been doing it for three years while you’ve been off screwing whatever her name is.”

“If you don’t want my mother with you, put her on a bus back to St. Louis.”

“Will you be there to pick her up at the station?”

Silence. Of course he wouldn’t be.

“I didn’t call to argue with you.”

Maybe that had been the reason for the lack of passion in their marriage—aside from a few differences of opinion, they’d never fought.

“I admit the timing could have been better,” he said.

Dumbass. “Is there a right time to tell your spouse you cheated on her?”

“You can’t be that surprised, Katelyn. We’ve both changed. We’re not the same people we were in college.”

Obviously he no longer cared for the person she’d become—whoever that was.

“Does she have a name?”

“Lauren and I met through an acquaintance.”

She heard the toilet flush. Shirley would be out of the bathroom any second. “The kids will want to know about Lauren . . . unless you intend to walk out on our children the way you did to me and your mother.”

“I’m not walking out on the kids.”

Relief filled Katelyn. She didn’t want the twins feeling as if their father had rejected them, too. “When will you be back in St. Louis so I can hand Shirley off to you?”

“I don’t know. Some problems have come up with one of our accounts and I may have to return to Japan after I leave Singapore next week.”

“She’s your responsibility, Don. You can divorce me, but you can’t divorce your mom.”

“I’ll compensate you for the inconvenience.”

Katelyn gave the phone the bird again. Don didn’t have enough money to offset the misery his mother inflicted on a person. “Since we have an offer on the house,” she said, “you should tell the kids about the divorce sooner rather than later before their friends ask questions.”

“I said I’d take care of it. Have my mother phone me when she has a chance.”

Katelyn ended the call before she sprained her middle finger.