The Miles Between

As if I don’t know. I hear the whispers. I notice. Everyone has always talked about it a little. Except me. Except for today, when I have shared a secret that they have all been curious about. Yes, my parents have left me to my own devices. Yes, they have provided for my care, my education, but not given me what I really need. Their time. Their interest. Their presence. I have worked for years to make it all their fault and not mine but have never won myself over, and now in a brief moment of sharing, I have won three over. Maybe they can convince me. Maybe I could believe it is not my fault. Maybe on a day like today, anything is possible.

“But, Des, if today we did run right smack into them, well, on this day, I would know it wasn’t a coincidence, and I’d give them a piece of my mind.”

Why has Mira taken up my cause? Why has she always taken up my cause? I’ve never understood that about her. Maybe because I’ve never tried. Observing and understanding are two different things. One is amusing; the other, risky. I don’t even care to understand myself. It’s always served me well. But like Mira, I too would give my parents a piece of my mind, that is, if I could. I would scream and yell and rant and shame them, and when I was done, I would beg for forgiveness so that everything could go back to the way it was before. But maybe that is asking too much of any one day.

“Thank you, Des,” Mira says softly.

“Thank you?”

“For playing the game. It makes us all a team. We’re in this together, no matter what happens. Don’t you think?”

Is this the part where she expects us to all raise our hands and clink swords? How does she put these thoughts together? I sigh. Mira wears her heart firmly on her sleeve, and sometimes her grip on reality seems to be more tenuous than mine. But I suppose if she can take up my cause with such passion, I can take up hers with small effort. I raise my hand upward toward the center of the car, and three hands meet it, and Mira squeals with delight, “Watch out, Langdon. Here we come!”

Watch out. Indeed.

20

WELCOME TO LANGDON, POP. 34,019.

“Wowee.”

Mira looks up at the skyline. You could almost call the buildings genuine skyscrapers. A cluster of modern high-rises in the downtown area that are eight, ten, twelve stories high are wedged between the older storefronts of Langdon, a main street on the cusp of change. A jackhammer rattles somewhere on the edge of the parking lot where we stand, grating evidence of a town that is eager to move forward.

Nothing is familiar, and I am surprised at the relief that brings. The jackhammer rests, and the other city sounds take its place, medium city sounds because Langdon is only flirting with being a big city. Cars, a horn, the whir of a woman pedaling by on a bicycle, a truck rumbling to a stop, friends greeting each other in front of a café, a man with a white apron sweeping a gutter, a chocolate-colored dog hanging out the window of a passing car, barking. At us!

I look at Seth. “Lucky has an admirer. Did you bring his leash?”

He nods. “You think he’ll wear it? I mean, he’s not a dog, you know.”

“Shhh,” I tell him. “Why put doubts in Lucky’s head? Life is hard enough when you don’t fit in with everyone else. Let’s put it on.”

Seth sets him between us on the sidewalk, and Lucky strains to get going while I adjust the collar and hook the leash.

“Come on, Lucky,” Seth says. “Make us proud.”

The sidewalk is wide, so we walk four abreast, Mira and I in the middle, Seth and Aidan on either side of us, and all of us following behind Lucky. He takes to his leash like a veteran at Westminster, and I think of the nursery rhyme and the lamb that followed Mary everywhere, except that we are following Lucky. I notice that Mira and Aidan somehow manage to end up side by side without any discussion of who will walk where and without awkward maneuvering to make it happen. It is almost like they are experienced at this. And of course that leaves Seth and me to walk side by side, and I am definitely not experienced at anything other than walking alone. I feel the irritation of his arm bumping mine whenever Lucky veers to one side.

We pass older storefronts, a dry cleaner’s, a real estate office, a notary public, and a fabric store wedged between newer buildings, the anonymous shiny-glass types. I almost wonder if I only imagined that I once lived in Langdon because it is all so unfamiliar.

A breeze stirs, whisks around my ankles, the gauzy uneven hem of my new skirt flapping. For a moment the sunlight changes, freezes time, like I could almost run backward and start the day over again, or maybe my whole life. Would I? Somewhere else besides Langdon? Someplace where I know every avenue, a place where my initials are carved in a tree, a place where I have more memories than a scant few years, a place where someone remembers me and wants me to stay? But just as quickly, the sun is bright again and movement resumes, Seth, Mira, and Aidan none the wiser.

“Look who’s coming,” Mira says between gritted teeth and a smile.

I hear Aidan draw in his breath. “He swaggers just like Constable Horn.”

“There couldn’t be two of him, could there?” Seth whispers.

A portly man walks down the middle of the sidewalk toward us, tipping his hat back as he gets closer. As he nears, I can see that his uniform is quite similar to Constable Horn’s, and I fear our day in Langdon is over before it begins.

“What do we do?” Aidan whispers.

“Shhh! Act natural.”

“Good morning, Constable,” I say.

He looks at his watch, like he is trying to decide if it is still morning. “Deputy, miss,” he clarifies. “Deputy Barnes.” He points at Lucky with a stick that is a dangling extension of his arm. “You can’t be walking livestock down a city street.”

“Livestock? Oh, you mean him?” Seth says. “This is my dog, Lucky. A lot of people make that mistake. But he’s a lambadoodle. A new breed.”