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A Doll's Odyssey
Part
Three
XV. Yet again at Cally's apartment and environs
XV. Yet again at Cally's apartment and environs
August 22, 1999, Columbus, Ohio
For some reason, her pulse raced at the prospect of driving a hot car on a sunny day, top down, the sun and wind playing a sensual duet of hot and cold in her hair and on her face and body. When the Z3's engine rumbled to life, revved with a defiant dance on the gas pedal, then settling down into a leonine purr, Dolly suddenly felt all of her misery and doubt slough away like a molted skin.
As she slid the BMW out of its parking space and, waving to Callisto, headed to an exit she took an opportunity to glance over at Junior. The boy had solemnly buckled himself in, checking the tension of the belts and the placement of the 3-point restraint across his body with utmost care.
"OK, Junior. You're the navigator. You tell me; what's the best way to go? I want to just go around this block, but I also want to take a street where I can wind it out a little."
"Turn right. But you knew that, 'cause the sign says 'One Way'."
"That's right. Very good. Then we follow the bend up ahead and we'll be going north." They did. "And then do I turn right at the light? Oh, no, I can't. It's one way going West. Do you know your compass directions?"
"Columbus directions?"
"No," Dolly corrected with a warm smile carrying no hint of derision. "Compass." She reached out and tapped the spirit compass mounted below the rearview mirror on the windshield. "It always tells you which way is north. When you know that, then you know the other directions. Right now we're going north by northwest. See the writing on the little ball? Careful. It can break easy!"
"Sorry."
"No problem. Just... better not touch it."
"OK. I won't touch the Columbus."
"Compass," she said again, fighting the urge to laugh. I wonder if you can ever know just how funny and appropriate that is, she thought.
"Cumm passss," he said, enunciating each phoneme with exaggerated care.
"Very good, Junior! So, do you know your compass directions? North, south, east, west?"
He nodded vigorously. "I sure do." He demonstrated by pointing. "North. South. East. West." His excitement at demonstrating his knowledge was palpable.
"Excellent, Junior! You're a smart guy! I like smart guys!"
He turned away then. Dolly heard a sound come out of his throat and instantly pulled into the curb in a No Parking zone and put the car in Neutral, setting the brake and leaving the engine running. She leaned over and touched the boy's shoulder tenderly.
"Are you OK, Junior?" She felt so helpless in the face of his fragility and instability, but also felt that--somehow--it would be worth the effort for her to try to help him out.
He just nodded and sniffed a little.
"Can you tell me which way I have to turn at the next light? Or do you just want to sit for a while?"
He sniffed again and then turned to face her, bravely. "You can't stay here. The cops'll come along and make you move or give you a ticket."
"You're right, Junior," she said, feeling her way carefully. "But I think what you're feeling right now is more important than that. Besides, I can afford to pay the ticket."
His face lit up as though his emotional sun had come out from behind a cloud. He leaned over--awkwardly fighting the restraint of the shoulder harness, and gave Dolly a hug.
"Thank you, Gabrielle," he said. Then he pulled away, embarrassed. He looked at her sidelong, transparently trying to gauge her reaction.
"You are quite welcome, Junior."
"You aren't mad 'cause I hugged you?"
"No, not at all. You were very polite about it. I wish all the guys who wanted to hug me were so polite about it."
"I bet you have lots of guys who want to hug you."
"Thanks!" she blushed and giggled a little. Then: "Yeah," she sighed. "I do. But I'm kinda lucky, 'cause my boyfriend is rich and important and he doesn't let people mess with me." In fact, he killed the last one who tried: just cut his head clean off.
"Wow! He must love you an awful lot."
Then it was Dolly's turn to get misty-eyed. "Yeah," she said wistfully, then had to clear her throat. "Yeah, he does."
"We better get moving."
"Sure enough," Dolly agreed, wiping tears from her eyes with quick strokes of her fingers and giving a ladylike sniff. "Let's get moving! Which way at the next light?"
"Right again. We go right all the way around the block. But it's two blocks, really. You just can't go on MacArthur 'cause it's one-way the wrong way." Dolly maneuvered the Z3 around the corner as instructed and saw a broad industrial boulevard about a mile and a half long. It appeared that the other end flowed river-like onto a series of highways that bled traffic off in a dozen different directions and that there was no connection back to the housing project.
"Are we gonna be able to get back to your street this way?"
"Yeah," said Junior, grinning. "I know a shortcut."
"No mudslides," she warned.
"No mudslides," he assured her. "This car is too fancy to go in mud, huh?"
"That's exactly the word. Fancy. And watch this!" She floored it and within a short run up the gears they were flying down the road. She glanced over at the boy. He was sitting rigidly in the seat, hand clutching the slow-down bar. He was tall enough that the wind over the top of the windshield hit him in the face, albeit with diminished force. "You OK?" she asked.
He turned to face her. Plastered across his face was just the biggest grin. "Yeah!" he shouted. "Won't you get a ticket?"
"Not if they don't catch me."
"Well, you better slow down so they don't."
"You're right. But we're out of road anyway." She downshifted and engine-braked until the roadster was moving under the speed limit. "Better?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "Thanks for doin' that."
"Anytime," she grinned at him in return.
"Turn down this street. It takes you to the beginning of MacArthur. We can get into our building's parking lot from there."
Without Junior's assurance, she would never have turned down the street. It looked like it was a dead-end, a concrete box canyon shadowed by hundred-foot-high industrial walls. But there were the signs of a tee intersection down there, so she thought she'd be able to get through. The sound of the BMW's exhaust rumbled back at them, reflected off the walls of the surrounding factories. Four lanes wide, the street and the sidewalks were scale models by comparison with the towering structures on either side. Ahead, there was the barest glimpse of clear sky over a mere five-story building that appeared to block the end of the street.
They reached the intersection. To the left, the cross street turned a corner at ninety degrees and was blocked off with a length of guard rail on foot-thick wooden posts that had been pounded directly into the pavement. To the right, the street dead-ended in a parking lot. Dolly could see in the gap between buildings what appeared to be a street lined by the projects on one side and an industrial complex on the other. The industrial complex the middle of which she sat with the engine of her Z3 turning over quietly.
"Over there?" she asked Junior with a glance in his direction. He just nodded. She turned the wheel and, slipping the clutch, gave the engine gas. They rolled slowly up a short ramp and onto a smooth blacktopped lot. She angled the nose of the car across the lot to a gap between two buildings. There she turned into a narrow defile, barely twice the width of the car. Around another corner. Now the parking lot they had first entered was behind them and they were facing another one that fronted on MacArthur Boulevard.
Except for the chain that blocked the way, padlocked to heavy steel posts set in concrete.
"Damn!" Dolly swore. She threw the gearbox into Reverse and half turned in her seat to look behind--
At the three tough-looking characters carrying wrecking bars who came around the corner behind them and spread out to block the way.
"Uh-oh," said Junior.
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