Page 47 of The Hitchhikers
Simon gave a scoffing laugh. One that Jenny had never heard before.
“Lady, you have no idea.”
In the morning, Alice made coffee and porridge, while Simon pulled out the pillowcases and showed Jenny everything he’d stolen. She was amazed at how much he’d managed to grab. She helped him count the cash into tidy stacks. She knew it wasn’t right, but it was hard not being excited when she saw all that money—money that was going to help them start a new life.
Simon separated the cash out. Some in his wallet. Some in her purse. Some in his backpack. Some in hers. Everything else stayed in the pillowcases, which he stowed again.
When they were finished eating, they took turns washing up. Jenny wished she could have a shower—her hair felt lank and dirty—but they were conserving water. She brushed it back into a high ponytail. When she stared in the mirror, she looked familiar. Like the girl who used to wear her hair slicked into a bun so tight she would get headaches. Jenny didn’t want to see that girl ever again. She tugged her hair free of the ponytail and shook it out.
They reached Kimberley a short while later. Jenny looked around in confusion. The town looked like photos she’d seen of Europe inNational Geographicmagazines. The mountains that surrounded the town were so crisp against the clear blue sky they didn’t look real. The streets were lined with white, cream, or green stucco buildings, decorated with dark wood trim, and painted shutters like on gingerbread houses. Most of them had balconies with overflowing flower boxes. The store signs had fancy lettering, some offering pretzels, schnitzel, or beer.
“What the hell isschnitzel?” Simon said.
“Meat pounded flat, then breaded and fried,” Alice said. “It’s German.”
“This town is weird,” Simon said.
The downtown center was closed to traffic, so they had to drive around until they found a grocery store. That building was low and wide, modern, with an orange metal roof and an all-glass front that reflected the RV as they drove past. They parked under a tree behind the store.
Alice made a list of groceries, then Jenny changed into one of her sun dresses that wasn’t too wrinkled, picked up her purse, and walked to the store’s front entrance.
She found a shopping cart and wrapped her palms around the metal handle, grateful for something to lean on. She was even more grateful for the store’s air-conditioning after crossing the hot pavement in her sandals. She heard male voices and glanced at the corner of the store, where there was a small coffee shop with a glass display of pastries. A few men sat around a table, talking and drinking coffee. One of them was reading a newspaper.
Jenny immediately looked away and pushed the cart down an aisle. What if her photo was in that paper? Maybe she should walk out. She reached up to touch her hair. No. She looked different. She was just a girl out shopping. Those men would never think she was a criminal.
She unfolded the shopping list. Barbecue sauce. She was already in the condiment section. She studied the array of sauces, relishes, ketchups, and marinades. Alice hadn’t said anything about flavors. Jenny picked out a bottle of Kraft.
She rolled around the corner and stopped so fast the bottle toppled over in her cart. She made no move to fix it. She was frozen, staring at the couple in an embrace halfway down the aisle. Her mother. Her mother was in the store and kissing a dark-haired man. Robert.
Jenny blinked. Blinked again. They were still there. Ghosts. She was seeing ghosts. Had she lost her mind? She had to get out of there, but her feet had turned to concrete blocks.
The woman’s hands were in the man’s hair. His hands were on her buttocks. Roving. The woman giggled and pulled away. Now Jenny could see her face. Not her mother after all. Similar in blond hair and shape, but this woman was shorter, with a longer nose and thinner lips.
The man was in a suit. Not as stylish as Robert, not as tidy. His hair was floppy, his face shiny, and his chin round—not square. The woman straightened his tie and smoothed his lapel.
Unwanted memories. All the men her mom would bring home, kissing at the doorway or on the couch. Her mother fussing over Robert when he was leaving the house, when he was going to a reading. When another woman was around. Or even if Jenny was in the room. Her mother would lean into him, pressing her breasts against his arm, and open-mouth kiss him, laughing when Jen fled the room. Like it was all a funny game. Worst of all, the noises they’d make in their room down the hall so that Jenny needed a pillow over her ears.
The woman turned. Her eyes widened when she first saw Jenny in the aisle, but then the corner of her lip curled. As if Jenny was the gross one. The woman said something to the man.
Now he was staring at her too.
Jenny wheeled away. The store that had seemed so refreshing before now seemed ice cold. The hair on her arms stood up. She swallowed hard.
She made it through the list, grabbing the items Alice had written down, and whatever else caught her attention. She had no idea how much it would cost. She felt woozy, her stomach turning like she might be sick. Was the baby moving? Was it supposed to feel like that?
Jenny fanned her face as she went through the checkout. The cashier was young, maybe the same age as Jenny, but with long reddish hair and freckles that ran across her nose and down herarms, and a cheerful singsong voice as she chatted about the heat.
“Are you visiting?”
Jenny stared at her, wondering what the question meant.
“You’re not from here. I know everyone who lives in town.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re driving through.”
“Have you seen our cuckoo clock yet? It’s the tallest in the world.”
Jenny shook her head.
