Page 10 of And Still Her Voice
My hands tingled and the hair on my arms went into shock.Who’s Colonel Scott?
Charlie opened his mouth like a bottom-feeding flounder before turning white as cod. “How’d you know about the Colonel? How’d you know my father’s name?”
Just as surprised, I covered my face with my hands and shook my head. There’s no way I could have known about his father, much less his name, but apparently Grandma did. I looked around at the curious faces staring at me as the words dumped out of my mouth. “Oh, darling, I know lots of dead people.”
“What the fuck!?” Charlie yelled.
What the fuck!?I held up my guitar to shield myself from what might come.
“What else? How do you know about my old man?”
“Nothing else, honestly.”
Charlie cocked his head, peering at me as he leaned in. I thought he’d try and shake information out of me, like I was a box of Cracker Jacks or something.
“What kind of freak show did you run away from?” he asked.
Grandma spoke up in a mauve-colored voice. “We’re a little tired right now. Perhaps, we can schedule a little tête-à-tête another time.”
“We?” Charlie backed off, slowly, looking at us sideways. “You got a mouse in your pocket?”
I snapped my eyes closed.Grandma, shut up.
Things got quiet. He returned to his singing and strumming.Pretty, pretty girl.
***
It’s sure taking an eternity to get to Griffith Park. I rested my head on my knees, imagining Grandma and I had freaked Charlie out when we talked about his father, and that was why he left us alone to work on his tunes which caused Grandma to tune out for the next several miles so I got some time to myself to try and figure out my next move. I worried about my family. I’d miss helping Michael get ready for his First Holy Communion ceremony. I’d told him not to be scared and that it was no big deal, that I’d be right there if he got too nervous. And then, I cast my mind back to my own special day, remembering how sad I was that Dad, too hungover, wasn’t there for me. And now I wouldn’t be showing up for Michael.
But then the dam broke, tears soaking my maxi dress as I wondered if Dad was okay. Just because Grandma said he was fine didn’t make it so, unless she could see the future, but what about the past? Couldn’t she see the damage her husband, my grandfather, had caused everyone by transferring over, including and most especially, my dad? How many lives were lost or ruinedbecause of Grandpa’s selfish desire to live on through his own son so he could be with Grandma and also get revenge over his death. Couldn’t he simply wait for her to die and then join him wherever he ended up? And once you’re dead, do you really care about getting revenge? And now what about me?
“Grandma, how did you know about Manson’s father?”
“It’s just another of the gifts I was born with—the ability to send messages to loved ones from the other side. It’s one of the reasons I know your father is still alive. He hasn’t contacted me.”
I felt some relief, but still some skepticism.
“Why, people used to come to the house all the time and ask to talk to their mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, even their pets, but unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. It’s only a one-way street.”
“So, Colonel Scott wants to say something to his son?”
“He wants to warn him.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Oh, darling, I don’t know. Just because we die doesn’t mean we become clairvoyant. Had I been given the special gift of knowing the future, surely we wouldn’t be sitting in the back of this filthy motor wagon with this Wisenheimer.”
True. And had she known, maybe she wouldn’t have hijacked my body in the first place. I sensed danger up ahead and needed to find a way out through the doorway and not just the one at the back of my mind.
I got on my knees to peek out the small window and sensed a bigger storm brewing on the horizon.
***
After a while, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Besides not getting any sleep the night before, the fumes were getting to me and finally I drifted off. I dreamed I was dead and woke up in abus full of angels headed to heaven. Piercing through big fluffy clouds, a peaceful feeling came over me until a dark-haired man I believed was Jesus took the wheel and turned the bus around, headed to hell. Ready to scream, I heard, “Pit stop. Who’s got money?” Caroline asked.
Without thinking, I reached into my knee-sock to hand her most of what I had.
The side van door opened and everyone piled out. I noticed a payphone just beyond a gas pump outside a general store. I wanted to call home and ask about Dad, but then I felt a tug on my blouse and turned to see Charlie’s hand clutching it. Heart stopped, I looked up. “Take the crazy girl with you and get her something to eat,” he told the dark-haired girl. His eyes latched onto mine. “Although the closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat.”
