All the Ugly and Wonderful Things(106)

I’d been wrong about the Earth’s rotation slowing. It went on as steadily as always, and the afternoon was long gone. To the west, Venus and Jupiter held court with the setting sun. A few days before, the Magellan spacecraft had reached Venus, and started sending back pictures. Below the horizon lay Orion, resting until autumn, when he would rise over the meadow with only the cows to see him.

I thought then of Voyager 1 and 2, so far away. They were launched the same year I met Kellen, and now they had reached the end of our solar system. Although their programs were being powered down one by one, they traveled on. NASA said that in another twenty-five years, they would exit our heliosphere and cross into interstellar space. In another three hundred thousand years, Voyager 2 might reach as far as the star Sirius, but it would never come home.

That was how I felt, as I walked down the driveway to my car. I was moving forward into space, but I would never come home again.

Hours later, walking up the stairs to the apartment, I still felt like a satellite untethered from gravity. Above me, Renee opened our apartment door.

“Wavy! Oh my god, where have you been?” she shouted.

When I reached her, she was a star, pulling me into her orbit.

“Judge Maber called. She said, ‘Tell Miss Quinn that she was right. She is just as real as I am.’”





18

KELLEN

September 1990

Beth could nag at me all she wanted about my cholesterol, but I went back to eating bacon and eggs and pancakes with real butter like Wavy used to cook. That’s what I had for breakfast before my weekly meeting with my parole officer. Beth was at the counter packing her lunch while I ate, but she kept looking over her shoulder at me. Made me real self-conscious.

“What?” I said.

“Did you see the mail yesterday?” she said.

“No.” I figured somebody had stuck another flier about me in the mailbox. People still did that, even though I was careful. I never talked to kids, not for nothing. Far as I was concerned, kids didn’t exist. Which left me feeling like shit any time I saw some kid’s busted down bike. I coulda fixed it, but people mighta thought the wrong thing.

Beth pitched a letter on the table in front of me. The only mail I ever got was official stuff from the Department of Corrections, only this one wasn’t. It’d been years since I got a letter in that handwriting, but I knew it from back when Wavy used to send me Christmas cards from her aunt’s house.

“I won’t tell you again,” Beth said. “If you break your parole, you can’t live here.”

She went back to fixing her lunch, and I tried to finish my breakfast, but that letter had thrown me for a loop.

First, it meant Wavy knew I was living with Beth again. All she had to do was call the Department of Corrections and they’d give her my current address off the sex offender registry. I had to figure she thought the worst of me, because what else was she gonna think? I’d made her keep the ring, and went back to living with Beth, like the ring didn’t mean a thing to me.

Second, it meant Wavy had something to say to me, but what?

“Are you going to open it or read it through the envelope?” Beth said. It was the same voice she used to say all the mean things she said when I came back.

“Neither. Just throw it away. That’s what you were gonna do anyway, isn’t it?”

She didn’t hardly wait for me to get the words out of my mouth before she picked it up and tossed it in the trash can. After that I couldn’t get the food down my throat, and it was time to go. When I went to scrape my plate off into the trash, there was the letter staring up at me. I dumped what was left of my breakfast in on top of it.

My parole officer was a good guy, but busy, so I was usually in and out in under ten minutes. It started out like all the other meetings. How are you doing? How’s work? Having any troubles? Then all the sudden, he said, “Have you been in contact with Wavonna Quinn?”

“No. Hell, no.” First outright lie I ever told him. I broke out in a cold sweat and I couldn’t figure which made me seem guiltier: looking him in the eye or looking away. I gave him a good long stare and said, “No way. Why would you think that?”

“Just curious,” he said. Just curious, my ass. I thought about that letter and about how Beth was still pissed off at me. Made me wonder if she hadn’t called him. He didn’t push me on the subject, and two minutes later I was out of there.

I shoulda gone to work, but I didn’t.

I drove home, went into the apartment, and first thing, yanked the lid off the trash can. Inside was a new trash bag. It was my job to take the trash out, but Beth had done it, just so she could throw Wavy’s letter away.

That’s how I ended up in the garbage Dumpster, sifting through bags of trash. The day was warming up and that Dumpster stank like hell. I musta opened a dozen bags before I found Wavy’s letter, sticky with syrup. I crawled out of the Dumpster and sat down on the curb next to it. My stomach was right up under my throat, when I opened the envelope.

Dear Kellen,



I thought you would come to me after you got the letter from the court, but you didn’t. I can imagine a thousand reasons you wouldn’t come and only one reason you would, but I hoped that reason would be enough. I won’t bother you again. I’m only writing because I have something I need to return to you. Because of its size, it would be best if you could come get it. Will you meet me at my aunt’s house over Labor Day weekend? Sunday at 4? If you prefer not to see me, you can come after 5 pm. I’ll be gone by then.