Runaway

The cold wind and grey sky seemed to be pictures from a dream; the wind twirling around my hair like some twisted tornado and the sky like a painted scene from a movie set, like it was not real at all.  It all felt fake.  Running away felt fake.  My bright red boots walked faster.  They were fire truck red, standing out like a beacon in the sky and neighborhood of grey.  I did not need Von to see me.  I imagined him running after me, tripping over his own large feet, his skinny stick like arms and legs pumping, and the floppy wig of black curls over his eyes.  Sort of goofy, but sort of crazy, too.  He would be wearing his large grin and promise that I was home.  That his place was my home.  No.  That was not my home.  I was going to see my mom and my dad and brother and Von wasn’t part of it.  



The neighborhood’s rows of mundane, identical houses were never ending.  I kept looking behind me, scared that Von would jump up behind me.  I wondered what he would say.  “Hey, where are you going? Don’t you want to come home? We can go in the backyard and play tag.  Or we could walk to the park with a ketchup sandwich and play in the rain, if you don’t want to go straight home.  What do you say? Want to come?”



“No!” I said aloud, but there was no Von to answer.  My own lonely voice echoed around me and I felt my stomach rumble.  That was so loud I thought it might have echoed too.  I hadn’t thought to bring any ketchup sandwiches, which Von would have surely remembered on a trip to the park.  Or on a trip home.  I smelled the smoke of a barbecue from one of the houses, smelling far away and enticing.  I walked in the direction of where I thought the smell was coming from.

The sound of my boots hitting the asphalt road filled my ears.  I wanted to go home.  But I was regretting running away.  I had gone away with no plan and no food.  Even if I got away from Von, how was I going to find Mom and Dad and Oliver? I didn’t even know where they lived now.  I didn’t know if they would still be at 56th Street or if their house “would just be another old house in the neighborhood, with a happy family that had moved in and bought and lived in there for years,” as Von always told me.



I walked faster, the sound of loud clomping boots drowning out all my doubting thoughts.  I would find them.  They hadn’t moved away yet.  After all, I hadn’t been gone for long, had I? Only a few weeks; maybe five (it was hard to keep track of time I’d spent with Von.  The days seemed to blur together and he didn’t have a single clock or calendar in the house).  I would find them just around the corner and they would be waiting for me.  Mom would have made a fresh batch of brownies and Dad would be typing away at his computer but come out of his home office when he sees me and Oliver in the backyard, climbing the plum tree.  Maybe Dad was making barbecue chicken right now with Oliver.  Maybe the smell was coming from my house.



I got into a run, not breathing and filled with joy, joy! I would see Mom and she would be waiting for me at the door with a piece of barbecue chicken for me.  I followed the street signs.  Mom and Dad and Oliver lived on 56th street, and that was where the smell was coming from.  I felt the hope rising up in me and it wasn’t hope, actually.  It was more than that.  It was absolute, blissful belief.  I would see them.



I stopped running and stood before the third house next to the stop sign.  The smell was coming from this house.  I could see the smoke coming from behind the backyard fence.  Not only that, but it was how I remembered it exactly.  There was the fish pond in the front yard, the light on in the work office upstairs, and the branches of the plum tree hanging over the white fence.  The only difference was that the flowers were more neatly trimmed and the house and fence were both newly painted white.  A sign was stuck in my house’s lawn;



Sycamore Family

56th street N  



Sycamore.  Valley Sycamore.  That was my name.  Not Val Von, the name Von insisted was mine. My heart leaped.  I was finally home.



There was a guy standing in the driveway.  His back was facing me, but I could tell he was skinny and pale, with a black curly mop of hair.  His stick like arms stuck out the sleeves of his white tee shirt and the blue jeans hung loose.  Oliver? He looked so much older. Could this person really be my little brother, who when I had left, was just shy of nine? This guy looked around seventeen.  Could I have really been gone that long? Though it was hard to tell – Von didn’t have any mirrors in his house and he never let me draw back the drawn curtains over the windows, so I’d never seen my reflection once.  I didn’t even know how much older I looked.



The teen turned around.  It had to be Oliver.  This was my house, and it would only make sense if Oliver were here.  I rushed toward him and hugged him, burying my head into his chest. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long and I wish I could have come back earlier! How long have I – did you miss me – I’m just so glad I’m home and you’re here!” The words came out in a rush.  I looked up at him with my arms still wrapped round his middle.  He looked down at me.



“Val,” he said, “I knew you’d come back.” He was grinning, but I couldn’t see his eyes.  They were covered by his floppy wig of black curls.  He suddenly seemed very familiar, and not in the way that I would like.



I pushed away from Von.  “Where’s Oliver?” I asked.  “Where’s Mom and where’s Dad? Why are you here?”



“I’ve been waiting for you.”  



“I want to go home.”



“This is your home, see? There’s the fish pond and the plum tree and the little flower garden.  I bought it for you years ago so we’re just living in another old house in the neighborhood.  We’re a happy family that has moved in and bought and lived in here for years.  And I have some barbecued chicken for you.” Von held out a plate of the browned, seasoned, mouth-watering chicken in front of me.



My eyes started to water and I got that feeling in my nose that I get when it’s going to start running because I’m going to start crying.  Yes, there was my house, but where was my family? I’d come all this way and only found Von.  I shakily reached out for a piece of chicken, feeling helpless and pathetic, but I was starving.  I ate the chicken, which my tears ruined by sliding onto and coating with the taste of salt.  Von was staring intensely into my eyes.  I wanted him to stop staring.  I wanted him to look away.  I didn’t want Von to see me crying.  Mom always said that staring was rude.  I couldn’t stop crying.  Then I tried to cry softly because I was still scared but I kept gasping.



In a sudden movement, Von reached out and hugged me.  His nose was pressed into my hair.  “Hey, stop crying, Val.” His voice was soft and gentle.  “I don’t want to see a little girl cry.  Shh.  Here, let’s go to the park, okay? We’ll have ketchup sandwiches and play in the rain.  And have another piece of chicken, if you want.” He held out the plate of chicken for me and I took it.  I calmed down a little and stopped breathing with gasps.  He led me to the white fence and stopped to fiddle with the latch.  I took a bite of chicken.  It was good but tasted a little like poppy seed, which made me remember that everything Von made tasted a little like poppy seed.  Even his ketchup sandwiches.  I took a shaky breath.  I had stopped crying and felt a little better.  What was so bad about Von? He was nice.  He could be my family.



Von opened the gate in the fence for me.  I walked into the backyard.  He closed the gate behind me and holding my hand, walked me to the center of the yard.  I sat down in the grass and he sat down next to me.  He lay down on his back, so I did too.  I reached out for another piece of chicken but realized the plate was empty and that the sun was setting, turning the clouds purple.  How had it all gone so fast? It was hard to keep track of time I’d spent with Von.  The chicken settled in my stomach comfortably, making me feel sleepy.



“Do you like the park, Val?” Von asked.



“Yeah.  I like the park’s plum tree, too.  And it has a nice white little fence.” The sleepy feeling was covering me like a blanket.  Something kept nagging at the back of my mind, but my sleepy mind couldn’t figure it out.



“If you stay here with me, we would be together forever.  You’d be mine forever and we could go to the park tomorrow and play in the rain.  You could have more chicken and I’d make some ketchup sandwiches for you.”



Something still felt wrong.  Something was missing.  I felt like I’d forgotten to do something, or maybe forgotten about somebody.  Hadn’t I been “mine forever” to some other people before? But no, that wasn’t right.  I had been living with Von forever.  He’d said so.  And as long as I could keep going to the park with him and hold his hand, it would stay that way.    



Von turned his head to smile at me.  For the first time, I could see his eyes because his hair had fallen back.  They were yellow with a strange ring of green.  He was in one hand fiddling with a little acid green bottle.  I strained to read the small label, even though I just wanted to lie my head down in the grass and sleep.  I had a feeling it might be important, though I didn’t know why.



Perozyphoxide                                                                                To be taken internally.



Active Ingredient...........................................Alcohol

Inactive Ingredient(s)...................................Poppy seed

Use......................................................................To create a calming effect on the patient

Side Effects.......................................................Forgetting recent events, drowsiness, confusion



I was sleepy.  My eyelids felt heavy and I was so tired I didn’t think I would be able to make sense of the label even if I wasn’t sleepy.  I closed my eyes and dreamt of nothing.