Wanderlove Part 2

Clutching my towel, I escaped the person in the mirror and headed downstairs. It was time to tell Miriam everything, whether I was prepared to or not.

THREE.

As I was meandering down the stairwell, I was caught off guard when I heard the sound of several unknown voices looming nearby. I paused for a moment. I hadn't been expecting anyone to be in the house except for my grandmother. Quietly, I peeked into the kitchen.

There were two young girls helping my grandmother cook dinner. The girls were very pretty; one had coppery hair and the other was an iridescent blonde. Both of them were tall and slender, modelesque in stature. The girls were laughing with Miriam over some joke that had been told. The scene was warm and loving. I suddenly felt like an intruder.

I decided to retreat, but one of the stairs creaked loudly beneath my feet, giving me away. Much to my horror, everyone's heads turned in my direction. It was around that moment when I abruptly remembered I was covered with nothing more than a towel.

"Lola," Miriam addressed me casually. "How nice to see you are recovering."

A blush crept into my cheeks.

"Dakota, could you please find Lola something to wear?"

The girls resembled each other. My instincts told me they were sisters. They looked almost exactly alike, with the exception of their hair. Apart from the color, the copper-headed girl had thick, wavy hair, while the blonde's tresses were smooth and polished. I figured the copper-headed one must be "Dakota" because she looked up when Miriam called her name.

"Of course," she replied, and motioned me to follow her. As I did so, I found myself wondering who these sisters were. Upon closer inspection, I noticed Dakota appeared to be near my own age, the other girl maybe a few years older.

Dakota never glanced back at me as I silently followed her, but she seemed to sense my confusion. "We're cousins," she informed me.

"Oh. I had no idea," I commented awkwardly.

I began to piece together my family tree. I realized she must be my Uncle Eli's daughter. I heard he'd had children, but I'd never had the chance to meet them. In the gypsy world, family was almost always on the father's side. One was raised with their father's people and traveled with their father's people. Only daughters would venture outside of their tribes, and that was only for the sake of marriage. Although a marriage outside of one's own tribe was a rarity in itself. So I couldn't help but speculate how these sisters ended up here with Miriam and not with their father.

"In here." Dakota directed me to a bedroom at the end of the hall.

The bedroom was extremely messy. Well, maybe not messy, but very cramped. There was a queen-sized bed, which had been shoved up against the wall in the corner of the room, and there was a twin-sized mattress on the floor next to it. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The dresser was entirely covered in jewelry, accessories, hairpins, makeup and other female bits and pieces. Dakota dug through the bottom drawer of the dresser.

"Do you want pink or black?" The girl held up two different cotton tunics to choose from.

"Black," I answered mindlessly. I was still looking around as she handed me the top along with a pair of lounge pants. "Do you and your sister share this room?" I asked.

"Yes. Well, for the time being."

"I feel awful," I said. "Did I take your room? Because I can sleep on the couch--"

"No, you've got it all wrong. I don't live here." Dakota grinned at my a.s.sumption. "I'll only be here for the rest of the weekend. I'm a student at the University of South Florida. I live in a dorm during the school year."

"Oh, I see."

I was slightly disappointed. I thought Dakota was younger. It would have been nice having someone close to my age around.

"Take these, too. You can borrow them until you're able to get to a store."

She held out a huge pile of a.s.sorted clothing for me to take.

"No-- I couldn't."

"I insist." She shoved the clothes in my arms before I had a chance to protest. "I would hate to see you forced to wear anything of Miriam's. I swear the woman has no shame. Besides," she motioned her arms outwards in gesture to the entirety of the room. "As you can probably see, I have plenty of clothes."

I slowly smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem." She beamed back at me. She seemed to be genuinely kind. And up close, I noticed her face was just as pretty as her s.h.i.+ny, coppery hair. She had sparkling green eyes and a smile that seemed like it was permanently etched across her face.

Dakota laid her palm down across my hand, which I'd been using to clutch the stack of clothes with. I eyed her curiously. She tensed her brow as if she were thinking very hard about something.

"You were with a traveling show. How exciting. Miriam didn't tell me you were a performer."

I stepped back, s.n.a.t.c.hing my hand away. So she could see things about people. . .I didn't want her to see anything else.

"I wasn't," I mentioned quietly. "Well, I know how to dance, but my father never let me perform."

"A shame," Dakota said. "You have the talent for it."

I shrugged uncomfortably.

"I'll let you get changed." Dakota excused herself politely, and quickly left the room.

I stood there for a moment, wondering what else Dakota had seen about me. I hoped it hadn't been much. If she saw things with her touch, then she couldn't have seen much. She'd only held my hand for a moment. The thought relieved me a little.

Once I was presentable, I headed back towards the kitchen where we ended up eating dinner. Miriam didn't like to use the dining room. Instead she preferred to use her ma.s.sively large island, which she surrounded with wooden barstools. It was less formal, and I supposed more comfortable.

I was introduced to the elder sister, Annika, who was a slightly older version of Dakota. I could tell that although the sisters resembled each other significantly in appearance, they seemed to differ vastly in personality. Just as Dakota had been outgoing and friendly, Annika was quiet and reserved. Yet they seemed equally kind.

Annika fawned over Miriam, coddling her as if she were a caretaker instead of her granddaughter. I discovered over the dinner conversation that Annika lived her with Miriam permanently and worked as a detective in the city.

My grandmother seemed happy to have the company, which made me wonder if she'd been very lonely after my grandfather died. I suppose it was something I'd never considered before. I found myself regretfully wis.h.i.+ng I'd been able to visit much more often than I had in the past. It would have been good for Miriam, especially after being left alone.

At least I'm here now, I thought to myself. At least I finally found the strength to come. I rea.s.sured myself that for right now, I was where I was supposed to be.

I didn't realize how famished I was until I started eating. The meal was simple, plain, but absolutely delectable. They roasted a chicken with garlic and onions, pairing it with mixed vegetables and mashed potatoes with gravy. I ate my food quickly. It was almost as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. Actually, now that I thought about it, I remembered I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.

While I ate, I listened quietly as the girls conversed with Miriam over the meal. Their voices held my rapt attention as they spoke; Dakota's was giggly and fast, while Annika's was softer and more p.r.o.nounced.

"Strange weather last night, eh, Kota?" Annika asked her sister.

I watched as Dakota rolled her eyes. "It was only a lucky guess," she replied. "That storm had been developing in the gulf for nearly two weeks."

"But the forecasters didn't predict it would hit Clearwater. I called it fair and square."

"Course they did." Dakota swallowed her mouthful of potatoes. "As soon as it switched tracks."

"Oh, give over, Kota," Annika said. "I named the time and date it would hit. Pay up."

Dakota looked towards Miriam incredulously. "Are you going to let her rob me blind, Grams? And here I am, a starving artist, still in college, no less."

Miriam held her hands up in mock protest. "I'm out of this one," she said to them both.

Dakota reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. She slid it across the table to Annika. "Next time I'll know you're trying to dupe me when you want to make a bet. Should have realized not to trust you and your strong feelings."

"Why's that?" Annika began to chuckle.

"Because what it really means is that you had one of your freak show premonitions."

"Dreams," Annika corrected. "It was a dream. And stop being such a sore loser."

Dakota snorted. "I'm only a sore loser because you made it sound like you were guessing."

"Only fools make bets they're not sure of."

Dakota arched a brow. "So I'm a fool then?"

Annika shrugged. "I never named you, specifically. But if the shoe fits. . ."

"Now girls," Miriam chimed in. "Let's not forget we have company. We wouldn't want to frighten Lola off so soon, would we?"

I didn't like that the attention turned back towards me. I was enjoying listening to the sisters' banter. Although they threw sarcastic barbs back and forth at each other, I could tell it was lighthearted. Still, I couldn't help but notice the topic of conversation wasn't very typical. I doubted many siblings placed wagers on the next natural disaster to strike.

"The food was delicious," I commented to no one in particular. It was the first thing I'd said since we started eating dinner.

"We're happy you liked it," Annika said.

"You're lucky it's mashed potato night," Dakota added. "Miriam only serves potatoes about once a month."

Miriam set her fork down. "Oh, what a whopper."

"It's true!" Dakota exclaimed. "Grams, when was the last time you cooked any starches for dinner?"

Miriam contemplated while counting on her fingers. Her face lit up as she remembered. "Why, just last Tuesday I made rice."

Annika shook her head as she raised her gla.s.s of water to her lips. "Nope, doesn't count. That was brown rice."

"Why doesn't that count?"

Dakota took a moment to explain to me in an aside, "She's on a health kick."

"They're just mad because I don't stock up on ice cream and potato chips," Miriam countered.

The playful arguing continued for a while longer. The dynamic between the three women seemed very foreign to me, nothing like I'd ever experienced with my father. I wondered if this was what a normal home was like.

Unfortunately, it ended too soon. Or maybe it just felt that way because I was dreading the approaching conversation I'd promised Miriam. After everyone was finished eating, Miriam shooed Dakota and Annika out of the room so we could talk privately.

"Lola can help me with that," she'd said to Annika, who had begun to wash the dishes. She motioned her towards the door. "Now off you go."

I became uneasy when I realized what was coming. My legs felt as heavy as bricks as I slowly collected the gla.s.ses and plates off of the table and brought them to the sink for Miriam to wash. Afterwards, I grabbed a towel to dry the wet dishes while she washed. I remained silent.

"Why don't you start with the whys?" she suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why did you want to leave, Lo?"

I glanced downwards. Here it comes. There was no use prolonging it. "Because of Christo. I just couldn't do what he wanted anymore."

"And what did he want you to do?"

I frowned. "You're not going to like it."

"Probably not," she agreed. "You're much too smart to run away from your father for dumb reasons."

I sighed, knowing she would fly through the roof after hearing this. I braced myself. "He tried to sell me to Madam Wilda."

My grandmother paused in the middle of was.h.i.+ng a plate.

She flung the plate across the room, letting it shatter into a thousand pieces across the tiles.

I winced at the clinking sounds. In a low voice, I mumbled, "Told you that you wouldn't like it."

"I swear," Miriam said, pausing to take a deep breath. "Your father has always been two bricks short of a load."

I raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"He's one fry short of a happy meal-- that's what I mean."

Puzzled, I simply nodded, pretending to understand her.

"Where is that good-for-nothing?" she continued to bellow. "I think I'll take my shot gun and have a little talk with him."

I cast my eyes downward. "It's no use," I said dejectedly. "He's in prison."

She marveled at me. "Are you serious?"

It made me feel ten times worse that even Miriam- a gaji- understood the underlying meaning behind what I'd just told her. She knew how much it would kill his spirit to be locked away.

"It's all my fault," I choked. A knot formed at the back of my throat. Watching Miriam digest the news brought out all the shame I felt.

"Why is this your fault?"

"Lina and I devised a plan so I could leave," I explained. "We were working a job. We were lifting a truckload of Mercedes that were headed down from Nashville. I escaped in one of the cars."

She stiffened and stood up straighter, as if she were deflecting my words. Normally, my father and I left out the unsavory parts of our lives when we spoke to Miriam. She knew anyway, but it became a habit to not tell her certain things (like how our income was made). Christo and I knew she didn't approve.