UNTITLED Gotta keep my cool. Gotta play it safe. I stood up slowly.
"So, uh, Toemass," I began, doing my best to keep the hick persona up. "Howda you go about hearin' that?"
Thomas grinned proudly. It was obvious he was apeshit over his sleuthing. "Well, I rang up one of Emma and I's old chums from school. Her name is Veronica Mathers, she lives in Emma's hometown. She said she hadn't heard a thing about any wedding- in fact, she hadn't heard a thing about Emma in weeks!" He stopped and wheezed in a breath. "She said she'd certainly not heard anything about you at any rate," he added, obviously completely proud of himself.
Emma and I sighed inwardly. Nobody knew a thing yet! They were still safe. This Mathers certainly wouldn't go running around with the news, and likely she hadn't gained much from Thomas anyway- unless it was what he wanted to tell you, getting information from Thomas was like getting blood from a turnip.
I chuckled softly. Back to work. I ambled my way over to Thomas and put my arm over his shoulder. We pulled away from Emma.
"Toemass- I really didn't wanna talk about this cause, uh, kinda embarasses my lil' lady. But uh, you see, Emma and I weren't married under the most uh, pristine of conditions. You see, Em and I was knocking boots back in mah barn when..."
Thomas swirled about quickly. "You must be joking!"
I grinned stupidly. "She's got the cake in the oven to prove it."
Thomas looked aghast. "You mean...?"
"Yep. An' so it was decided by the powers that be in mah town that the best way to go about this was just to see us hitched with as little force as possible."
Thomas blinked. "You mean a shotgun wedding?"
"More like an Uzi. An' so you see, Thomas, that's why we's keeping this as quiet as can be like. We don't want the Ramalamadingdongs to be losing face, you hear? An' so that's what we'd really appreciate if you kept this one...under your belt." I chortled loudly, clapped Thomas on the back, and made my way back to Emma.
I swung about on my heel. "Thanks Tom! You're the best damn friend a body ever had!"
I didn't know what Randy had said to Thomas, but when they came back, Thomas nodded, almost embarrassed, and took his leave of us. I turned to Randy, surprised. "What did you say to him?" I demanded. I certaintly didn't want anything that might get around at home and...tarnish whatever reputation I might have had. Not that I cared.
Randy smiled to himself. "Don't worry so much, Emma. It's all taken care of. I simply explained that it's not exactly public knowledge yet, because we haven't been back to your family and had a proper wedding."
I whirled on him. "Proper wedding? You mean you told him that we were planning on going back and having a fucking white wedding in front of my family?" I was extremely annoyed at this idea. It was hard to know why.
"Yeah, so?" Randy countered maturely. When I thought about it, however, I realized that Randy had a point. What did I care?
Our week at the Lizard Lodge was almost up. Randy and I had to decide what we were going to do next. We weren't strapped for cash quite yet, but would be quickly if we didn't play our cards right. We were possibly wanted by the police (and if Thomas snitched on us, which he certaintly would, we would be wanted by the police in two countries), in a foreign country, and still didn't really know what to make of each other. What were we supposed to do?
I was lying in bed the last night of our stay when it hit me--the solution to our problems. Thomas. Thomas had more money than he knew what to do with. He used to spend it on me quite lavishly--why not still? I silently cursed at myself for wasting all the time that could have been spent getting money out of Thomas, dressed quickly, and tiptoed around the lodge until I got to Thomas's room The door was unlocked. I opened it and slipped inside.
Thomas was sleeping when I entered the room. I walked over to his bed, lay down beside him, and began kissing him. He woke up and started kissing me back.
Emma.
Thomas.
Her on him.
Him kissing her.
Room. Walked in on accident. Walked out before they saw me. Seemed to be having good time. State of shock now. Leaning on wall. Catching breath.
Maybe getting to be better friends. Maybe catching up on old times. Or maybe Emma's just fishing in his pockets for his keys. I obviously don't know what's going on.
Emma's not my girlfriend. So why do I care so much?
These are the best and worst days of my life. So I wasn't exactly proud about my actions. And kissing Thomas was pretty disgusting. I had this horrible feeling the entire time, like I was betraying Randy. Which I guess I was, but not really. Besides, I was doing this for us. Money would definitely help us.
Eventually, I pushed Thomas aside (hey, I do have standards. Really, now.). He talked at me for a while, about his home life and how he wanted me to go back home with him to "raise the baby." I looked at him in shock.
"Raise the baby? What baby?"
Thomas looked briefly confused. "Oh Emma, stop being so modest. It's all right that you're in the family way. Although it does make me slightly peeved that you will compromise your morals so quickly for trailer trash such as your alleged fiancee but not for me."
All of a sudden, I understood. "So you talked to Randy about this?"
"Ah yes. He explained the delicate nature of the situation to me. I was doing the manly thing in stepping down, but I didn't expect a midnight visitor."
I almost hit him but decided to stay nice. "Well, here I am!" I exclaimed. Thomas then expressed how tired he was, and promptly fell asleep.
I walked over to his 'secret' pouch in his suitcase--the one where he kept his money clip. Dating him for seven months had been good for something. I then tiptoed out of his room and tore down the hallway, intent on finding Randy and getting the hell out.
I didn't really want Emma to find me. I'd secreted myself away in my Lizard Lodge hidey hole- a kind of funny little hovel made under a holly bush. It was a prickly affair getting in, but served the dual purpose of repelling invaders. It was perfect- isolated enough (out on the horse track) and quiet enough I could get some good thinking done. Granted, of course, that Emma didn't find me- which of course she did. "Randy, you goof. What are you doing out here? I've spent like twenty minutes looking for you. We've gotta go, now!" I said to Randy, who was sitting in a pretty pathetic little shack in the middle of a holly bush. I'd only found him because we'd seen it earlier, and I thought he might have gone back.
Randy didn't respond, he just looked at me coldly. I couldn't figure it out. He couldn't have seen me...could he? "Randy, come on, really, we've gotta go, like, now." I said, with a trace of irritation in my voice. Really, he was so hard to understand sometimes.
"Why don't you go alone? I can stay here. One hotel's as good as another." Randy said in a monotone, not looking at me.
Now I knew for sure he had seen me. "Is this about Thomas?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.
He finally looked up. "Where did you get that idea? It's perfectly fine with me what you do and who you do it with. You're under no obligation to me. It's just that--" Randy stopped there.
"Just that what?" I asked gently.
"Just that...I thought we had some sort of agreement. Nevermind. It's not that it matters now." He shook his head and looked away.
I could feel things were actually happening. "Of course it matters, Randy! What kind of an agreement? Like an exclusive one, or--"
I was cut off by a gunshot behind us. Thomas stood there, holding his designer pistol pointed at the air, with an incredibly smug look on his face. "Well, Emma, we meet again. Although this time, not in such an intimate setting, hmmm?"
I could have punched him. The look on Randy's face told me that our conversation was over. I waited for Thomas to continue.
"Hand over the money, Em." he said coldly, extending a hand.
Randy turned to me. "You just wanted the money?" he asked, sounding extremely relieved.
"Of course I just wanted the money! You think I was actually interested in this pompous joker?" I asked Randy with a grin. He grinned back. Thomas looked angrier.
"Just give me the money, Emma, and no one gets hurt."
"Emma! RUN!" Randy yelled, and we took off like jackrabbits to my car, leaving our belongings back in the room. Who cared? We still had the money. We were home free.
We wheeled out of the Lizard Lodge front gates doing about 85. Thomas' Luger replica blew a hole through the back hatch of the LandRover. I had to get me one of those.
I looked out over the highway. We'd lost all our clothes, but we could always buy new ones. Pompous Man's money would see to that.
I smiled at Emma. "The money? That was all you wanted?"
She smiled back. "Of course! Why? What did you think you..." She trailed off and looked at me. She gulped. "...see?"
I chuckled. "A romantic rekindling of sorts."
Emma pulled over to the side. "Randy, there was nothing between me and Thomas back at the Lodge. We needed money and I knew Thomas was practically swimming in it. I did what I had to get it. I'm sorry you had to see that- it makes me feel a little dirty, actually- but out here on the road we're going to have to do what we can to get by. Even if that means...soiling our hands from time to time. But what happened back there was just business- there's nothing I admire anymore in Thomas. Alright?"
I smiled. "Alright."
She pulled back on to the road. We drove along in silence for a while.
I leaned over to Emma and whispered in her ear. "Not even that cute way he snorts at all his jokes?"
She laughed and threw a waterbottle at me. In the end, the Thomas Winslow fund provided Randy and me with an extra $2,574 boost. Which was very good, because we were going to need it.
I was worried about Thomas sending the Canadian authorities after us, and so long hours were spent trying to decide what to do with the Landrover. Were the mounties really going to hunt us down, even in some remote Canadian province that wasn't British Columbia? I didn't think so. They had better things to do than search for wacky Americans stealing from the rich, I hoped.
I was all for finding some deserted cabin and living there until everything blew over, but Randy was adamant about returning to the States. "Do we really want to grow up as Canadians?" he asked, rationally. He argued that if we surfaced in, say, Montana or Vermont, they wouldn't be looking for us and we could find a cabin there. After I gave the matter some thought, I fully agreed with Randy. We were starting to pick up Canadian accents, which was incredibly scary. It was time to head home to the land of the free and the home of the brave.
The only problem was getting over the border. I'd once heard that Canadians watch the border like hawks to make sure that nothing illegal is smuggled back into America. Was that true?
Was this a joke?
The Canadian border crossing looked like a picnic today. There were maybe three Marshalls in sight- and that was counting the one sitting in the booth! Peace Arch, indeed- we might as well be the same country!
Getting out of Canada, I thought, was going to be one of the best decisions we'd made yet. It'd be nice to finally get to speak good, old-fashioned, Americanized English, rather than this demon hybrid they had up here.
We pulled into the shortest line- four cars. The Marshall would look the vehicle up and down and then just wave it on through. Easy as pie. I fixed on my nicest smile.
We rolled up. The officer nodded at us, and then started looking at the tires. Then back at us. Then back at the tires. He fixed a frown.
"I'm going to need to ask you folks to drive over this way." Ok. I wasn't going to panic. Of course not. Why was there any reason to panic? We were just getting singled out at the border...after stealing a car and lots of money...but of course everything would be all right!
Wouldn't it?
Anyway, I drove the car over to their special area designated for bad cars and attempted to not completely freak out. Randy held my hand. After a fucking month, an officer sssssllloooowwwlllyyy walked over to us. I noticed that he was armed. Great.
"Miss, we would appreciate it if you would step out of the car." He said, and nodded at Randy. We got out. Now I was completely panicked.
They started searching the car, which I found odd. I had the money in my pocket and, well, the car was right there. I didn't know what they were searching for. That is, until they started prying off the hubcaps.
"I saw this on a cop show once," Randy whispered to me. "They're checking for drugs."
Indeed they were. After an exhausting two-hour search, the officers finally concluded that we weren't smuggling drugs into America (from Canada--have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?). They gave us their most sincere apologies, and let us go on our merry way.
So we were back, in the Land of Opportunity. Now what?
First things first- we drove into the nearest McDonald's (conveniently located five minutes from the border!). Sure, I could have gotten by Big Mac north of the 49th, and sure, I could have used old Abraham Lincoln in Canada just as easily- but there was something so tactile, so American about slamming that money down for my Value Meal. It made me feel at home.
We'd returned to the US of A, but hadn't really reclimatized yet. It was like the bends- go back too fast and it'll make your head spin. After some soulsearching and thinking, Em and I decided on heading to the closeset facsimile of Canada would could find- Bellingham. Bellingham's name itself sounded Canadian, but perhaps more importantly, Bellingham was home to the most Canadian-esque college students in the nation, one of whom I happened to know. Larry Schmidt's son, Ernst, was a junior at Western, and would certainly be up to lending us a helping hand.
Ernst Schmidt was one of those individuals you got the feeling would never wake up. In war novels, they're always the character who's described as having a "sheen"- a sort of shield around them that'll keep them unharmed, no matter the situation. There's a part in 'Apocalypse Now' about Robert Duvall's character, the Apache-leading surfer colonel, and the aura he projected- that sense of being one of the people the war would have as hard a time getting to as a bullet. Ernst Schmidt had never been much of anything, but what he was was there, and when we needed him, he wasn't going to let us down.
Not surprisingly, he was home.
Randy told me to trust him, and I did. Which was the only reason I wasn't running away screaming when I was led into Bellingham to some stranger's seedy apartment. I was, however, extremely impressed by Ernst Schmidt. He took the whole sordid story in stride, and invited us in to stay a couple days with him until we had a game plan. We had a very nice meal of mac and cheese for dinner, and I listened to Randy and Ernst catch up on old times. It was pretty cute.
The next morning Ernst had a map of the United States out on the kitchen table. He told us to find the most obscure town we could, and stay there until everything blew over. I took the West Coast, Randy took the East Coast, and Ernst took the rest of the map. Suddenly, Ernst jabbed at a small dot on the map excitedly with his finger. "That's it. Zortman, Montana. That's your new location."
A quick internet search told us that Zortman was the right place to be. Population: 394. No performing arts, theme parks, or sports teams within 50 miles. It had a nice array of fast food restaurants, and a Wal Mart. Definitely the place to go.
We stayed with Ernst one more night and then left, fearing the authorities. We packed up the car early in the morning and left for Zortman, intent on getting there in two days.
One bad thing for small town life- it completely spoils you on small towns for the rest of your life. I mean, I know, I know- small town charm, quaint natures, blah blah blah. But growing up in a small town ruins that whole image for you- you can't help seeing them for the seedy hellholes they really are.
Ernst had never led me astray before, though, and I got the feeling he wasn't going to start now. Rolling into town, we got ourself a room at the motel, and then wheeled our way across town to the local Burger Barn equivalent.
