The Walk by Stacie Hauenstein

She hurried down the damp sidewalk, hopping, trying to keep up with her light-footed shadow, trying to touch the cement with her toes before it could reach up and beat her to it.  The man in the yellow coat crossed to the other side of the street, the side she would also need to be on.  She quickened her pace and padded diagonally across the grass before hopping off the curb onto the dimly lit road.  Unlike her, Yellow had used the crosswalk.  She hoped he would continue in his current direction, perpendicularly away from her so as to not have to come into contact with him.  He made the ninety-degree turn when he hit the corner of the sidewalk, and continued to walk in the same direction she needed to go.  Jumping up onto the opposite curb, she realized she would have to make the decision to speed up or slow down so as not to run into him.

Slow down.
Bad choice.
Now she was trailing Yellow much too closely.  She walked this close to people every day after work, pushing through crowds of tourists, dodging darting children, sliding between elderly, snail-like pedestrians.  With no one else walking down the dark street though, the closeness was just uncomfortable.  Perhaps if she walked lightly enough, he would not hear her footsteps, not notice she was behind him.  She had never been that lucky though.  He turned his head just a bit to the left and caught her out of the corner of his eye, walking just a bit to closely.  She worried he would think she was following him.
The tall wrought iron fence to her left coupled with the knee-high grass protectors to her right made the sidewalk too narrow to slip past him easily.  Not only would it be very awkward to maneuver herself around him, she would also have to pick up her pace to just slower than a jog to exceed his.  She only had one more block before arriving at her apartment so decided to slow down a bit and begrudgingly walk directly behind him.  She bit her lip as she did this, giving herself the pain she secretly wished to inflict upon him.  Him, and his stupid, shiny, yellow jacket.  
That’s when he reached up, grabbing the red hat off his head, releasing a shock of blond hair.  It was wild, almost elf-like.  She thought the hat was probably used more to tame that mess than to keep his head warm.  As she stared at his bramble of hair, her past came rushing back at her head on.  She hadn’t thought of Cindy’s mom for years, and the sudden flood of memories hit her like a wave in the ocean of her mind.   
“Girls, grab Tinkers and get in the car!”  
Peg loved going to Cindy’s house after school.  There was something about Cindy’s mom that filled her with confidence, making her feel as though she could conquer worlds if she wanted.  Or time!  That was her brilliant plan for the day, time traveling.  
“Hurry, hurry, hurry!  History isn’t going to just wait around for you.” Cindy’s mom said as she twirled around the yard barefoot, her skirt flowing out from her waist.  “Oh, and today you can call me Cynthia!”
Peg had no idea what Cindy’s mom’s real name was.  It seemed to change daily.  For all Peg knew it changed more than that.  She didn’t care though; she loved the whimsical sensation she felt upon entering Cynthia’s presence.  Cindy never seemed quite as impressed, however.  Cindy had just moved to Peg’s school at the beginning of the year and had become Peg’s only real friend.  She was the type of girl who preferred reading biographies in her neatly arranged room, finishing her weekend homework by 6:00pm on Fridays, and sitting in front of her computer updating her knitting blog.  Peg liked knitting with Cindy and was always impressed by her dedication to school, but nowhere near as impressed as she was with Cynthia’s free spirit.  She could never understand how Cindy and her mom could be from the same planet, let alone the same family.  
Cindy never talked about her dad.  The one time Peg asked where he was, Cindy merely said, “Away,” then turned and walked out of the room.  Peg took the hint and never asked again.  
Things were completely different when Cindy would come over to Peg’s though.    It was as if Cindy had just freed herself from a cage she had been trapped in for the last 12 years, which at that point would be her entire life.  She was happier, more talkative, and even seemed to be interested in the outdoors.  As much as Peg loved this other version of Cindy, she couldn’t resist the energy that Cindy’s mother emitted.  Whenever Cindy asked Peg to hang out, she would always beg to go to Cindy’s.  More often than not, Cindy would refuse to let Peg over.  Every once in awhile though, she would submit to Peg’s pleas.  

Peg’s parents also seemed quite reluctant to allow their daughter to spend time at Cindy’s house, which Peg didn’t understand at all.  “Mom, you love Cindy.  You tell me all the time how happy you are that I found her to hang out with.”

“You’re right, Sweetheart.  I think Cindy is wonderful.  I don’t know her mother very well though, and I feel a little uncomfortable with the things I have heard about her,” Peg’s mother would say as she set the table.  Her father would invariably agree.

“Do you want me to be alone again?  No friends?  Want me to go back to playing with my imaginary dog?” Peg shot back petulantly.  This always seemed to work.  Unfortunately, Tindy’s mother was usually asleep by the time Peg arrived at the house around 6pm, which Peg found odd.  Cindy claimed her mother usually worked the night shift, which Peg accepted as a reasonable explanation.

“Mom, I can’t find Tinkers anywhere in the house,” Cindy called from the porch.
“I don’t know who you’re talking to, dear.  My name is Cynthia!”
“CYNTHIA, I can’t find Tinkers.” Peg could tell Cindy was getting annoyed already and the adventure hadn’t even begun.
Cynthia exploded into a fit of laughter that brought her to her knees with her forehead on the ground.  
“I found him, honey!  He’s sitting in the driver’s seat!”  She was barely able to get the last word out before she fell into hysteria again.
Peg jumped up and down clapping and giggling, ready for the adventure that could now begin.  Cindy never even cracked smile as she locked the front door of the house and got into the backseat of the light blue Honda Civic, a Benazir Bhutto biography under her arm.  Peg jumped in on the opposite side, pulling Tinkers, the old Scottie, onto her lap.  
“Where do you think we’re going to go?  I should probably say when do you think we’re going to go,” Peg asked Cindy, snickering at her cleverness.
“Probably down the road.  Maybe we’ll end up at the grocery store, buy some dinner.  Now that would be a real trip, Mom buying food to make a actual meal.”  
“Come on, Cindy.  Lighten up.  Your mom just wants to have some fun with us.  What’s wrong with that?”
Cindy closed her eyes in frustration.  When she opened them again, she was staring down into the pages of her open book.  Peg knew that this meant the conversation was over.
The sounds of Cynthia’s laughter could still be heard from where she had fallen earlier.  Peg rolled down her window and called, “Cynthia, are you almost ready to go?!”
“You sure are ready and raring, aren’t you, Artie!”  Peg loved when Cynthia called her Artie, which she had been doing since the first time she came to visit.  She told Peg that Artie was short for Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, and that if she learned to channel the energy of the goddess, she could do anything she wanted to in life.  If people considered Tindy to be shy, they considered Peg the leader of the Introvert Club, which currently a membership of one.  It’s not that Peg didn’t like people.  She would give anything to be like the other girls at school, arguing with teachers about their grades, flirting with boys during the lunch period, talking for hours on the phone with their cliques of care-free friends.  Peg always assumed it was their shared awkwardness drew Cindy and she together.   
“When are we going, girls?  WHEN are we going?!” Cynthia asked, pulling her long skirt into the car so it wouldn’t get stuck in the door.  Cindy continued staring into her book, not the least interested in giving her mother an answer.  Peg hated making any life-altering decisions so remained quiet.  Cynthia turned around in her seat and grabbed Cindy’s book from her.
“Mom!  I was reading that!”
“I know honey, but I need a time to go to.”  She flipped open to book and paged through a few pages.  “1988!  Perfect, we’ll go see your birth, Cindy!  What a fantastic idea,” Cynthia said as she put the book on the seat next to her and started the engine.  They were turning out of the driveway when Cindy made an audible sigh and reached up to grab the book.  Cynthia caught Cindy’s wrist in her hand and held it there tightly as she spun around, looking Cindy directly in the eyes.  Peg instinctively clicked her seat belt around her and held Tinkers more tightly, realizing that since Cynthia was staring at Cindy, no one was staring at the road.  “You will not read on this trip.  This is an experience we will all have and enjoy together, not with you off in your own little smart-girl world.”  It seemed to Peg that the harder Cynthia squeezed Cindy’s wrist, the harder Cynthia’s foot pushed down on the gas pedal.  
Cindy attempted to pull her wrist away yelling, “Mom, look at the road!”  Peg’s eyes widened as they crossed over into the lane of oncoming traffic, Cynthia still staring at Cindy.  Finally, she released her boa-like grip, turned around, and laughed as the left wheels of the car went up onto the curb.  She continued to laugh as she maneuvered the car back into the right lane, barely avoiding a man crossing the street.
“Our first adventure of the day, Artie!  And we didn’t even start the time traveling yet,” Cynthia said proudly.
Peg looked at Cindy who was massaging her reddened wrist.  “Are you okay?” she mouthed so Cynthia wouldn’t be able to hear.  Cindy nodded her head a single time and looked out her window, her breath coming in quick, labored gasps.
“Let’s get some tunes blasting,” Cynthia said as she clicked on the radio.  

“Now there's some sad things known to man
But ain't too much sadder than
The tears of a clown, when there's no one around…”

Cynthia sang along with Smokey Robinson, moving her left hand back and forth in front of her face to the rhythm of the music.
Peg started to feel nervous.  She had never seen Cynthia this way.  Cynthia had always been fun and crazy, but never to this extent.  It was as if she was teetering on a thin rope, ready to fall any second onto the net of insanity.  At least there’s probably a safety net, Peg thought.  Probably.
Peg only had a few seconds to contemplate these thoughts before she heard the blaring siren and saw the flashing lights.  Her stomach did an immediate flip.  She had never been in a car that had been pulled over before.  My parents are going to be so upset with me, was the first thought that ran through her head.  
“Adventure number two: making friends with a cop!” Cynthia said excitedly, pulling over to the right side of the road.  Peg looked at Cindy, who was still staring out the window.  She scratched nervously behind Tinker’s right ear while he slept in her lap, not worried in the least.  As the police officer approached the driver’s side window, Peg noticed that he was not quite as tall as the car, about 5’2” she guessed.  
“Well, aren’t you a little cutie,” Cynthia remarked before the police officer, Officer Malen according to his name badge, had a chance to say anything.
“License and registration.”  The words escaped out from under Officer Malen's unkempt mustache.  He peered inside the car, looking dully at the girls and dog in the backseat.  “And please turn off the radio.”

“But of course,” Cynthia said dramatically, as she pulled her purple, crocheted purse off the passenger’s seat and switched the radio to off.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, Ma’am?”  

“I would assume it’s because you saw me drive by, saw my beautiful flowing blond hair, and wanted to get to know me better,” Cynthia flirted.  Peg had never been so disgusted with a person before.  Maybe her gut reactions of people were not quite as good as she thought they were.  

“You swerved into the other lane a few blocks back and nearly hit a pedestrian,” Officer Malen said unimpressed.  “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

“With pleasure, Officer,” Cynthia said, her lips forming a coy smile.  “Stay in the car, girls.”

As Cynthia was performing various coordination tests on the side of the road, Peg turned to Cindy and grabbed her hand.  “Are you alright?  Cindy, what’s going on with your mom?”

Cindy turned a red, tear-streaked face to Peg.  “She’s been this way since my dad left and we moved here.  She’s either sleeping or completely out of her mind.  Why do you think I never want you to come over to my house?  I’ve tried to call Dad, but I have no idea where he is.  I’ve been taking care of her since we’ve gotten here and I can’t do it anymore.  I don’t know what happened to her.  It would get better if I could just find Dad.  I know it would.”  The words tumbled out of Cindy’s mouth as if they had been trapped there for far too long.  Then she began to sob.  Peg just held onto her hand telling her that she wasn’t to blame.  Tinkers slowly padded off of Peg’s lap onto Cindy’s, circled a few times, and plopped himself down.

“Time for this time machine to blast off,” Cynthia said as she got back into the car.  Peg looked back and saw Officer Malen getting in his car, head down, scribbling notes onto a pad.  She was pretty certain he had wanted them to wait in the car for him to finish writing out the ticket.

“Did he give you your license back?” Peg asked, trying to avoid any more problems.

“Don’t need it where we’re going!”  Cynthia started the car, put it in gear, and hit the gas.  

“Mom, please stop the car.  We’re going to get in trouble.  I don’t want you to end up in jail,” Cindy pleaded.

“If you would listen, Daughter,” Cindy’s mother said coldly, “you would have heard that we are going back in time.  Haven’t you ever seen “Back to the Future”?  We’re going to do it just like that.  Hit 88 miles per hour and WHOOSH, back to the future!  Well... back to the past, but same thing!”

“No, Mom, no.  That’s not real.  That’s a movie.  We can’t go back in time!  Please, let’s just go home, please!”  Peg watched Cindy attempt to talk sense into her mother.  Cindy looked terrified, which didn’t make Peg feel any better.  She wished Tinkers would come back over so she would have something to hang onto.

They sped along the suburban streets, mailboxes and fire hydrants flying past in a blur.  Peg couldn’t move.  Her eyes were frozen open staring ahead while the mixed sounds of Cynthia’s demonic laughter and Cindy’s sobs filled her head.  She felt nothing.  No fear.  No excitement.  No anger.  She had abandoned any control she may have had, and handed her fate over to Cynthia, for better or worse.  She heard the sirens behind them again.  It sounded like three or four this time, though she had no way to know for sure without turning around to look.  Perhaps Cynthia was playing a game with the police, testing them.  Peg knew this wasn’t the case though.  Cynthia was outrunning time.  She was going to return to the past, no matter how fast she had to go, how many cops she had to seduce, or how many people she had to hurt.  

As the car’s right tires hit the gravel shoulder, Cindy’s mother veered left much too quickly.  Everything seemed to slow down around Peg as the car went into a spin.  She saw Cindy holding Tinkers tightly.  He still looked neither scared nor surprised.  It was as if he expected this would happen eventually and was now just observing.  Cindy had her head down, buried in his fur.  Peg felt sad for her.  She hadn’t done anything to deserve this.  Then she looked at the driver, her wild blond hair wrapping around her face and  headrest behind her.  She was still smiling.  Still enjoying every second of this dreadful adventure she had created.  Even when the car spun into the giant elm on the corner, decimating the entire left side of the car, Peg still thought she could hear that frenzied laughter.

“Excuse me, am I heading east?  I’ve been wandering around and seem to have lost my sense of direction.”  She just stared at him, not able to take her eyes off his wild, blond hair.  Yellow began again a little more slowly this time, “I’m sorry, excuse me.  Am I heading east?”  She blinked and saw his face clearly for the first time.  It was lovely and open while at the same time hardened as though he had seen too many tragedies in his time.  His red hat was sticking out of the pocket of his shiny yellow coat.  He unconsciously pushed it in the rest of the way.

“Ye - Yes.  You’re heading east.  Sorry, I’m a bit...,” she put her hands to either side of her head, shaking them back and forth a bit.

“Thanks,” he said turning.

She stood still, watching him walk away.  When he turned at the next corner and vanished from her sight, she realized she was standing in front of her building.  She grasped the handle, opened the door, and went in.

 

This is,

Proving I Am Not The Only Hauenstein With Talent,

Jim Hauenstein,

 

And,

 

 “The moment my niece came into the world, I realized that logic can't make sense of someone who's so brand new to you.”
- Crystal Woods, -

That is Stacie's story and I am sticking to it!

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