Chapter 6: Goodbye at the Bus Station

             Justine woke up covered in sweat. In her dream she'd been in the barn at the Ranch, but then smack in the middle of Senior Court. Lori, complete with pom poms, laughed at Justine. Mr. Trujillo laughed at her. Justine looked down. Her baby-dolls! She was in see-through, baby doll pajamas. Awake now, she kicked off the sheet, but she couldn’t kick off the feeling she’d had in the dream. 

            “Justine?” Her mother said on the other side of the door, knocking.

            “I’m awake.”

            "No need to use that tone."

            Why don’t you just come in, then, the way you used to.

            “Breakfast in twenty minutes,” her mother said.

            “I don’t want breakfast."

            "Breakfast in twenty minutes, young lady."

            Justine straightened the covers she’d kicked off. She smoothed the quilt her grandmother had made for her. She closed the windows and blinds that had been wide open all night in hope of a breeze. She tossed her baby-dolls into the hamper next to her closet, threw on her robe, and headed for the shower.

            In the bathroom, Aaron's Right Guard mingled with Mom’s VO5.

            "A person could die in here," she said out loud.

            She pulled on Aaron’s hand-me-down cutoffs and t-shirt and let Cooper out of the laundry room. She filled his bowl with Gravy Train and warm water from the laundry sink. Then she let him back in.

She would not forget Aaron’s dog on this day.

She joined Dad and Aaron at the kitchen table and leaned across to pull the curtains open, curtains edged with the same brik brak as the curtains at the Ranch. It was still dark outside.

            Mom brought the percolator over and poured coffee for Dad and Aaron.

            “Since when do you drink coffee?”

            “If you ever got up at a decent hour, you’d see what goes on around here,” Aaron said. “Where’s Viola? I thought I'd be able to tell her goodbye this morning."       

Mom placed a runny egg on a piece of toast in front of Justine.

            “I hate runny eggs, Mom. God.”

"Watch that tone, Justine," Dad said from behind the Fresno Bee. “I won’t be going to the bus station, son.” Dad snapped the newspaper. “I have an early meeting and think it’s best to let your mother take you.”

            “And me,” Justine said.

            “Sure, Dad,” Aaron said. They both stood up, their chairs scraping on the floor.

            “Walk me out?”

            “Sure, Dad,” Aaron said again.

            Justine watched them walk across the kitchen, Dad in his suit and Aaron in his uniform. She heard Cooper’s toenails clack when they opened the door between the kitchen and the laundry room.

            “Bye, dad,” Justine muttered to herself, pulling her hands through her hair.

            “Goddamn dog,” she heard Dad say.

            “Off,” Aaron said. “Stay!” Then the sound of the backdoor closing.

            Justine piled the every day plates into a stack and carried them to the sink.

            “I’ll wash,” Mom said.

            “Let me wash, Mom,” Justine said. “You dry and put away.”

            “Afraid I’ll break something?” Mom asked.

            Mom was made up just like always. Thick mascara, black eyeliner. But despite the rouged cheeks, Justine could tell she’d been crying.

            “Mom, you always break something.” Justine said, scraping the leftover food into the coffee can. Since her mother didn’t laugh, and since Aaron was leaving, she added: “I’m going to need school clothes. Didn’t anybody think of that?”

            “We’ll go shopping,” her mom said, drying the plate Justine handed her.

            “Fresno?”

            “Downtown and shop all morning. I’ll take us out to lunch. We’ll be home before your father even knows we're gone."

            “Sounds fun, Mom.”

            “I know you hate shopping.”

            "Well, don't spoil the moment."

            "Watch the tone, young lady,” Mom said. “Can you wear something other than those cutoff jeans and a t-shirt? And comb your hair?”

            How quickly the intense anger overwhelmed any empathy she’d felt for her mother only a moment ago.  Justine bit her lip.

            “Hey, you two."

            She felt more relief at the sound of Aaron’s voice.

            "This is how I’m going to remember the two of you," he said, "washing dishes together."

            “Great,” Justine said.

            He put his arms around both of them and kissed Mom on the cheek.

            “Knock it off,” Justine said, when he tried to kiss her.

            Aaron drove Mom’s Buick Sport Wagon to the bus station. He turned the air-conditioner up full blast.

            "This car gets cooler than our house," Justine said from the back.

            Aaron exaggerated every corner. Justine added the screeching sounds from the back seat. Mom squealed.

             “Listen," he said after parking in the empty parking lot. “Tell me goodbye here in the car?”

            Mom ignored him and opened the car door. Justine followed.

            "I'm not kidding," he said to them, standing outside of the station wagon. He heaved his green duffle bag out of the back. "I don’t want you waiting for me to leave."

            He put on his hat. 

            "You look like Captain Healey in ‘I Dream of Jeannie,’" Justine said. “Cool.”

            "Don't use slang, dear," Mom said. “How would that look, us leaving you here at the bus station like that?”

            "It would look like you doing me a favor, Mom,” Aaron said, dangling the car keys in front of Justine. “Healey is an officer, little missy.”

            Justine grabbed the car keys.

            “I hope you die of heat stroke in that jacket,” she said.

            “Justine!”

            “Take good care of Mom and Dad for me,” he whispered in her ear, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could duck. "And don't forget Cooper and Mr. Trujillo. I'm counting on you."

            "Mr. Who?" Mom said.

            “And Mom,” Aaron said, taking her shoulders in his hands. “Go home and write me a letter so I get one right away.”

            “I don’t know what I’d say.”

            “I’m dying to hear about that book you’re reading,” he said, hugging her.

            Aaron walked away backwards, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

            “Send me cookies,” he yelled over his shoulder as he turned to open the door.

            The Greyhound bus station, a dirty stucco building in the middle of the asphalt parking lot, looked dark inside. Even in the morning light, the blacktop felt hot under Justine’s Ked’s.

            “We’re going shopping right now,” Mom said.

            Justine opened the front door of the station wagon and her mom scooted over to the other side, adjusting her skirt. Just when Justine turned the key, she heard a knock on the window. There was Aaron.

            "The bus is late."

            She scooted over to the middle of the bench seat, and the three of them waited in silence until the bus pulled into the parking lot. Then they all got back out of the car.

            “You take care of yourself and come home to us in one piece,” Mom said to him, his cheeks now between both her hands. Then she kissed him—his lips, his forehead, all over his face, like she had when they were little.

            They watched him run to the bus, watched him take the steps two at a time, watched the bus till it was out of sight. Mom took the keys out of Justine's hand.

            “Get in the car,” she said. “You’re going to have to change those clothes.”