| |
In which Anderson Cooper doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
––––––––
“Jonas had a man deliver your chariot,” Garland said to Parker as we burst into his hotel room. He tossed her a key and added, “Candy-apple red and a little more reliable than your old one. It’s waiting across the street. Dear, you might want to get moving.”
“What, the helicopters?” she asked. “They’re probably after some other fugitives in town.”
The old man frowned and Parker said, “I’m joking, but I wasn’t leaving without a goodbye kiss.” Garland couldn’t help but smile.
I walked past them to the window and peered out behind the curtain. The street was empty, but sirens still roared in the distance, and I could see one of the four helicopters hovering near the train station. “Where’s the remote?” I asked, but no one answered so I turned on the television at the box and began flipping through the channels until I saw an aerial view of Saint-Lô.
“Les fugitifs à Saint-Lô,” Parker said, reading the words on the screen. “See, it doesn’t say which fugitives. I think we’re good.”
I tried to laugh and my phone rang. It was Fitz.
“Green, I really want to talk about you and Parker Haddaway sexing it up, but there are more important things—”
“Hold up, who said we—”
“Not now, man. Parker, her real name is Emily Bloom, and she’s the same girl that stabbed that crazy gay-hating preacher in the leg in Florida when we were in like seventh grade and—”
“Dude, calm down, I know.”
Fitz caught his breath and said, “Okay, but did you know Anderson Cooper just said French marines have the three of you holed up in a hotel in some town called Saint ...”
“Saint-Lô?”
“Yeah, Saint-Lô.”
“He’s wrong,” I said, then glanced out the window to make sure the marines hadn’t arrived in the last sixty seconds. “At least for now,” I added.
“That’s good, I guess. Did you guys find the woman?”
“No.”
“Damn,” Fitz said.
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“Everything we’ve done so far has been stupid, why would we change strategies now?”
Fitz laughed and said, “You know what I mean. Just be safe man.”
“We will.”
I hung up the phone as Garland and Parker finished their goodbyes. “What are we going to do?” I asked.
“Parker is going to leave,” Garland said, then pointed at the door and added, “now.”
“Okay, I’m leaving,” she said, and picked up her backpack.
“And I’m going to turn myself in and go home,” Garland said. “You’re welcome to join me, or you can hide under the bed and play hide-and-seek with the French army.”
“No,” I said. “We can’t give up now. Not in Saint-Lô. We can still find Madeleine if we—”
“Son, it’s not going to happen. Believe me, I’m thankful for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve both done,” he added, turning to Parker. “But we’re not going to find her. Now go, dear. You’ve got everything you need, so please, get the hell out of France.”
Parker walked over to Garland and they embraced one last time. “Au revoir mademoiselle,” Garland said as they pulled away, and the old man put one hand on her cheek and whispered something I didn’t hear, then he kissed her on the forehead and said goodbye again.
Parker turned to me with open arms and said, “Edwin Green.” I didn’t want to hug her, because I thought maybe if I never said goodbye she’d never leave, but I walked across the room to her anyway. We hugged, and she put her hands on my shoulders and held me at arm’s length and smiled and said my name again. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to go back to Hornby and be my girlfriend and for us to live happily ever after. But now that I knew the rest of her story I accepted that none of that would ever happen, so in lieu of a bumbling attempt at a romantic farewell speech, I just smiled back at her and tried not to cry.
That’s when Sadie Evans called.