Tormented Mind
Sorrow Weeps
Bitter Feelings
Wounds Are Deep
Rise Above
Head Held High
New Approach
Clearer Eyes
~ Hannah Gunner ~
It was to be the last move; her mom had promised. But the truth was, Hannah didn’t care; she looked at moving as a brief adventure. That’s what Hannah told herself: Don’t get too settled, and don’t get attached to anyone or anything; you’ll be off on another adventure again soon enough! It worked; she kept to herself, laid low, made more acquaintances than friends, and when they did move, it wasn’t such a big deal to Hannah. Looking back, that theory was likely linked to the separation of her dad more so than moving, but it took a while for Hannah to connect the two. Gloria was ready for a change, but this time there was something different about her delivery regarding the move. She addressed it as if it really were, this time, a permanent move for the pair.
“I’ll be making more money,” Gloria hollered from the kitchen. “It’s a promotion, and I’m thrilled about that, but the best part of all…” She quit talking and suddenly appeared outside Hannah’s bedroom door.
“Yesssss,” Hannah dragged out playfully. “What’s the best part of this move over the last, say what, five?”
“Very funny, although you could be right.” Gloria pulled out a chair by Hannah’s desk. “This move is actually one you may or may not be familiar with.” Hannah looked puzzled. “Okay, what I mean is we’re going back to our hometown. You were little, but do you remember living in San Francisco?” Hannah had a blank look on her face. “Do you remember visiting Aunt Sandy, well she wasn’t really your aunt, but we called her that because she was my best friend? And, you know Aunt Kathy of course; she lives there.”
Hannah nodded. “Yes on Aunt Kathy, the Christmas presents, and not really, vaguely, maybe, I don’t know, on the other one, the Sandy lady.”
“Well, it’s not important. I just think it’s time we moved back closer to home, closer to family, Kathy.” Gloria laughed. “It will be a good move for both of us.”
Shaking her head, Hannah shooed her mom out of her room. “Whatever, I don’t care. As long as I’m out of school for a few days, we’ll label it another adventure and move on.” Grinning, she handed her mom a dirty cereal bowl. “Can you take this to the kitchen on your way out, please?”
Gloria reached for the bowl, but not without giving her a dirty look and playfully rolling her eyes.
Over the next few weeks, Gloria and Hannah packed up their belongings.
Wrapping what few personal things she owned and placing them carefully into cardboard boxes, Hannah’s eyes caught sight of her prized conch shell that sat on a makeshift bookshelf. The times she’d pack that thing away and moved it with her, only to unwrap it, check it for cracks, and place it carefully in yet another safe place had been too many times to count. Faded memories of the Captain, and that horrific afternoon when her mom delivered the devastating news of her father’s death came flooding back to her. Hannah remembered hearing the words, but couldn’t process them properly at the time. Gloria’s explanation of her father’s death brought Hannah little comfort; he’d been gone for so long anyway, but her strongest memories, memories of the Captain, managed to bring her peace. Her shell, a gift from the Captain, was a memory that she hadn’t forgotten and counted as her most prized possession to date. Picking up the shell, she held it in her hands and remembered the gruff sound of the Captain’s voice. Holding it to her ear, she listened for a few moments to the swirling sound of the sea and smiled, remembering her dad’s words before wrapping it in a newspaper and placing it once again in the box. Hannah had asked about him a while back after picking up a photo that Gloria always set by the side of her bed. It was a photograph of the three of them, a family, and they looked happy. Hannah was in the middle, Hank on one side of her, and Gloria on the other.
“What happened to him?” Hannah had asked. “I know he died, but how?”
“They called it a shank. Kinda like a homemade knife.”
Snapping out of it, Hannah looked around her room. She always packed the same way; working from the outer edges inward. Bookshelf, closet, chest of drawers, bedding, and that was about it. They didn’t own much, so packing was a breeze. Walking through the apartment one last time, they locked the doors, turned in the keys, said their goodbyes, and hit the road. Pulling into rest stops and making do for the night meant they’d sleep in the car. Hannah pretended she didn’t care, but she did. She wanted a shower, a clean bed, and real food. Cranky, tired, and sick of driving, she needed a hit of nicotine, her JUUL. They’d driven for fourteen hours straight, stopping only for gas, snacks, and to use the restroom. Finally, Gloria pulled into a rest stop and parked the car for the night. The air was hot and sticky, making it impossible to get comfortable in the tiny Honda Civic. The U-Haul Gloria was pulling weighed the car down, and between the trailer, the beat-up Honda, and the pair of them, they indeed looked and felt homeless.
“Once we arrive, we’ll spend time with Aunt Kathy and check out the new place.” Gloria took a sip of coffee. “You might not remember Kathy very well. Cards, presents, and phone calls are a lot different than being with someone in person, but she adores you and always has.”
Hannah didn’t care; anything beat where they were right then. The windows were cracked, but there was hardly enough air, and Gloria refused to roll them down all the way due to stranger danger.
“It’s not safe with the windows down. Oh, I hate this.” She turned to Hannah. “We’re parked at a rest stop; we should keep going and try to find a hotel.”
Hannah shook her head. “You can’t drive; you’re whipped. And I don’t have my license yet. As much as I hate it, and I do hate it, we’ll get through.”
Gloria blew her a kiss. “Thank you! By the way, Kathy’s picked out two apartments for us. One for sure is promising. And I have my entrance interview, paperwork, and whatnot on Tuesday at SF Memorial Hospital. Hannah, I promise, this move is going to be good for us!”
Hannah laid back on the seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard. A can of soda in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, but all she wanted was a hit of her vape. Gloria unwrapped a soggy PB&J and handed it to her. Hannah turned up her nose.
“Oh, hell no!” she responded. “I’m not eating that; it looks gross.”
“Wrong answer, and watch your mouth!” Gloria tapped her on the leg. “I won’t tell you again.”
Shoving the sandwich in Hannah’s lap, she unwrapped another for herself. It might not be the finest meal, but her kid was going to eat. Peanut butter was nutritious, and she’d cook her a real meal as soon as she could. Against her will, Hannah picked at the sandwich. Desperately needing fresh air and to stretch her legs, a break from the car, she couldn’t stop fidgeting. Knowing that she couldn’t vape, and her mom wouldn’t let her stretch her legs, the only thing she could do was try to go to sleep. The sound of her mom’s voice helped her drift off to a secret place in the corner of her mind. White sands and a blue ocean awaited her, along with a ship floating offshore manned by a few scrappy scoundrels and, if she was lucky, the Captain.
A young girl’s giggles echoed in Hannah’s head, a younger version of herself, as her mind drifted into sleep and she followed the laughter of a little girl until the image of the girl appeared running toward the water’s edge. The waves were tickling her toes, and Hannah observed the Captain watching over the girl as she played, and just like that she had drifted off into a lovely dream where the seagulls circled around her, the waves danced at her feet, and she didn’t have a single care in the world.
A smile crossed Hannah’s face as she slept and Gloria could tell she was dreaming. It was impossible for Hannah to say if any of her memories were real; games that she’d played with her daddy or stories he’d once told had turned into dreams. All she knew was that the recurring dream, whatever it was, brought her a beautiful escape. That escape had become a crutch that Hannah had learned to lean on for years.