Teller must have driven twenty miles before he said, “Let me ask you something, Earl.”
Earl looked over at him.
“You told me that raising a family was the best thing in your life. Tell me about that. What did I miss?”
“It’s not like it’s wonderful every minute. I fouled up a lot. But I still think it was the most important thing I’ve done.”
“What did you foul up?”
“It’s kind of hard to say. Things turned out in ways I didn’t want them to, but I can’t tell you exactly what I did wrong—or even what I did right. I thought I treated all my kids the same, but each one turned out different. It’s like five completely different stories.”
“Isn’t that good? You weren’t trying to live their lives for them, were you?”
“No. But there were things I hoped for. I wanted all of them to believe in Jesus Christ and be active in our church. And I wanted them to teach my grandkids to do that too. I had something I valued, and I wanted them to have it and pass it down through generations to come.”
“So have some of them gone against that?”
“I guess that’s one way to put it, but it’s not like one day anyone ever said, ‘I don’t believe that stuff.’ My oldest son, Dave, served a mission and then got a degree in computer science, plus an MBA, and he landed a job in Silicon Valley. He worked his way up the ladder for a while and then broke off and started a company of his own. He developed some sort of software that I never have understood—”
“You mean like flannel pajamas?”
“What?”
“You know, soft wear. I’m just kidding. I know what software is.”
“Well, some things about computers I understand, but this thing he invented is all mumbo jumbo to me. All the same, he’s gotten rich with it, and somewhere along the way, the Church took a back seat to everything else in his life. He and his wife and kids seem to worship all their stuff, and I don’t think they go to church very often. I didn’t raise Dave to be like that.”
“He’s making his own choices. You can’t decide all that stuff for him.”
“But if I can’t pass my values to my own children, there must be something I don’t understand about raising a family.”
“That’s what I hear from every dad. What about your other kids? How are they doing?”
“Brent, our next son, lives in Atlanta now, and he’s serving as bishop of his ward. His wife teaches early-morning seminary. That’s a class the young people attend—”
“I know what it is.”
“You do?”
“Sure. I knew Mormon kids in my high school. They all got up early for those classes. I thought they were nuts.”
“So anyway, Brent is doing all the right things, but sometimes I worry that he’s trying to burn the candle at both ends. And he’s got a daughter in college now who has stopped going to church. She says the Church took her dad away too much—and then, you know, she’s taking classes that raise all kinds of questions about religion.”
“At least you got your values passed along to your son. It was his job to keep it going.”
“Maybe. But I wonder now whether I didn’t put the Church ahead of my family when I was so busy with all the callings I had.”
“Earl, you can’t do that to yourself. You tried to do the right thing. All parents feel like they didn’t do a perfect job.”
“I know. But my greatest worry is Alan. He’s the one I told you about who started taking drugs. He took up with kids who were drinking and smoking marijuana, and his life started spiraling downward from there. If I had it all to do over again, I’d handle things differently, but that’s not part of the deal. You don’t get any do-overs with your kids.”
“It sounds like Becky is doing well.”
“She is. So is Stan, who teaches religion. But I look back, and I wasn’t as close to any of my children as I could have been. What I understand about myself now is that I cut myself off from them. I could cheer for them at their ballgames and all that, but when they needed someone to talk to, they went to Muriel. When she died, all of them were starting to have their own kids, and I just couldn’t take her place—especially with my grandkids. They come to see me, and sometimes I get nosey about their lives and start telling them what they ought to do, but that’s not what they need.”
Teller laughed in a gush. “That’s because we don’t know much about the world the kids live in now.”
“Still, you set out to see the world, and you did it. You’ve experienced things most people never will, and I keep getting glimpses of how much you learned along the way.”
“I’m going to tell you the truth, Earl. Mostly, I worked hard, traveled to places where I knew no one and did ordinary things. I met people, but then I moved on. I was never very close to anyone. So now, what do I have to show for my life? I have memories—stories—but I don’t have people in my life. Stories can’t sit next to you when you’re alone—and cooped up in a little room.”
Earl knew better than to try to talk Teller out of this assessment. Neither one of them spoke for a time. It was finally Teller who said, “Hey, we gotta stop this. We all have our ups and downs. There’s no use talking ourselves into too many sorrows. Like you said, we don’t get do-overs.”
“I know,” Earl said, “And I’ll say this about my children. They’re all good people. Even Alan, with his drug problems, tries really hard to help his friends, and he supports people through AA—you know, when he’s doing better. He tries hard to be a father to his children too. And maybe Dave doesn’t go to church all the time, but he’s a good man. He gives to all kinds of charities, even sits on the boards of some of them.”
“I know you want him to go to church, but if you taught him to be a good person, and he learned that, it seems like that’s what ought to matter. There are a whole lot of really bad people in this world, and if you’ve taught five kids to be good—you know, to help other people and that sort of thing—you can’t get too down on yourself.”
Earl knew Teller didn’t understand things like covenants, temple sealings, and the gathering of Israel. But still, the man had a point. Eternity was about growth, and Dave wasn’t so far away that he could never return to the right path. Alan had had overwhelming challenges in his life, but if he kept trying hard, his chance to grow wasn’t lost.
“Well, I guess that’s enough sadness for one day,” Teller said. “When we get to Sioux Falls, we can see about painting the car. Then we’ll make more stops from here on out.”
“That’d be good. Once I talk to my daughter, we should be okay to take our time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“But, Teller, we’ll get to Connecticut—whatever it takes. That’s the most important thing.”
Teller and Earl stopped for lunch at a Wendy’s in a truck stop, but mostly they stayed on the highway. No one stopped them, and by late afternoon they were approaching Sioux Falls. By then, Earl really was worn out. “Don’t you think we ought to call it a day?” he asked.
“Sure. And let’s not get all the way into the city. Watch for the kind of dump we’ve found the last couple of nights.”
Earl knew what he meant, and when he spotted a rundown little motel, with the m not working on the neon sign, he pointed it out to Teller. Teller pulled in and said, “You have a nose for these places.” Teller parked, and they both walked to the little frame building on the end of a row of motel units. “offi” was printed on the door. A man at least as old as Earl appeared at the desk after Teller rang a little bell.
“Yeth?” he said. The man had no teeth.
“Do you have a room available?” Earl asked. He took his wallet out.
But suddenly the man’s eyes widened. He looked from Earl to Teller and then back again. “I know you two. I got a email about you jutht a little while ago. It showed your picturth and thaid how you were—one tall, one thort. And both old ath the hillth.” The man smiled, showing his gums.
“An email?” Earl said. “Who sent it?”
“I don’t know. The govament or the copth or thomeone like that. It wath thent to all the motelth, I think. It thaid to watch for you and report back.”
“I don’t think we’re the guys,” Teller said. “There’s no reason anyone would be looking for us.”
The man’s lips sucked in as he took another careful look at Teller, then Earl. “Where’re yuh from? Utah?” he asked.
Earl didn’t answer. He knew what the plates on the car said.
But Teller asked, “What happened in Utah?”
“One old guy—you—grabbed another old guy—him—and you’re thtealing all hith money and driving him acroth the country.”
Earl opened his wallet. “Look, I’ve got plenty of money.” He showed his thick collection of twenties. “I’m paying tonight. He paid last night.”
“Well, that thoundth good. Go ahead an’ pay me now, so I get thomething out of thith before they throw the two of you in jail.”
Earl paid for the room, and he decided it was time to set things right. He didn’t want to hear another one of Teller’s crazy explanations. “We’ve done nothing wrong, sir,” he said. “My daughter sent the police after us, but she’s got everything wrong. You need to know, my friend Teller here, he didn’t kidnap me, and he hasn’t taken any of my money. We were living in a retirement home, and we were tired of sitting around doing nothing, so we decided to take a trip together. We’re having a good time.”
“Well, I thee what you mean. An’ I think I underthtand. I have a couthin in a place like that, and he’d give anything to take off and travel with me if he could. We’ve talked about doing it one of thethe dayth.”
“So you won’t report us?” Earl asked.
“No. Not at all. But I’ll tell you what. You need to dye your hair and maybe tan your fatheth. You could get falth muthtathes too. My daughter-in-law hath a hair thalon in the thity. Thee could ficth you up.”
“Great!” Teller said.
Earl wasn’t at all excited by the idea, but the man accepted Teller’s response and disappeared into a back room, which appeared to be his own apartment. When he came back, he had put in his teeth, which made him look somewhat better. He had a shadow of whiskers, mostly gray and thorny. His hair was black, but Earl could see white roots, and he wondered already what he and Teller were getting themselves into. “Okay,” the man said, “I talked to my daughter-in-law and you’re all set. I’ll give you directions so you can find her in town. Safire—that’s her name—will meet you at her salon in an hour. Maybe you can grab yourself a sandwich on the way. It takes only about thirty minutes to get there. And by the way, my name’s Stan Stanislawski.”
Earl realized why he hadn’t tried to say his name any sooner.
“Nice to meet you,” Teller said. “What did they say our names were in that email you got?”
“I don’t remember, but I heard you calling each other Tiller and Earl, so that’s what I told her.”
“It’s Teller, not Tiller,” Teller said.
“Well, that was close enough, I guess.”
“Not really,” Teller said as he stepped toward the door.
He and Earl set off. Once again, Earl had to accept fast food—in this case a hot dog at a roadside stand called “Wild Dawgs.” And then, in spite of Stan’s instructions, they got lost before they finally found the place of business: “Safire’s Breath of Hair Salon.” They were ten minutes late, but Safire hadn’t arrived anyway. When she parked out front, she unlocked the door and then waved to Teller and Earl to come in. But Earl could hardly believe what he was seeing. She was wearing a skirt of many colors and a yellow blouse that swooped down in the back (and, as Earl later saw, did the same in the front). But it was her hair that worried him most. It was as colorful as her skirt, with shades of pink and red, green and purple. She also had a ring through her nose, a gold post stuck through her eyebrow, and a tattoo of a teddy bear on one forearm and a panda on the other. Earl just hoped she wouldn’t try to pierce him anywhere or talk him into a tattoo. Actually, he didn’t want to dye his hair either, and he had never said that he would. He was just caught in a wave that Stan had generated and Teller had jumped into.
“Come in, boys,” Safire said. “Now aren’t you just about the cutest guys I’ve ever seen? And I hear you’re on the run from the cops. There’s nothing I love more than a bad boy. It’s my weakness. It always has been. My husband—Stan’s son—is the most worthless bag of trash who ever took up space on this planet, but I love him to death. Do you know what I mean?”
Earl didn’t.
But Teller said, “Oh, sure. Every man is attracted to that girl he wouldn’t dare take home to meet his parents.” He looked at Earl. “Didn’t you find it that way back when you were courting girls?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“Earl’s more straitlaced than anyone you’ll ever meet,” Teller told Safire. “Don’t hold it against him.”
“Ooooh, maybe I’ll hold me against him. He’s so tall and good looking. I think I might be ready for someone nice—just for a change.”
Earl wanted to run for his life. But Teller seemed quite taken with Safire. “Naw, stick with me. I’m an adventurer. Earl’s boring, if you want to know the truth.”
“That’s true,” Earl said. He wanted to end this kind of talk and get on with the silly business they had come there for.
The place looked normal enough, with three chairs and lots of mirrors—sort of like a barber shop with sinks—but the room reeked as though someone had been painting the walls and burning coal oil at the same time. He had to wonder, was it supposed to smell like that?
“Okay, fellows, sit down for just a minute,” Safire said. “Let’s talk hair. I need to understand more about you, not only what colors complement your eyes and skin tones but what hues match your personalities. Hair should always be an outgrowth of who we are, and maybe, just a little, who we imagine we are.”
“Our outgrowths are falling out,” Teller said, “especially mine.”
“I can give your hair a little thicker look, just by the way we color and comb it.”
“Hey, I like that,” Teller said. He sat down in one of the waiting-area chairs. Earl sat down next to him. “I’ve always liked to imagine myself as a tall guy with wavy hair and mystery in my eyes. You know, like Cary Grant. Can you move me a little in that direction?”
Only in your dreams, Earl told himself.
“Oh, certainly. I can do that. You have wonderful blue eyes, and I can use those to call attention away from your receding hair line. Let’s see, you’re Tiller, right?”
“Teller. A tiller plows the ground. I am a raconteur, a teller of tales.”
“Oh, my. I like that.” She looked at Earl. “And you’re an Earl. That’s like being a lord or a duke, right?”
Earl shook his head. “It’s just my name.”
“But how do you see yourself? What should your hair say to the world?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”
“Ma’am?” she said with a squeak. “You’re so sweet, but don’t call me that. Just call me Safire. It’s not truly my name, but it’s the one I chose because it expresses me.”
“Okay. But you have the wrong idea,” Earl said. “The police are looking for us, but we haven’t broken any laws. We just need to darken our hair so we look a little different.”
Teller said, “Stan recognized us right off. So we need black hair or something like that. I think maybe you need to color our eyebrows too, and maybe put us in a tanning bed to change the way our old skin looks. Stan suggested false mustaches, and if you have any fake noses around here, that might help.”
“Oh, Tiller, you—”
“Teller.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. But you don’t need a fake nose. When I get your hair tone right, you’ll feel taller, and you’ll sense the elegance of your walk. Your every glance will express mystery. You’ll not only look different, you’ll be a different man.”
“All right. That’s what I’m talking about. I’ve spent my whole life feeling that I was living in the wrong body. I had no idea my hair had so much to do with that.”