Rest Home Runaways by Henderson Clifford

Author:Henderson, Clifford [Henderson, Clifford]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781626391703
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2014-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

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Casa de Fruta was bustling with tourists wandering to and from Casa de Restaurant, Casa de Motel, Casa de Wine, Casa de Diesel, Casa de Choo Choo, and Casa de Restrooms. Mac headed straight for the fruit stand, using his new cane to tap the road, shrubs, and sides of produce bins to test their legitimacy. He wanted to know what was of this world—and what wasn’t. He passed a crate of fresh garlic and was comforted by its pungent smell.

The stand itself was just a token of the much larger indoor market where he strolled amongst bins of produce and nuts, trying to relax. He stopped at the cashews. A young family—two kids, two parents—were making a family project of filling a sack of honey-roasted peanuts next bin over.

“One more scoop,” the rascally son demanded, his chubby hand tugging the hem of his mother’s sundress.

“Are you going to be able to eat all this?” the father asked, tickling him.

Delighted, the boy released his mother’s skirt and squirmed away. “Y-ees!”

“Okay.” The mother, a model of patience, scooped more into the sack. “But that’s it.”

Mac felt his blood pressure ratchet down a few notches. “Cute kids,” he said to the father.

“Don’t let them fool you.”

The mother slapped his arm playfully. “Ted!”

“Have two myself. Boy and a girl,” Mac said. “’Course they’re grown.”

“Then you know,” the father said.

“Do I,” Mac said, squelching a ridiculous urge to tell them about the stolen car, the ghost, his promise to Effie, to beg them to take him wherever they were going. He pulled a paper sack from the stack and flicked it open. Who was he kidding? He should tell them to appreciate each other while they could, that life goes faster than you ever imagine. But that was just old man stuff.

“Bye bye!” the little girl said over her father’s shoulder as he toted her away.

Mac filled his paper sack with cashews and picked up an apple for later. Once paid, he strolled out to the mini amusement park where a band of fat-cheeked toddlers were chasing a tired flock of puddle ducks while parents snapped photographs with tiny cameras. He wanted to eat his nuts there, but a parked van of rowdies was blaring some god-awful music. He continued on to the outskirts of the country-fruit-stand-turned-tourist-trap, a healthy walk past several Casa-de-Something-or-Others, searching for peace and quiet, the sun-soaked asphalt sizzling up through the soles of his shoes. How quickly he’d gone from craving humanity to running from it.

He came upon an alley of retired farm equipment, rusted out tractors, grazers, backhoes, some of them a hundred years old, the people who ran them long gone. He popped a cashew in his mouth, grateful for his teeth. Several juncos were pecking around in the dust. How did one let go of this glorious earth? And what was it like in the great beyond? Was there a great beyond? It was the one thing Effie would never talk about. He looked around. Where was

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