One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,36
me as the kind of person who would welcome the Manson family into her home for a nice supper.
Martha pulls me aside to show me pictures of her great-nephew, as preparation for the cuteness to come, while Jess and Herbert confer over whether or not we really have enough time to make it to their niece's house and back before the train leaves. I'd be offended at not being included in such calculations, except that I'm painfully aware of how useless I'd be. And anyway it's much more fun to oooh and aaah over babies.
Herbert explains that they'll just be walking to the house from the train, since they live so close that it seems silly to ask anyone to leave the baby to come pick them up. Jess decides that we can make it, but it'll be close. “It's kind of silly, really,” he points out. “We'll have to turn around and leave ten minutes after we get there.”
“But it'll just be nice to get out of the roomette for a little while. And see the baby,” I add hastily, glancing at Martha.
Jess shrugs. “Okay then.”
As the train pulls into the Hastings station, I'm practically jumping up and down I'm so excited to be on non-metallic land.
“Did you know that Kool-Aid was invented here?” Martha announces as she and Herbert lead the way to her niece's house. I try not to laugh. Oddly enough, I had figured that out already, since there are signs everywhere with the creepy Kool-Aid Man on them celebrating Kool-Aid's 80th anniversary. “They have annual Kool-Aid Days every August, and people come from all over to-—”
“Drink Kool-Aid?” Jess inquires. I glance at him and see the amused quirk in the corner of his mouth, but his voice is perfectly polite.
“Among other things,” Herbert says dryly. “Although they do have a Kool-Aid Drinking contest.”
“Of course,” Jess says.
“They have the world's largest Kool-Aid stand,” Martha continues. “Last year it served almost 2,400 gallons of Kool-Aid, all the different flavors. And rides and games and things. It's ranked in the Top 100 Best Events in North America.”
I'm actually genuinely sad that I won't be in Hastings in August. This sounds like the most hilarious thing ever. I guess I could come back—it's not like I have any plans. And by then I'm sure I'll be able to figure out how to get from place to place without making such a mess of things.
Martha pauses for breath and Herbert holds her around her waist. She looks up at him, smiling. “I've been talking so much I need a rest,” she says.
He pats her arm. “It's not far now. Martha had hip surgery a few months ago,” he explains.
“Can I carry your bag, so you can help her along a little more easily?” Jess offers. We left all our stuff in the roomette, and I notice suddenly how weird it is to see him walking around without his giant duffel bag across his shoulders. He perches Herbert's hard shell Samsonite on top of his head. The guy is just incapable of carrying a bag the regular way.
“Bee, where's your bag?” Jess asks suddenly.
I flush. “I, uh, I left it in the roomette. It's heavy!” I say defensively. “And I didn't think I should be carrying around that much cash.”
Jess rolls his eyes. “Right, because I'm sure the crime rate in Hastings, Nebraska is just off the charts. I hope you locked the roomette.”
“I did,” I say airily. But I pat my pocket for the keys just in case.
Martha's niece's house is a neat little A-frame. It needs a few coats of paint, but there are geraniums in the window boxes, and the lawn out front is mown to within an inch of its life. Herbert helps Martha up the front steps, and the door opens before they've even had a chance to ring the bell.
“You're here!” A woman who must be Martha's sister pulls her into a hug. “Thank God. The baby is crying and I have no idea what's wrong.” She tugs Martha into the house, completely ignoring the rest of us.
“That's Martha's sister Sally,” Herbert says unnecessarily. He leads the way into the house, and Jess sets the Samsonite down near the front door. When we turn the corner into the living room, Sally is looking down anxiously at her daughter, who looks exhausted but calm. She is nursing the baby, and gives us a tired wave.
“Come on in,” she says. “Hi, Uncle Herbert. Hi there,” she calls