All That Remains (Manere Book 1) Read online

  “Don’t you want to live in a place where the soccer fields have grass?” I said.

  “Grass is overrated. You need to mow it. Dirt is easy, and it takes zero effort to keep up. It’s all about dirt, Angie.” Lucy smiled.

  Lucy’s sarcasm was comforting. Though I worried there was sincerity in her love for dirt which wasn’t a good thing. When I first started spending a good amount of time with Lucy, in elementary school, I thought we were kindred spirits. She seemed to want to get out of Manere just as much as I did. Her waggishness made our weekly sleepovers all the livelier. We would watch movies or play board games while talking trash about girls from school, mostly Jessica Stafford the suck up and all-around brown-noser who would be considered a teacher’s pet, but the teachers couldn’t deal with her either. We would talk about boys we liked and the girls with whom we were feuding. The most memorable conversations were about our parents. Lucy lost her mom when she was ten, it was something that bonded us. This was three years before I would lose my dad, and I wanted to be there for her, and a part of me felt like I knew what she was going through even though I didn’t. At the time, I was genuinely terrified I would say the wrong thing, or that losing a parent was contagious and I, just like everyone at school, didn’t want it to rub off on them.

  “What do you think they have on them?” Lucy said.

  I looked at the far end of the field to see two police officers talking to a man and woman. Their aged skin would generally place them in their late thirties, maybe even their forties but knowing the town I grew up in, they were, most likely, no older than twenty-two.

  “I don’t know. Drugs?”

  “Totally drugs. Look at them. They have the drugged eyes, and they’re all twitchy. Probably meth.” Lucy explained.

  It was usually the drug of choice for those who chose to do drugs in Manere. It was the easiest to make in a town that denied entrance and exits while simultaneously being one of the single worst climates to grow anything worth smoking.

  “Nothing to see here. Always the same people. Why can’t they just kick their asses out of this place? My cousin told me that they used to have super strict guidelines here. Criminals were basically just banished. If they refused to leave, they would, like, hang them in the middle of Main Street or some shit like that. Talk about getting things done.”

  “Lucy, when exactly was this all going down? Like in the 1600s?”

  “No, this was like twenty years ago. Not long ago at all.” Lucy said with a devilish grin.

  “Your cousin? Andy? That guy makes stuff up all the time.”

  “It was Emily, actually.”

  “Oh, Emily. Little-miss-creates-drama-out-of-boredom? I really don’t think any of that is true. It sounds completely insane.”

  “I don’t know. I think it wouldn’t hurt to bring something like that back into common use. It sure would get rid of a lot of nasty people.” Lucy said.

  “If they shot every person down in Manere that wasn’t a worthwhile human being, there would just be rows of dead bodies lining the streets,” I suggested.

  Lucy crumpled her forehead. In that single expression, the feeling I had looming over me all school year came hurtling back. Lucy and I just weren’t as much alike as I once thought. Her being resistant to leaving town was one thing. It made sense that she felt safer in the confines of a town that included her dad, stepmom, two brothers, and a handful of cousins, aunts, and uncles. This was home for Lucy. It was never quite home for me.

  My parents moved to Manere when I was a baby. It was a job for my dad, nothing more. The only reason they knew anything about Manere was that my grandparents had lived there as children. It was where they had met and left together once they graduated high school. When my mom told her mother that we would be moving to Manere, there was understandable dissent. Grandma refused to accept the move, but my mom wanted to support my dad completely. They were struggling to find work. Mom had a newborn to watch over, and dad wanted to do his best to earn enough to take care of us even with his problems interacting with others. Mom always said I must have inherited his social anxieties. For years I thought she was insulting me, but I think she was, at least partly, pleased to have a daughter who questioned and feared the bizarre way people behaved toward each other. Not having any other family in Manere had made it easier to want to move. My mother becoming an absentee parent didn’t help matters.

  “Look, he’s not taking shit from her, either,” Lucy pointed out.

  One of the officers, Erikson I think was his name, had cuffed his fingers around the skittish woman’s wrist pulling her closer to say something in her ear. Her boyfriend just watched helplessly. The woman’s eyes barely reacted which probably had more to do with whatever she was on than what he was saying to her. Her free arm was extended as she flicked her wrist while holding a phantom cigarette. Her pursed lips fell slack, and the glare from the sun highlighted an unmistakable tear flowing from one of her eyes.

  The officer gave the woman her space. He then gave a cursory glance to her boyfriend and released a menacing smile. His immature gut bobbed from his deep chuckle. Erikson was one of the youngest officers in Manere and hadn’t achieved the comfortably inflated appearance that some older officers managed to attain. I was never sure if the police officers did anything considerably constructive or necessary. Perhaps, in the less crime-laden past, there was more physically fit police who held charge and order but just as the buildings and streets were becoming more decrepit, the authority figures certainly played by their own rules. Assuming there had been rules, to begin with.

  “Derek’s coming over tonight. Should be interesting.” Lucy said

  “Interesting? How interesting could it be with Derek? I’ve never had a decent conversation with the guy. Can’t believe that he made it out of high school.”

  “That’s a bit harsh. Besides, I don’t find his conversations to be the interesting part, and you know it. “Lucy. I thought you guys were trying to be friends. If you keep hooking up whenever you hang out, I feel like that wouldn’t be defined as a friendship”.

  “Luckily, I’m not that worried about maintaining our friendship.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m bored. Okay, Angie? Is it okay that sometimes I get bored and Derek just happens to cure that boredom from time to time? It shouldn’t affect you anyway?” Lucy stood with her hand on her hip offering a slouch with expectant eyes.

  “It’s fine. I know it’s fine. You are free to do what you want.”

  “Thanks, warden. Besides, if we were running the tallies, I would say you were a lot more bored than I was in the last few years. Like you were practically checking off every dude in the yearbook,” It wasn’t true, and I didn’t have the energy to ask her why she would say it.

  “Alright, well I better get going. In case Derek comes to my house, and I’m not there, and he gets confused and wanders to the neighbors”. I shook my head incensed.

  “He may have graduated high school, but it was in Manere. We’re not exactly churning out the best and the brightest” she laughed maniacally giving me a hug and skipped away with genuine school-girl spirit. No matter how earnest a conversation got with Lucy, her exit was always with levity.

  As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching me. I peeked my head over in the opposite direction of the soccer game and noticed Officer Erikson looking at me. His sunglasses giving off a reflection of cactus and chain-link fencing. What he may have been thinking under those aviators was anyone’s guess. Just like the other officers in Manere, he gave away nothing. I returned my gaze to the ground with my shadow as the only thing keeping me company as I made my way out of the park. I hurried to my busted old Chevy Nova that never locked. The blazing metal shocked my hand for only a second, and I prepared myself as I sat in the driver’s seat. Bracing for any bare skin that may come in contact with metal and pushed aside the excruciating pain of buckling up. I left my windows halfway down any time my car was in my line of vision
, but even when it wasn’t, the inability to lock it made putting up the windows unnecessary. It wasn’t like I ever expected rain showers. I placed the key in the ignition and turned the car over only to see officer Erikson walking briskly toward my car.

  “No, no. Don’t come over here. Please don’t come over here” I mumbled to myself.

  “How are you doing today, Miss. Abrams?

  “Just trying not to melt,” I said jocularly hoping the conversation would be nothing more than small talk.

  “Well, no luck with that one. This summer is supposed to be a scorcher. Record-breaking,” he looked up at the sky like he was seeking confirmation from the sun.

  The way people in Manere talked about the weather was a head-scratcher. It was hot every year. Being the desert and all, it got to be more than 110 degrees. Yet each summer everyone seemed to think it was something out of the ordinary. I could never be sure if the constant discussion of the heat, or the wind in the wintertime, was because of some form of amnesia. The way women forget the pain of childbirth just enough to be willing to do it again. It was the same for the residents of Manere. The unendurable heat and body-shoving wind were erased from their brains at the commencement of each season. I was one of the few who were spared the brain swipe. Whether that made me one of the lucky ones, I was never quite sure.

  “Anyway, I better get going” I sighed as if it tore me up inside to end our conversation so abruptly. Erikson put his hand on my open window.

  “I heard you were packing up soon. Is that right?” he asked while still looking out into the nothingness of the desert.

  “That’s the plan. Last week of August. Orientation week,”

  “That’s neat. You excited about being a real college girl are ya?” his tone was as confusing as ever, not sure if that was condescension in his voice or if that’s how he sincerely asked questions.

  “Yes, you could say that. I’ve always wanted to live on the east coast.”

  “What’s on the east coast that’s so great?” he asked with a firmer tone.

  I wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed or if I was prepared for continuing it at all. There had been different reactions over the months before graduation when declaring my plans. I knew for years what I wanted for myself, but it was only the last few months of high school when I felt free to share them with others, especially anyone outside my immediate friend circle. Some teachers gave me undecipherable nods. Mr. Douglas, who was my ninth-grade biology teacher and my senior advisor always was the most outspoken authority figure who never shied away from questionable language or suggesting activities utterly inappropriate for students ‘You shouldn’t smoke cigarettes if you have weed available. Weed is always king’ he would tell us. I loved Mr. Douglas for being honest and being one of the few educators who only moved to Manere after living sixty-four years of his life in a dozen other places. It made him have the kind of perspective on things I desperately craved. When I told him my plans to go to college in Pennsylvania, he said that I should do what makes me happy and that staying in Manere would only guarantee the loss of my soul and desire to live. It was a dark thing to say, but that was why I believed it. I could also see he was proud of me which was something else I desperately needed at the time. It gave me the final push to declare a formal intent to accept admissions.

  “I guess I just always wanted to live there. The grass, giant trees. The weather sounds like a welcome change.” I made a list of all the generic enticements that seemed to appease a surprising amount of people.

  “You know. If you leave, it’s going to be mighty difficult coming back.” Erickson said.

  “I know. My friends are always ragging on me about that. I’m sure I’ll come back for holidays and stuff. I’m not going to just disappear,” I assured him. Erikson gave out a single chuckle. His eyes continued fixed on the empty desert.

  “No. You know what I mean.” He finally looked directly at me.

  “Um, I’m not sure exactly what you mean,” I said

  “Well. You know the drill. You leave Manere, and that’s pretty much your prerogative but don’t expect us to welcome you back with open arms.”

  “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t really expect you to be welcoming me back with open arms. I’m sure my mom and friends wouldn’t mind seeing me though,”.

  “I thought this sort of thing would have been explained to you by your mother or teachers.”

  There was an unexpected silence between us. I began to speak but decided it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t the first time I was reminded of the Manere ultimatum. “I guess, I will just have to decide to go away forever then. I’ll be sure to give everyone I have ever known a nice long hug before I ride off into the sunset,” I acerbically informed him. Erikson made an indecipherable grunt.

  “Are we all done here?” I asked.

  “You have a good summer kid. Don’t go getting into any trouble. I know you aren’t one of those kids who likes to get drunk over at the dry lakebed.” Erikson leaned over pulling his shades a hair lower for effect, “one of these days something bad may happen out there in the middle of the desert and then how will all them friends feel about that? Not so good”. The smell of cinnamon gum masking his cigarette-breath engulfed my car.

  “I’m not sure I am really friends with those types of people but if I run into anyone with any plans like that, I’ll surely tell them that it would be very bad. Are we done here, officer?”

  “Yeah, we’re done here. You can calm that saucy tone with me. You got the same saucy tongue as that dad of yours. He didn’t seem to know when to nod and say yes sir, too.”

  I put my car in reverse and stomped on the gas not worried about where the officer’s feet were. As I exited the parking lot, Erikson remained in my rearview mirror fixated on the spot that my car had just been parked as if he was waiting for me to return.

  Chapter 3

  When I finally got my driver’s license six months before graduation, I thought it was going to be a level of freedom that would have absolutely no downside. Besides paying for my own gas and doing my own grocery shopping when mom was slammed at work and could barely make herself meals, let alone worry about feeding her practically done daughter, there were a few more downsides. I could usually get away with working odd jobs and babysitting during the school year, but with school out, it was up to me to hit the pavement and find a job for gas money among other things.

  Abigail Lewellyn was one of those friends who only suits the title in moments of desperation. I would call Abigail Abby when I entered the Hoagie’s Heroes sandwich shop as a way to remind her, I was a “friend” thereby getting my most relaxed foot in the door for a job that required the least amount of effort before taking off for college. Once I entered the eatery, I saw Abby near tears while some guy was spewing out orders along with noticeable remnants of whatever he last ate.

  “Hey, Abby. How’s it going?”

  The spewer looked up to question my presence. “This is work time, Abby, not social hour.” I turned to the spewer and put out my hand “Oh, hi. Are you the owner? I’m Angela Abrams, we spoke on the phone.” “You must be looking for Bob. He’s in the back. I’ll go get him”.

  “So, you must be the manager?” I said feigning innocence.

  “Uh, no. I’m Gabe. I just work here. Terry’s the manager, and Candice is the Assistant Manager, but she’s taking a quick lunch break.” He explained.

  “Oh. Silly me. I figured the way you were yelling at Abby like that meant you were in charge. It sounds like you don’t have any authority over her at all. Color me confused.”

  “You want me to share with Terry that attitude of yours? I will” he puffed out his chest and attempted a sly sneer but failed miserably.

  “What attitude? Gabe, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just came in here and introduced myself and asked if I could speak to the person in charge. When you told me, you oversaw the whole operation, I was confused, sure, but Abby informed me of the proper st
anding.”

  “She’s right. That’s exactly how it went” Abby said. We looked at each other with conspiratorial smiles.

  “I’ll get Bob,” Gabe said as he sulked away.

  Meeting with Bob ended up being less of an interview and more of a synchronizing of schedules. He knew my mom because that’s just the type of tiny town Manere always was. With the help of Abby’s praises, I was given a smock and a weekly schedule. The first eight hours were the training period for both teaching me how to make sandwiches and what I assumed was a probationary period. I wasn’t expecting to start that day but given the choice of no job and being thrust into work without warning I would have ordinarily chosen to walk away no questions. Since my mom’s guaranteed disappointment if I missed out on the opportunity triumphed over my laziness, I eagerly accepted the position.

  Chapter 4

  Hoagie’s Heroes may have been an easy job to attain and work but maintaining it was something else. Working long hours with Abby was going to be the tricky part because Abby was, for lack of a better term, a constant annoyance. In junior high, we spent a good amount of time together, and she was usually the first to count herself in during a sleepover. The problem with her being so eager to be a part of the sleepover was that she was afraid to engage in the typical sleepover activities. Whether it be seances, truth or dare, or light as a feather stiff as a board, Abby feared it. Maybe she feared the possible repercussions of the actual activity.

  Years after outgrowing slumber parties, she still managed to hold that fear in her eyes. I may have abandoned her in junior high but working at Hoagie’s Heroes was a way to earn back her trust. She could remember me as the girl who was always sticking up for her rather than the girl who was doing her best to scare her while she sat innocently in her jammies listening to ghost stories or sitting through whatever horror movie I picked up at the video store.

  “Abby, what are your plans now that we’ve graduated?” I asked, to make conversation since I had no idea what she had been doing in the four years since we stopped spending time together. Once Lettie, a friend who never seemed to attend more than 20 percent of the school year, but inexplicably moved on to the next grade stopped attending altogether, the tightknit slumber party gang of Lucy, Abby, Betsy Wickers, Lettie, and I drifted rapidly. It wasn’t wholly unexpected since we were moving on from elementary school pals to junior high buds to high school strangers, but the introduction of Rachel Duke was what really shook up the group. Once Lettie departed, and Rachel made an impenetrable mark it was clear that the team was something to remember fondly rather than an enduring proof of friendship.