Shattered 7

It seemed intrigue was beginning to agree with him. Norman did not consider it as 'deception' anymore-- it was survival. And it wasn't his fault, anyway-- Connie had driven him to this. And now, I am driving myself.

There was a sense of excitement as he fueled the car up at the corner station, and a slight 'rush' as he added the new suitcase full of his things to the rented storage locker. He stood for a moment, looking at the luggage and thought about taking it all with him now.

I could leave once and for all, today. Pack the car, stop at the bank and just keep driving after Oakland….

No, there was still a few loose ends that needed tidying up. He wanted nothing to go wrong once he made the final break and though the spontaneity was appealing, he fought the impulse. The locker door was secured, and he felt confident as he returned to his car. He was being a responsible adult, not an over-excited child. Still, he was feeling as wonderfully giddy as a boy when he drove away.

What would Connie think, when she got up and read the note? Would she call the police, thinking he'd had a psychotic break? And whose fault would that have been? You're not my keeper, Connie Bates-- not my lover, hardly a wife and that in name only until I get a lawyer. Go ahead and call the police-- and explain what you did at La Belle that may have pushed me over the edge. Of course, there was a break-- though not psychotic-- and she had instigated that long before La Belle.

Maybe she'd just be angry. Or rummage through the den for some hint of intention-- a piece of mail, a note, a receipt. More than likely she'd get indignant, maybe even depressed that he wasn't around to 'step and fetch' for her. It didn't matter-- at least for a few days she wouldn't be able to touch him. Like so much else, thought of her retreated to the realm of 'bad memories'.

It was going to be a long drive, but that was fine. There was some wonderful classical music on the radio, and every moment put more distance between him and that nightmare of 'home'. It struck Norman as remarkable that it was the first time in all his life he ever did something like this; to travel so far from home, alone, and of his free will. A wonderful teasing prelude to the escape that was to come.

He formed a plan as he traveled. He'd find a hotel nearest the bookstore where Laney O'Donnell would be appearing. He'd go to the bookstore the night before, maybe buy a few books for her to sign-- that would be perfect!-- and then turn in for a good night's sleep in a real bed. The next afternoon? He still had no actual 'game plan' for that-- other than going and actually seeing her in person. Would he talk to her and introduce himself? Would she remember? Did that even matter?

Is this what it felt like for fans back in the days of Beatlemania?

He chuckled, and then laughed out loud. Offenbach's 'Orpheus' filled the air-- 'can-can music' as he'd always called it, thanks to years of late night movies. The miles rolled away, the recent past grew dim as the hours ticked by, and Oakland beckoned like a lighthouse beacon through the endless fog of night.

Connie knows by now. She knows, she's read the note and she still doesn't believe it. She's calling around, neighbors and friends-- her friends. 'Anyone seen Norman? Anyone spoken to him?' She's even called work, maybe calling out for the night? Or was she supposed to be off anyway? Maybe she'll just ignore it. She'll figure, 'that's Norman, acting like a child again!' and go about her usual self-serving. egotistical, selfish business.

It almost bothered him for a moment, very briefly-- to think he might not be missed at all. Then, sobering reality that whatever she thought and did, it was no concern of his.

Connie had stared at the familiar scrawl, reading it again with her coffee. For a while, she blamed herself for having been so forceful the night before. If he was going to be that much of a child, she'd keep her distance. They were still husband and wife when all was said and done, with a third member of the family on the way. She had her baby to think about, and Norman's sudden exit for a few days might be what they both needed. She didn't have time to baby sit a grown man, and wondered if he realized how irresponsible he was being.

Her guilt soon passed, and she sighed in frustration. As a doctor, she had known from the start what obstacles they faced, with Norman's past. But she had baggage of her own, from a failed marriage and so many lonely, unhappy years. With that biological clock ticking away, Norman had been her last-- and only-- hope to start a family. She loved him of course, despite his stubbornness and irrational fears, but since the pregnancy was announced and regardless of the attention he paid, he was still struggling with it.

Connie smiled and rubbed her belly, soothing herself and the life she carried with more pleasant thoughts. If her husband continued to have his sullen moods, and these little unpredictable spells, well, there was always medication to consider. Failing that-- if he really needed time away-- perhaps further hospitalization would help.

Secretly, she promised the infant that should she ever be forced to make a choice, her baby would come first. That was as it should be.

By the time Norman arrived in Oakland, it was long after dark. He had driven straight through, and his legs were stiff and aching. The bookstore would be closing soon, so he made that stop before finding a hotel. He was tired and hungry and desperately wanted a bed to collapse in. Finding a table set with Laney's books revived him.

One by one he picked up the volumes, from children's picture books she'd illustrated herself, to the young adult series he'd recently read about. He smiled at the photos-- all different-- that smiled back at him on each cover and jacket. He even felt a surge of pride, reading the sign board and poster announcing tomorrow's special event.

There was a voice overhead, advising customers that the store would be closing in fifteen minutes, and that they should bring their purchases up to the check out counter. He made his decision quickly, gathering up an assortment of half a dozen books. The cashier smiled at him when he paid; more than the vague 'pasted on' smile the job required. She must have thought he was buying for every child in his family!

As he accepted his receipt and the oversized bag, he hurriedly asked about the nearest 'good' hotel.

"That would be the Park Grande, sir. Three blocks up, on the corner of 10th Ave."

Norman thanked the young woman and was on his way. Twenty minutes later he walked into room 403 and locked the door behind him.

Some room service, a shower, and books to read! It all seemed quite exciting to him, no matter how mundane it sounded.

One o'clock the next afternoon, there was a lot of activity in the bookstore. As predicted, the special appearance of Laney O'Donnell had generated quite a crowd.

Norman had walked from the hotel to the store, hugging two volumes snug under his arm. He had managed to wait until almost 2 before leaving his room, and had spent considerable time making himself presentable. He wasn't sure what to wear, and felt a suit and tie was too pretentious. He finally decided on comfortable and casual-- tweed jacket, black turtle neck and jeans. He then spent those three blocks mentally rehearsing something to say.

You're being a complete idiot! She's famous now-- well, famous in some circles. She's a grown woman with her own busy life-- and you're looking at a few weeks of a summer that's ancient history. She'll never remember you.

But that wasn't the point, really. While it was nice to imagine she might recognize his name-- if he ever had a chance to say it-- he would probably walk away with two autographed books, a smile and some well wishes. He could fantasize about whatever he liked-- and convinced himself that the important thing was simply to see her again.

There were dozens-- maybe hundreds-- of people, standing in a long line that seemed to wind its way back and forth down the aisles. Excited children of all ages, on the hands of parents or older siblings, chattered and laughed as they slowly progressed toward the table at the front. Norman tried not to appear anxious, as crowds always made him nervous. Gradually, he worked his way along the aisles, to a position at the end of a stack, just so he could get a glimpse of the day's main attraction.

There she was.

She was smiling, just like all of her photos, chatting pleasantly with a man and two young fans. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she had a pair of reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Except for these differences, he recognized the little girl who used to laugh and smile at him. She didn't notice him, of course, with all the faces, voices, and activity. He was concealed around the corner of a tall bookcase, and at least to one observer, seemed to be acting strangely.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

A rather gruff female voice at his shoulder made him jump in surprise. A short, heavy woman with close-cropped black hair stood beside him, grinning like a lascivious cat.

"Laney O'Donnell. A big hit with kids and parents alike." she added.

"Yes, certainly." Norman was not comfortable with this woman, and especially with her standing so close. He hugged his books tighter as if afraid she would snatch them away.

"You getting those signed for your kids?" She nodded toward the items tucked in his arms.

"Eventually." He managed half a smile. Whoever this person was, she wasn't entitled to know his personal business.

"I'm Sandy Chandler, Ms. O'Donnell's represenative."

"Really?" He couldn't imagine why this should matter to him, or why she felt the need to explain. "You must be pretty happy, on a day like today."

She shrugged, realizing this man was not overly impressed with her credentials. It didn't matter, really, as long as he kept buying Laney's books.

She turned away as if there were other things needing her attention, but not before offering a word of advice,

"You better get on line soon, it's not getting any shorter, and she's only here until 4."

Norman relaxed once the woman had gone, and then looked back toward Laney. Another happy family had appeared and she was reading a passage aloud with the youngest, who squealed in delight at the exchange. He nodded quietly, realizing it may take a full two hours for the line to be exhausted, and he headed off to find a place at the end of it.

It was a bit awkward at first, finding himself one of the few adults who did not have children in tow. But that didn't seem to bother anyone else, so why should it matter to him? The line inched along, and the woman in front of him, with two little girls, occasionally engaged him in conversation. How long was it going to be, how the kids loved these books, how glad she was that they discovered reading--- all comments to which Norman would smile and nod and maybe offer one or two words in agreement. He admitted to having no kids of his own but was there 'for a friend'. Gradually, the line moved close enough for him to overhear some of the conversations Laney had with her fans.

She was always polite, never rushed them off, listened patiently to every word, and modestly accepted praise with gracious thanks. Parents voiced their gratitude to her, for encouraging their children to read, and for producing such uplifting, positive works. There were times when Norman felt a sense of pride, or hid his laughter by turning his head, when the littler ones said something unexpectedly funny. Suddenly, he was next in line. The woman and her girls were already talking to Laney and getting their books signed. A wave of fear swept him. What was he going to say??

Just as suddenly, the happy family moved off with their treasures, and Laney's blue eyes were gazing up expectantly, bright and smiling.

"Hello!" she greeted.

Awkwardly, he stepped forward, and managed a crooked smile. She blinked for a moment as if that smile was…. familiar.

"Hello, M..Ms. O'Donnell. It's a pleasure t..to see you." He had stammered! He hardly ever stammered anymore! Laney's smile just seemed to widen at this, and he sighed in relief.

A quick observation told her he was without children. He presented his books proudly.

"You, sir, have a charming smile!" she giggled playfully. Norman couldn't help himself and laughed a bit, too. He was obviously all nerves. "A very special smile."

"That's one of your titles." he observed. Idiot! She knows that! He had seen the book yesterday, but it was not one he had purchased.

"Would you like these inscribed?"

He nodded vigorously, afraid he might stutter again if he spoke.

"Norman." He managed to say in one quick breath. Laney nodded took up her pen, and continued to chat while she signed.

"Are you originally from California?"

"Y..yes." He cleared his throat and looked around self-consciously. It would be unbearable if anyone was listening to a grown man stutter.

"Your smile." Laney looked up, before signing the second book. "It reminded me of someone. The reason I asked, I guess-- about where you grew up. His name was Norman, too." He also had big dark eyes and a stammer.

She remembers! She knows! Say something!

"And h..his family owned a m..m..motel."

Laney looked up from the second signature, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Norman?"

There was that smile again, and the nervous rapid nodding in agreement. Laney covered her mouth with one hand, unable to mask her surprise. Somewhere that Chandler woman's voice piped up.

"Laney-- what's wrong?"

"Oh my God! Norman!"

The guest author was now on her feet, reaching across the table and trying to hug the tall lanky stranger.

"Laney?" Chandler's voice was insistent.

"No, it's alright, Sandy. Norman is an old friend!"

It was impossible, even for Norman, to describe the rush of emotions that flooded his senses. The delight in seeing Laney again, the surprise that he'd been remembered-- the pride to be called 'an old friend'--plus the discomfort in knowing that others were watching; it was making him dizzy.

"I was s..sure you wouldn't--"

"Remember you? Don't be silly-- you are the Very Special Smile!" She would not release his sleeve, and shooed Sandy away before she could take a seat. "No, let Norman sit there." Her eyes looked back to Norman. "You will sit, won't you? Do you have some time?"

Norman nodded dumbly, and despite the disappointment to Sandy, took the chair beside Laney. She sat down again, patted his leg fondly, and handed his books to him.

"I can't believe it's really you!" she beamed. "Oh, there's so much to catch up on!"

He was speechless, but he couldn't stop smiling. She still had several more people to greet and dozens of books yet to sign, but she made him promise to stay put. There was no way she was going to let him out of her sight until they could have a chat. Meanwhile, the displaced Ms Chandler eyed the stranger from a safe distance, with arms crossed skeptically.

Something about this guy was giving her the creeps.