Page 5 of Darling

“Oh crap, I forgot it’s not the weekend. I probably won’t have class until next Tuesday,” Wendy said. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts. What’s up?”

“My mom said we can meet up unsupervised if she has some sort of weird conference with your parents. Do you know if they’re free any time in the next couple of days?”

“Not until Sunday,” Eleanor replied. “My parents are at work right now, then after work we’re going to some Friday night church thing. Then on Saturday we’re going apple picking before it gets too cold. Maybe Saturday night might work? I’ll ask.”

“Apple picking with your parents? Your life is so wholesome. I still can’t believe my mom’s making us go through this.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great,” Eleanor said quickly. “I’ve gotta go. My homeroom teacher is looking directly at me and can clearly tell that I’m on the phone. Call you later.”

Eleanor hung up.

“DOES SATURDAY NIGHT WORK FOR YOU?” Wendy shouted out her open bedroom door.

“Saturday night is your father’s work party,” Mrs. Darling called up the stairs. “How is Sunday?”

“SHE SAID SHE’LL LET US KNOW,” Wendy shouted back. She chewed her lip for a bit and then continued. “THEY GO APPLE PICKING TOGETHER, YOU KNOW. THIS IS WHO YOU’RE BARRING ME FROM SEEING. A GIRL WHO GETS EXCITED TO PICK APPLES WITH HER PARENTS.”

“Are you getting ready to pick up Nana?” Mr. Darling asked. “You’ve got ten seconds to get dressed or we’re coming up. One … two…”

Wendy pushed her door closed and shoved on jeans and a sweater. She got her feet into her shoes just in time for Mr. Darling to knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Mr. Darling headed straight to her window and started jimmying the latch. “This is really broken.”

“I wouldn’t lie about my window being broken, Dad,” Wendy said dryly.

“No, I meant this is really, really broken. I don’t know if I can fix this by myself. The latch on the back of the window was pried off from the outside. We might have to replace the whole frame. Do you want to sleep in the other room for a while?”

Wendy shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll just … put books in front of it like I did yesterday. We can figure out the window situation when things aren’t so stressful.”

Mr. Darling huffed and leaned back against the windowsill. He watched her as she pulled on her jacket and hat. “Thanks for being a good sport. I’ll make it a priority.”

He was lingering, so Wendy turned around to face him.

“You know,” Mr. Darling continued, “your mom and I just want to make sure you’re safe. Anything can happen out here. It’s not like back home where most people know each other…”

“I’m seventeen, Dad. I get it,” Wendy said.

“And there are a lot of things out there that you haven’t experienced,” Mr. Darling finished.

Wendy scowled. This wasn’t her fault. Maybe if they let her out to experience things more, they wouldn’t have to be worried about her “experiencing things.” But it didn’t seem like the best time to say that so she just stayed quiet.

Eventually, Mr. Darling nodded at her open bedroom door. “Go on. Mom’s waiting. She’d never admit it, but she’s nervous about riding the trains again. Can you be a darling and help her out?”

Wendy walked to the top of the stairs, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “Sure. I’m going to college next year; I can handle a train.”

Nana’s kennel fit neatly in the area near the back of the train car, and she was behaving very well. The woman at the train kiosk had eyed the crate warily as Mrs. Darling and Wendy hoisted it over the turnstile. Nana had remained silent the entire time, paws folded primly, so the woman had held her tongue and allowed them to continue.

Mrs. Darling sat next to Nana, her hand tightly clenching the bar next to her seat. Her eyes were glued to the map above the door with the words PURPLE LINE TRAIN above a list of train stops; she was running over the map with near-religious persistence. Wendy stood by the doors so she could watch the city. Mrs. Darling had been so nervous on the ride over to the airport that Wendy felt responsible to make sure they got off at the right stop and couldn’t really relax and take everything in, so she was using the opportunity to do so now. She couldn’t really understand why her mom was so antsy; the system was simple enough.

Each train had approximately eight to ten cars. Each car had a door on each side for traveling between the cars if necessary. The trains ran both ways at about the same pace. That way, if you got off at the wrong stop, you could easily transfer to the other side of the train platform and head right back in the direction you came from. All the stations had people to assist you on the platform itself and where you purchased tickets. You only needed one ticket to get past the turnstile, but once you were through, you could ride the trains all day in any direction, transferring from line to line on the $2.50 it took to get in.

It was a much better system than the one they’d had to endure on their trip to Europe last year, where you had to pay based on distance. Chicago made it easier to get lost without any real financial consequences.

Wendy glanced back at her mother, who was clutching the bar behind the seat so hard her brown knuckles were beginning to go yellow from stress.