Chapter seven, Freedom Present. Hannah has been on her ass all morning.
The kids are running around like hooligans, screaming and fighting. Outside her window,
Freedom sees Lydia in A two attempting to turn on the hose that snakes
through the brush and cacti at the side of the house in order to cool
off from the heat. Lydia is wearing a T shirt and bathing suit bottoms,
and A two is naked. The high pitched screams each emit is enough
to drive her insane. Pair that with Hannah's constant nagging, and Freedom feels
downright suicidal. It is Sunday morning, not quite ten am, and already
the trailer is a circus. She barges into the living room and finds Harry
on the couch rolling a joint. I will pay you for a hit of
that. Harry shakes his head no and makes a clucking sound with his tongue.
No way, Jose, this is my weed. Go get your own,
Harry. Come on, these kids are driving me crazy. Sorry,
no can do. I got to head out to the reservation in a few
minutes. Helping Johnny move. Johnny is a friend of the family who recently
went through a divorce. Freedom guesses this is the day Johnny is finally getting
kicked out of his house. Whatever. Down the hallway, Freedom can hear
the faint ping of her cell phone. She has a text. Who's that?
Harry asked, distractedly, none of your business. Freedom dashes off down
the hall to retrieve her phone. Maybe it's the weed fairy with a delivery
for you, Harry yells. After her retreating back, Freedom slams her bedroom
door shut and flings herself down onto her unmade bed, digging through the sheet
and thin blanket for the cell phone that is buried underneath. She finally finds
it and swipes her hand across the cracked screen. It is a text from
her friend Niewa from the reservation. It reads rummage sale at the Hualapai Baptist
Church You in? She types back hell yes. Freedom tosses the phone back
and forth between her hands as she impatiently waits for her reply. It comes
through one minute later. Dude kidding, She writes back, I'm not.
I'll pick you up. I gotta get out of here. Two minutes later,
dude sounds dire. Come scoop me. I have a special treat for
you. Freedom types back with one thumb as she balances the phone in her
hand and grabs her car keys with the other. Tell me it's something I
can smoke, Niewa writes back better. As she is heading for the side
door. Harry looks up from the couch again, where do you think you're
going to? Niewas not with the truck? You're not? I need it?
What four? Freedom is exasperated to move, Johnny, we need a
truck. You think I'm going to carry all of his stuff on foot to
his new place? Fuck? Freedom runs her hands through her hair. Have
Niwah come get you. Harry is gingerly taking the keys out of her hands,
as if he is afraid Freedom will strike at him like a snake.
I will tell Johnny maybe he shouldn't have cheated on his wife like all the
time, and maybe he wouldn't have to move. I'll be sure to tell
him that. Harry plasters on a smile and puts up a hand to wave
to Freedom. As she leaves, Freedom texts Niwa to come get her instead,
and within twenty minutes she arrives. As she pulls up in her black
beat up nineteen ninety seven, Jetta, Niwah pulls up her red T shirt
and flashes Freedom. She has no bra on underneath. This is Niwah's signature
move her calling card of sorts. Niwah, meaning fourth in Native American,
is the fourth child born to old school and literally old Native American parents.
She has two brothers and one sister, who were all born at least a
decade before Niwah. Niwah was a surprise and her mom was forty seven years
old when she had her. Her dad was fifty five. Because of the
age of her parents and the fact that her mom and dad thought that they
were done having children, Niewah raised herself with virtually no discipline. She is
a wild child who has no regard whatsoever for anyone else. This is why
she and Freedom are friends. Niwah is one year younger than Freedom. Lives
with her mom and dad on the reservation and work sixty miles away at the
Aquarius Casino resort in Laughlin, Nevada, dealing cards. Aquarius is the closest
casino to the reservation, seeing as the Hualapies don't have their own. Niwa
works there in order to meet single white men or non single white men doesn't
matter their relationships status. If they're white and of the male gender, Niwa
will try to sleep with them. Most of the time she succeeds. It's
like a Pocahonas thing. You know, all men have the Pocahonas fantasy.
She would often explain to Freedom. They like to fuck Indian chicks with braids
in their hair and a feather headband. The chick with war paint on her
face who doesn't speak English makes them feel like John Smith conquering shit. Freedom
believed her it was either that or her big boobs. She slept with a
lot of men, and right now those boobs are staring Freedom in the face.
She jumps in the passenger seat, puts her feet up on the dashboard,
and closes her eyes. Niewah interrupts her immediately. Hello, bitch,
aren't you going to say anything? Hi, that's it, Thanks for the
ride. Freedom opens one eye and quickly glances over in Niewa's direction before closing
it again. She is still holding up her top. No about my tits,
I've seen them a zillion times, knee, but look, Vanilla,
there's something different. Freedom opens both eyes and glances in the direction of the
driver's seat, she sees Niewa smiling broadly from ear to ear and eight inches
down glittering on her right nipple is a hoop with diamonds in it. Nipple
ring, Freedom exclaims with disgust mixed with appreciation. Do you love it?
Niewa adjusts the rear view mirror in order for her to take in the view
herself. You have to love it. It's different, it's everything. You're
just jealous. I am, yeah, what was the surprise you said you
had? Niewa pounce and finally pulls down her T shirt with a sigh.
Guess you're all business today. Well you're going to love it. She turns
around in the seat, throwing her body to reach for a black backpack that
is sitting on the back seat. After rummaging around in the front pocket for
a few seconds, she triumphantly holds up a small plastic baggie with six small
round discs in it. Shut up, Freedom says, they are payote uttons.
Where did you get these? My brother again knee while winks at her.
I don't know how he gets them, but I don't ask. I
just pay him and he gets me some. He's cool, great, Freedom
swings her feet off the dash and rolls down the window. It's so hot.
Maybe when I trip, I can be somewhere where there's snow or at
least air conditioning. What are we going to do after we take these?
We're going to the church rummage sale. Dude, I told you I thought
you were kidding. How no tripping in a church? Are you kidding me?
It's awesome? Okay, fine with me, Freedom yells out to Lydia
and A two, who are still playing in the yard. Hey. The
two kids run over to the car, Freedom continues, Can you guys go
get me a knee a bottle of water from the house. Please? Jumps
up and down and shouts yes, while Lydia crosses her arms over her chest.
What are you going to give me for it? Lydia smirks, Niewa
answers up, beating you little shit? Now go? The kids run off?
Who have such a way with kids? Freedom says, I know.
The kids return, and Freedom hands them each two quarters that she finds a
Niwa's cupholder. Lydia and A two should be able to buy themselves each an
ice cream from the ice cream truck. With that, Niwa plomps the six
tabs into the bottle of water and swishes it around for a few seconds.
While they wait for the disk to dissolve. They chat. You don't get
to work today, do you? Niwa inquires a Freedom, finally opening the
lid of the bottle and chugging half the liquid. She hands the rest to
Freedom. Nope, Freedom replies, chugging the rest of the water, not
until tomorrow. The drive to the church is a quick one, only a
few miles, so Freedom and Niwah sit in the car waiting for the drug
to take effect. Thirty minutes later, Freedom starts to feel the effects and
looks over to Niwah, who nods her head. I'm there, Niwah says,
raising her hands and touching the roof of the car. Let's go inside.
Freedom follows her up the walkway to the church. As they near the
heavy wooden door, she notices the knocker on the door has turned into a
large green frog that tries to lunge out and bite Nihah's face. As she
reaches out her hand to tug on the doorknob, watch out, Freedom knocks
into Niwah, pushing her to the side and clymbing at the air, tries
to bat down the non existent frog. The frog Niwah just laughs and,
as if in a trance, breezes past Freedom to open the door and step
inside the church. They enter through the front doors, each girl wandering aimlessly
as they feel the pews, the stone floor, anything they can put their
hands on. Niwah heads off to the front of the church and Freedom stays
behind, wondering why there are rainbows clouding her vision. She swipes at them,
trying to feel them tangible in her hands. She hears music playing from
somewhere beyond the back wall. It is organ music, so she looks towards
the instrument, wondering who is playing the pretty solo. She sees that the
organ bench is empty. She walks up the center aisle, catching sight of
Niwha's sitting in the front pew. She joins her, resting her behind precariously
on the edge of the seat. Niewah's eyes are closed and her head is
thrown back. Freedom pats her on the head, telling her to sleep.
All of a sudden, Niwa's eyes are open and she is laughing again.
Freedom suddenly gets dizzy and stumbles to her feet. Let's go, She says,
pulling at her friend's arm. Rumor sale. Rumor sale right. Niwa
agrees with her, obediently following her through a side door with a yellow sign
taped to it with an arrow and the words rummage sale. The Hualipied church
puts on its rummage sale twice a year. It is a yard sale of
sorts, a chance for the tribe to make a few dollars by selling old
clothes, toys, games, and equipment to anyone who comes along. Mostly,
it is just other Hualipies themselves who buy the used merchandise. It functions
as more of an exchange of goods than anything else. The room is busy,
with mostly mothers and their babies picking through the less than desirable items.
Freedom sees one of the tribe leaders, a man named boat Away, manning
one of the change stations where the money is kept. Freedom is too high
to talk to anyone, so when boat Away waves hello, she just pushes
past him. Niewa has stopped to talk to him. Freedom wonders how that
is going to go. She walks among the tables, almost falling into a
woman carrying a baby in a papoose on her front. The baby smiles and
laughs as Freedom goes by. The woman seems less amuse. Freedom pays them
no attention. She is focused on the toy table in the far corner.
Among the other stuffed animals and used barbie dolls, sits a teddy bear,
or what she thinks must be a teddy bear. The images swim before her
eyes, and she makes her way over to take a closer look. When
she reaches the table, she hurriedly clears away all of the toys around the
bear. It is beckoning to her Strangely, A Huallapie boy crouches behind the
table, popping up to inspect the bear more closely. He turns it around
toward him and starts to pull a string on its back. Freedom holds her
breath, wondering what is going to happen next. The boy and Freedom watch
in amazement as suddenly the bear begins to move, shaking and trembling. When
a garbled noise emits from the teddy bear, Freedom lunges toward it, scaring
the boy and he begins to cry. The noises melt together into a terrible
song, crashing and blending the boy's cries, the bear's guttural garbled noises.
Freedom thinks she hears the bear saying, I really enjoy talking to people,
and she puts her hands over her ears. It is too much for her.
The screams all around her, the crazy bear starting to shake. It
trembles and talks, but its eyes are the most irving. They blink slowly,
navy blue, staring at her through her Suddenly, lightning bolts rip from
its eyes, and it seems to Freedom that one of the bolts hits the
boy on the forehead. Flames begin to sizzle and shoot out of his head.
He runs away, leaving a trail of blue flames behind him. The
noises get louder. Freedom backs away, slowly, searching for Niewhile as she
begins to panic, the bear is taunting her, holding its hands out toward
her as it shakes and blinks. Its face is the devil. It is
coming for her. Her head begins to turn slowly, and exorcism of sorts
memories flash before Freedom's eyes, memories she can't comprehend. Flashes of people and
things, arms reaching out and finding nothing. Freedom's breath catches in her throat
and her hands go up to her neck as she claws at herself. Ying
to push the memories away, she bumps into a table and all but ducks
in fear, the bears gaining on her, flying through the air wildly,
somersaulting it hovers in mid air, puts its stuffed bear paws on either side
of her head, tilts its own and repeats over and over in a sing
song voice, Hi there, Hello there, Tell me a joke? Please?
Can we be friends? Tell me? Can we be friends? Freedom
screams, and then the world goes dark. Chapter eight Martin past Martin had
been good friends with Ricardo Hernandez, Senator from the great State of California,
for a few years. Both men were members of Congressional Country Club, and
Ricardo had sought him out one day on the gall of course, he and
two other senators had needed a fourth and Martin had agreed. Ricardo beat him
at golf, and Martin was impressed. He was used to winning, but
choked that one off to the fact that Ricardo was from southern California and there
those bastards could play golf all year round. As Ricardo outdrove and outputted him
and pretty much all around outplayed him, he talked to Martin about his hedge
fund. The senator had heard of Martin's successes and wanted in. That was
back when the fund was doing well. Ricardo took to calling him Marty,
which Martin couldn't stand, but he figured he could make an exception for a
rich senator who could hook him up with more contacts. More contacts meant more
money, and Ricardo was a powerful man around town. Born in San Isidro
to poor Mexican immigrants, Ricardo Hernandez had worked his way up to the top.
A smart man and hard working, he had made a lot of money
in real estate in Florida before entering the political circle. He won the congressional
Republican primary in his state, easily gaining the support of most of the Mexicans
there. From there it was on to the Senate, where he had held
the exalted seat for the last ten years. Ricardo needed someone with whom to
entrust his millions from his real estate deals all those years ago. He had
a broker, but was in need of a switch, or so he told
Martin as they sipped beers in the clubhouse after their round. It was then
that their friendship was born. Martin gladly took Ricardo's millions and invested them in
the hedge fund. All was well for a while until everything started to go
downhill, and when it did, Martin was forced to actively avoid the Senator
at all costs. They used to play golf once a week, but ever
since the ship had hit the fan and Martin had lost all of his and
everyone else's money, he had been making up excuses every Wednesday for months.
His wife kept asking him why they were avoiding Congressional They used to go there
at least twice a week for dinner or to dip in the pool, but
Martin had expressly forbid her from setting foot there for the past two months.
He didn't like doing it, it was a necessity for the time being,
just until he got back on his feet. One Wednesday, when Martin was
sitting at his desk trying to come up with yet another excuse to get out
of golfing with the Senator, he called his work line Ricardo. Martin feigned
enthusiasm to what do I owe this pleasure of you calling me at work?
Marty, He barked into the phone. Glad I caught you before you give
me yet another bullshit excuse about why you can't come golf with me to day.
I need you to promise to meet me at one o'clock at the grill
room. I'm taking you to lunch. Ricardo, I wish I could,
but you see, Martin was cut off by the senator's next words, I
must insist I have a business proposition for you. Martin was about to try
to bow out again, but stopped himself. He was intrigued by the senator's
words, and he had to admit it sounded promising. Ricardo Hernandez was a
connected man and could be able to help him out of this slump. Martin
decided to go. He could face the club members again, no matter that
a lot of them had invested millions of dollars with him, and for the
time being, Martin had lost those millions. It was a temporary problem,
Martin assured himself, and he also didn't like feeling like so much of a
pussy. He would walk into the grill room with his head held high and
shake hands with everyone and look them in the eye. After all, they
were still his friends. They had no idea that Martin had run into some
money troubles and that his business was going through a rough patch. It was
none of their business. Anyway. Martin talked himself up during the twenty minute
drive to the club, and when he arrived for lunch, he felt pumped
up and ready to face the world by the time he reached the door to
the grill room, though, that feeling promptly dissipated. The minute he caught
sight of Ed Jenkins at a table with two other men. He felt the
panic begin to rise in his throat. Ed was also one of his investors,
and Martin wanted to avoid him like the plague, so he walked all
the way around the room to join Ricardo at his table, who was seated
in the back, simply in order to avoid Ed. So much for the
pep talk he had given himself two minutes ago. As he approached Ricardo's table,
Ricardo stood up from his seat to greet him and stuck out his hand.
They shook, and both men sat down at the table. Senator,
nice to see you. You was well, Martin. It's been a long
time. Ricardo's accent was lilting and pronounced, you have been avoiding me.
No, I haven't. Martin tried to interject, but Ricardo waved his hand
dismissively. Martin noticed that for the first time, Ricardo had used his full
name instead of calling him Marty. Martin thought that could not be a good
sign you have, my friend. It is of little importance to me,
though I would do the same if I were a man in your position.
Martin balked what position he felt, his body beginning to get uncomfortably hot.
The position of losing much investor money in your fund. Ricardo winked at him
and signaled to the waiter nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in
the world. Martin was floored. How did the senator know about his losses?
As if reading his mind, Ricardo continued as the waiter made his way
towards their table. You are now wondering how I know these things, Martin.
I have been in this town for a long time, and I am
a very good read of people. I have people around who help me to
find out things that I need to know. Ricardo paused as he turned to
the waiter and ordered two grouper sandwiches and two beers, one for himself and
one for Martin, without even asking his friend what he might like. Ricardo
was a very take charge individual, as the waiter walked away, Ricardo continued,
I must tell you, Martin, I am not pleased that your business
is not doing well and that you seem to have lost my money. But
this is not what I am least pleased about. I am least pleased about
the fact that you would not come to me as a man and look me
in the eye and tell me. Martin was taken aback. He didn't know
what to say. I will say though, that despite all of these things,
I still would like to put my trust in you. I need a
man for a job, and I think you are the man to do it.
What do you say, what's the job? Martin asked. It involves
some cleaning of money. Martin was less shocked by the fact that the senator
was asking him to launder money, and more shocked by the fact that he
was asking him to do so out in the open at the gruel room at
Congressional Country Club. He wasn't even keeping his voice down. The balls on
this guy, Martin thought, you had to hand it to him. Ricardo
continued, I have some contacts in Mexico. These are good men, my
countrymen that need some help with their business as well. I am not at
liberty to say at this time what the business is, but just know it
is very lucrative, and if you help me and them, it could be
very lucrative for you as well. Martin. I am sure you will be
wanting to help me in any way you can, considering it seems as if
you may owe me some money after losing much of it. Is this correct,
Martin? Ricardo winked again as the waiter delivered two plates of group or
sandwiches with fries to the table. Martin bowed his head and waited until the
waiter left to look at Ricardo. Martin felt Ricardo's pen a trading stare and
clearly understood the veiled threat In his words, Martin realized he could kill two
birds with one stone, work for Ricardo to pay his debt to the man,
and at the same time make back the money he owed his other investors.
Martin didn't know what kind of business Ricardo's friends ran, but he didn't
assume it was good or legal. That was fine. What he didn't know
couldn't hurt him. He was more than happy to be kept in the dark
and operate under the ignorance is bliss mantra seemed as if the Senator wasn't as
squeaky clean as his image may have conveyed. This impressed Martin in a perverted
way. It made him like the man more. As he ate and Ricardo
droned on Martin half listening, came up with a plan for the money.
He could first pull what they called a pump and dumb scheme. Martin would
take the money and invest it in a shitty penny stock, one that was
practically worthless, in a little known company. That stock would be cheap and
would cost him next to nothing. He would then talk up the stock,
thereby inflating the price of it through his misleading and false statements. Once everyone
got wind of how great it was, everyone would follow suit and invest more
money in the company. At the peak point, Martin would then sell his
shares, making back his money, and then some the stock would fall,
leaving the rest of the investors with shares worth very little. Then he could
set about laundering the money. Ricardo finished his sandwich, wiping his mouth and
leveling his gaze on Martin. So, Martin, my friend, do we
have a deal. We have a deal? Martin stuck his hand out to
shake his friends for the second time that day. Ricardo stood up from the
table, apologizing to Martin for his hasty exit, explaining that he was late
for his tea time with the senators with whom Martin used to play. He
assumed Ricardo had found a fourth man, as Martin was not invited. As
he watched him walk away, he felt a sense of hope begin to bloom
inside of him. He could finally see the light at the end of the
tunnel. He was startled to look over and find Ed Jenkins was standing next
to his table. He stuck his hand out to Martin and Martin shook it,
no longer afraid to talk to him. Martin, how you've been haven't
seen you around for a while. Yeah, I've been busy. How are
things, Ed continued, how's the fun doing? I assume you haven't lost
all of my money yet? Ed laughed. Things are looking up, Ed
Martin smiled. Things are looking very, very good, And for the first
time in a long time, Martin meant the words he said. Chapter nine,
Jessica Present. Jessica doesn't love law school. She loves fighting and being
powerful and intimidating people, so law school is merely a means to an end
in her quest to become a lawyer. After graduating from college at Barnard,
where she reveled in the fact that there were no men to rival herself appointed
power or her intimidation strategies, she moved into a sublet thirty blocks south and
twelve blocks east of campus in Manhattan and took the New York State Bar in
July of that very same year. This was in complete rebellion against her college
counselor's wishes. The counselor had counseled Jessica that no one takes the bar as
just an undergrad one needs to go to law school first, But Jessica paid
her no mind. She had read enough law books recreationally over the past four
years, and she was smart enough. Or so she thought. She was
ready to start her career as a prosecutor for the great State of New York,
and she didn't need law school to do so. She was confident she
could pass. She failed. Miserably Discouraged, she set about applying to law
schools within the area. Jessica focused on the law schools that were not only
accredited, but renowned and known for their academics and for churning out great lawyers.
She finished her applications to Columbia, NYU, and Fordham with a flourish
sure she would be admitted to one of those top tier law schools. On
a whim and for a laugh, she applied to Pace Law School in White
Plains, New York in order to appease that idiot counselor who suggested she also
applied to a safety school because you never knew, Jessica only got in to
Pace. Disappointed and bitter, Jessica would tell her tale of woe concerning her
unfair law school admission status to anyone who would listen. This included her mother,
whom she would call once a week, and from time to time the
random stranger who was unlucky enough to sit next to her on the thirty five
minute Metro North train ride from Grand Central station to the White Plain stop four
days a week. Lamenting her fate, Jessica would turn to strangers for sympathy
because she didn't really have any friends. She rarely received it. As Jessica
sits in her classes towards contracts, procedure, constitutional law, corporations, and
legislation, she dreams of the day she can here before the judge and jury
and put criminals like her own father away for life. Everyone will listen to
her, everyone will respect her, and everyone will praise her for bringing justice
to the scum of the earth. It is one of the only thoughts that
gets her through her days at this ship for brains. Law school today is
towards class and as the professor drones on and on about examples of civil legal
liability, Jessica looks down at her phone and notices the screen light up.
It is her mother calling. Jessica realizes she forgot to call her yesterday.
She had been at the criminal law firm where she works two afternoons a week.
Goldberg an Associates law firm had hired her on after she offered to work
for them for free. She tried like hell to get a paying job at
a real law firm, but no firm she contacted was hiring first year law
students. The second and third years had snapped them all up. So the
minute Jessica hinted at the fact she would be willing to work without pay,
Goldberg and Associates was more than happy to welcome her aboard. One of the
good things about GNA or possibly The only good thing is that it has offices
in Manhattan, albeit in the Bronx and in White Plains, so Jessica is
able to bounce back and forth between the two. Jeff Goldberg, who owns
the firm, interviewed her for the job and asked her why she would want
to work, especially for free, for a criminal defense law shop when she
wanted to be a prosecutor. Jessica had told him that her father had always
taught her that one must force oneself to consider arguments on the other side.
Only then, when one can argue better against oneself than others can, has
one done the work to hold an opinion. True understanding of one's work resides
in the understanding of the other side. Jessica didn't really believe this. She
thought it was total bullshit, but Jeff seemed to like it. He told
Jessica she was something else. He then asked if she was a lesbian.
While she found this inappropriate and most likely illegal for a would be employer to
ask of his would be employee, Jessica was not phased by the question.
She got it all the time. She didn't look like a lesbian. It
was just the fact that she graduated from an all girls school. It was
probably also attributed to the fact that Jessica just oozed male gender hatred and had
a permanent resting bitch face. She figured this was par for the course though
for female attorneys. Jessica told Jeff that no, she wasn't a lesbian.
She simply wasn't interested in either sex romantically, and that it was more of
a complete hatred of men in general that she held on a day to day
basis. Jessica hated all other women too, but she felt that was better
left unsaid at the time. Jeff Gafad told her that was great because most
of our clients are men, and told her to come in to start work
the next afternoon at two pm. Hence GNA was where she was as part
of her normal Thursday afternoon routine. When her mother had called yesterday, Jessica
had ignored the call, and now she is calling again. Jessica again ignores
the call, swiping her forefinger over the little red phone emoji and then to
the left. She has just gone back to listening to the professor when the
phone buzzes again, this time with a text from her mother, call me,
It implores of Jessica. She is getting dirty looks from the students around
her, so Jessica sighs, closes her computer and grabs her backpack. She
stuffs the laptop inside as she bangs through the doors into the hallway. Sitting
down on the hard wooden bench outside the classroom, she clicks again on the
phone, this time on the green phone emoji. After half a ring,
her mother picks up Jessica. She says into the phone, a note of
panic in her voice. Christ mom, Who else would it be? Jessica
is annoyed. Her mother is the reason she is missing class. Jessica,
there is a problem. What's wrong? There is a pause on the other
end of the line, and Jessica grows impatient. She's about to tell her
mother to hurry up spit it out, but before she can, her mother
speaks, with a tremor in her voice. Your father is missing. Jessica
is infuriated. Not this again, she thinks, you mean Martin, Mom,
you got me out of torts for this. No, he's not.
What's a tort? Never mind. Jessica is about to end the conversation and
is heading towards the door to the classroom. This happens all the time.
When are you going to realize that this is how he is. He's not
missing, He's gone away on purpose. This time is different. It's never
different, mom, You know that. Come on, Martin Walker does what
he wants and always has. Jessica, I am telling you this time is
different. The tremor in her mother's voice has increased to the point where Jessica
thinks her mother is going to start crying. This is not ideal, as
Jessica gets extremely uncomfortable when people cry around her. How So, Ica snaps
at her mother, hoisting her backpack over her right shoulder and resting her hand
on the bar on the door to the classroom. She is ready to make
her entrance back into torts the minute she can convince her mother she is imagining
things. He didn't show up for golf yesterday afternoon. Her mother's voice finally
breaks, and Jessica can hear her suppressing a sob. This gives Jessica pause.
Her hand drops from the bar as she realizes she probably won't be going
back to class anytime soon. Her mother will be inconsolable now, and it
will be Jessica's job to bring things back to normal. This is usually done
by Jessica flying down to Defuniac Springs to put the pieces of her hysterical mother
back together. Okay, remember mom, how he took off for a few
days a while back. He showed back up. Her mother sounds like she
is trying to compose herself, but remains silent save for her snifflings on the
other end of the phone. Well, what do you want me to do
about this? Jessica is now sitting back down on the bench outside of the
classroom, praying and hoping her mother doesn't ask her to come to Florida.
Don't say come to Florida. Don't say come to Florida. She mouths silent
lee to herself, crossing her free set of fingers. Can you come to
Florida? Can you come home? Her mother sniffles again. Jessica balls her
fingers up into a fist and slams it down on the hard bench. She
hates when her mother calls Defuniac Springs her home. That god forsaken place hasn't
been her home for years. New York is her home now. She would
rather not be associated with the dafuniac trash anymore. Mom, I don't know.
I've got work and school trails office. She realizes how whiny she sounds,
and Dafuniac Springs is not home. You know that, I hate when
you say that. Her mother ignores Jessica's last statement. But it's Friday.
I'll pay for your plane ticket. You can come down tonight and go back
on Monday Sunday, Jessica counters, slapping her forehead with her palm. Okay
Sunday. Her mother agrees, I'll buy your plane ticket now. Jessica is
already jogging toward the building exit. Just give me a couple hours, Okay.
I gotta get home and pack and hop on the end to get to
LaGuardia. I'll see you soon, sweetie. Jessica presses end on the call
without replying.