CHAPTER FOUR
David stepped into the bedroom ready for bed. Jane had prepared dinner for him and the girls earlier, and she even ate a bowl of soup with them before sitting up in bed for the rest of the night. She'd been waiting for David to come to bed because it would be their first time alone together for the day. She had a serious topic to discuss, but she'd ease into it.
David slipped on his pajamas and sat on the edge of the bed, "Well you seem to be doing better today. I didn't expect you to have dinner for us when I got home."
"You know it was no thanks to you," Jane whispered without much feeling, but the words themselves struck like lightning and shook like thunder. David's arms fell weakly and his arms fell limp into his lap.
"You know I can't control it, Jane. I needed those pills."
"Well I need you to stop. You have two options at this moment. You either check yourself into rehab or you go to jail. Those are your only two options, the only options I will allow," Jane said fiercely.
David was confused, "Jail? How are you going to put me in jail? I haven't stolen anything—"
"Like hell you haven't! You took pills from your mother. We don't have a key for her house, David. You snuck in and took her prescription, and she's furious enough to help me. Who do you think helped me come up with the idea? She's as worried as I am right now!"
"Worried about what?"
"Your health, our daughter. If you take her pills the way you did mine, she'll never make it through this surgery. I want you away from us when she goes in and while she recovers. You need to go into rehab so you can actually call her. Jail doesn't offer free phone calls, and if you think I'm paying for it, you're crazy."
"Won't we have to tell the kids?" he asked with a cocky tone, as if he had found a loophole.
He hadn't. Jane leaned forward, "I'm going to tell them you're doing a job. Thora already has everything I need for proof, not that they'll need any. I don't lie to them, and up until now, the only lie we've told them together is that you don't have a problem. They have no idea, and I won't let my daughter's surgery be when she figures it out."
David shook his head, "I don't understand. I would never take pills from my own daughter, but you and my mother are teaming up against me? I just feel so attacked right now."
"As you should!" Jane hissed. "How do expect us to feel about how you act? I'm more than happy to send you to jail, but you'll get a few days to get yourself into rehab, three exactly. Then I'm calling Thora and she can settle this."
"Fine, whatever," David spat, grabbing some of his things and fleeing the room. Jane sighed heavily and kept reading. She'd taken the first step, and she wouldn't falter now.
Francine knew that today was a new day, more like tonight was a new night. After her disastrous lunch with Samantha, Francine talked to some girls over a short break that afternoon. Now she was hosting an impromptu nacho party in her apartment with three of her coworkers, all of whom she'd seen with Thornton's hand up their ass. Francine quickly made several cheese dips and cocktails, and now she and the girls were living it up while chatting. When the conversation suddenly turned to work, Francine decided to ask the hard questions.
"So, how long have you all had problems with Thornton?" she asked. At first, they were meek and refused to acknowledge the problem. Then Francine sighed and said, "Look, girls, I know she does you all the same way he does me. I've seen his hands. I know what he does."
"Yeah, but there's nothing we can do about it," one said. The blonde beside her blushed, but then she joined in as well—there was nothing they could do about Thornton's behavior.
"You know, I thought there was nothing I could do too, but now I realize there's nothing I can do without help," Francine explained, dipping a tortilla chip and popping the bite. When she was done chewing she smiled to her coworkers, "Now I know I need help, your help specifically."
The redhead sat up straighter, "That's why you were at lunch with Sam. You were seeing where she stood."
"And now you're talking to us," the blonde added, cocking her head to the side, "What did Samantha say? Will she help you?"
"She thinks we're fighting a losing battle. Comparable jobs don't pay as much, Thornton is better than his replacements pay wise, and so on," Francine said, careful not to roll her eyes, "She told me that I need to be the change, so I am, and I will be, but I need more people along."
"Well he does it to everyone, no exceptions. Unless you're a client or higher than him on the totem poll, you've had his hand glued to your cheeks once or twice, and he makes regular jokes about having a large penis to his secretary. I should know. We share an office, and when he's not staring at my bust, he's grossing us out. I've looked, girls. Muy pequena."
"Pardon?" the blonde asked. The brunette grinned and translated her Spanish—very tiny.
Francine leaned forward, "What do you girls think? Samantha might be right about the pay, but we can fight for that next. I'd rather make less for a little while than deal with some guy's hand up my butt or ten more years, if I don't leave before then."
"The corporation does have a high turnover rate," they agreed, and they knew Francine was right about their fight. If they banded together to fight the harassment, more of them could come together to fight unfair wages.
But there were only four of them there, and a fifth who refused to be a part of the movement. They needed more before they came forward, but Francine knew she could do it, as long as she approached the right way. Cocktails and nachos worked with these women, but Francine needed to get as many as possible as fast as possible, and that's exactly what she planned to do.
Fern approached the door and rang the doorbell. It was her only day off for the week, and instead of spending it inside her bedroom writing, she was going over to Alex's house to work with him on creating a cover for the book her mother wants to publish. If that wasn't bad enough, it was clear that this was indeed Alex's house, showing that he was doing much better than her. Fern felt embarrassment sweep over her as she waited for Alex to answer the door, and she was tempted to run away before he could see her.
But he opened the door a moment later and led her to a rather advanced workspace. There were several computer monitors, as well as several touch pads for drawing, boards for ideas, and a large calendar for keeping track of dates. It was a full-blown home office, and Alex confirmed he was a freelance graphic designer.
"I've done pamphlets for your mom since college. I did my internship with her," Alex said, passing her one of her mother's information packets, "and she comes to me fairly often for new items. When she asked me about doing a book cover for you, I told her I'd be happy to do the first one for free. I just want you to stay with me for later, you know, when you get famous."
"That sounds okay," Fern nodded. She swallowed nervously, "I'm not really in control here, so hopefully this can really suit me. Have you read the manuscript?"
"Yes, and I'm honestly surprised no one would take it. One of my favorite young adult authors writes like this, but they never go this deep with their characters. It's a shame, but self-publishing is the way of the future. You don't have to deal with middle men when you get big. You can just reach out and touch your followers," Alex grinned as he pulled up a program on his computer and started to work.
"But there has to be a major downside to this or everyone would be doing it," Fern said.
"Well, that is one downside. If you take your tablet or another electronic device and look up free books in a reading app, you'll find thousands upon thousands of self-published works that people are trying to tease you with. Go into the ninety-nine cents books and so forth, and there you are. Thousands and thousands of writers are trying this, and it's not easy to get your book in a real tangible form," Alex explained, picking up a book from a shelf underneath his desk, "This is a recipe book from a local woman who had books printed herself. The bookstores wouldn't cover it, but she marketed online just like you'll do. She didn't make much, but it was a start, and it was enough to satisfy her. Maybe a big company will pick you up if you do well enough."
"It'd be nice," Fern whispered. "I've been trying to do it on my own for years now, but no one wants it, and some have asked me to stop approaching me unless I find a reputable agent. It's depressing. I worked hard on these books just for them to be ignored."
"Well, this could change that, if it's what you want. I gather it's not?" he guessed.
Fern nodded, "Mom saw some rejection letters and went on the crusade. I'm still able to write in my spare time, and she'd not editing the content…yet. I just feel like it's happening so fast."
"It would happen that fast if you were signed too," Alex noted, drawing up a preliminary design as they kept talking. Alex smiled, "I think this is a wonderful way to get started. Several famous authors went this route first, and now they're household names with movies and everything. I'm not trying to get your hopes up by telling you that, but I am trying to convince you that this could work for now."
"Well, I guess I can trust my mom. She does know everyone in town, and that's a pretty good start," Fern said, watching the cover come together. She was happy with the design and the color scheme that Alex had chosen. She could tell he actually read her manuscript. Everything fit with the book's feel and the character, and when he was done, Fern felt no changes needed to be made.
"Well, I'll be in touch with your mom, and you can follow me online and contact me through there if you need me. And remember, when you get famous, I'm your cover guy," Alex winked. Fern nodded. If he could do that with all of her books, then she'd be perfectly happy, at least for now.
Sue Ellen's professor was quick to respond with the information Sue Ellen needed. Judging by the preliminary list Sue Ellen sent, she could get credit for some of the classes she'd already had in France. She just needed to get back to campus to start classes, hopefully within the next two weeks.
Sue Ellen looked over her tiny Parisian apartment and knew this was her chance to leave. Sue Ellen had her own bank account filled with money from her high school and college graduation. She'd never touched that money because her parents always paid for everything. Now it was time to use that money.
Before she even knew what was happening, Sue Ellen had booked a flight, found a small apartment in Elwood City, packed up her things, and withdrawn from her French university. By the day's end, she was ready to get out of there, and with her flight being two days away, Sue Ellen had never felt so free in all her life.
The next morning, she explored the city, ending up at a small café. She got a light breakfast and sat outside to eat it. As she did, she felt someone approach her from behind. She turned to see Pierre with a light grin on his lips. He sat across from her and placed an order with the quick waitress, then he turned his attention to Sue Ellen.
"You weren't in class yesterday like I thought you'd be. Have you finally made your decision?" he asked. Sue Ellen smiled and told him everything. Pierre nodded his items arrived, "Wow, I'm proud of you for taking a stand. What do you plan to do when you get home?"
"Start classes immediately. I found an apartment near the school, so I'll move in when I get there, get the place ready for a few days, then jump into classes. I can get a job close to the university, probably even on campus, just to keep my funds up, and life will be good. I'll finally be doing things my way," Sue Ellen smiled.
Pierre leaned forward, "You shouldn't have to work that hard, with the job and everything. Let me cover your apartment, at least for a year or while you're in school."
"Wow, really? Do you know what you're offering?" Sue Ellen asked with great surprise. She'd never had anyone other than her parents offer to pay for anything aside from scholarship offers. She had never had an individual treat her this way, especially a boy, a foreign boy at that.
Pierre nodded, "I know exactly what I'm offering. My parents pay for my sister to live and go to school in America to become a fashion designer. It's nothing. My family is rich and I'm only in school for my own desires. When I finish, I'll go to work within the family business. I'll never use any of the information I learn here, unlike you. You appreciate history and you want to live by history. I appreciate that within you, and I want to help. Please, let me pay for you."
Sue Ellen was shocked at the offer, but she knew she should take it. Her one-way trip home and the down payment, plus her books, would drain her account to dangerous levels if she wanted to continue. She could probably lie to her mother to get some money from her for supplies, but she'd rather pretend everything was well, something Pierre could do for her without Sue Ellen having to find a job.
Sue Ellen looked up, "If you're really up to that, I think I'll take up your offer. But what do you want in return?"
"Your happiness," Pierre said with a genuine honesty that Sue Ellen hadn't heard in a while. Pierre leaned forward, "I want you to get your degree, maybe even a top-level degree, and I want you to use it however you see fit, as long as you're happy."
"I can do that," Sue Ellen said, writing down her cellphone number and sliding it to Pierre, "That's my cellphone number, and oh, I'll add my email. You can contact me that way and we can work out the details."
"I'll email you when you get home. When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow night," Sue Ellen said, having trouble keeping down her excitement.
Pierre smiled, "Alright, I'll email you in two days' time in the morning. Do you need a ride to the airport?"
"No, I think I'll take a cab so I can enjoy the city one last time on my own. I do like it here, but this is my mother's dream, not mine."
"Well, you're changing that with your actions. I wish you the best, and it was nice to share classes with you. We'll keep in touch," Pierre said, finishing the last bite of his pastry and leaving Sue Ellen alone.
Sue Ellen sat stunned in her seat. She didn't expect Pierre's offer, and she still wondered if it was too good to be true. She finished her breakfast and went to pay for her meal, but the waitress said she'd already been paid for by her friend. Sue Ellen smiled, and she hoped this would continue. If it didn't, she would have a tougher time of things, but she would still try her best to get through.
Jenna needed some of her personal documents to fully stay away from Frank, so after a doctor's appointment with her mother's doctor, her mother went with a sheriff to her old home. Jenna was nervous because she didn't know what they would encounter when they got there, but she had things to do at home.
Before returning home from their appointment, Jenna's mother went by several stores, starting with a thrift store and ending with a chain store that sold baby supplies. They'd even gotten some low odor paint so that Jenna could paint the room. She went with a pea green, and now she was painting while her mother was away.
Jenna couldn't believe how quickly her life had changed. Since coming home, she could finally sleep without fear of outbursts, and she knew now that she could raise this child without struggling. When she was with Frank, she was tempted to give the baby up. The way he treated her, he didn't realize she was carrying new life. What would happen when new life arrived? Jenna didn't really want to find out, and now that she was away from him, she vowed to stay away from him.
Several hours after leaving, Jenna's mother returned with a box of her things. Clothes covered the important documents and I.D. cards that Jenna had sent for, and she happily went through the things and added them to her room. When she was done, she went downstairs and found her mother sitting at the dining room table with her head in her hands.
"What's wrong, Mom? Are you okay?" Jenna asked.
"I saw that bathroom, Jenna. I can't believe he locked you in there, but I talked to the sheriff. Because you didn't sustain physical injuries, it'll be a game of he-said, she-said if you try to press charges. He denies everything, and he seemed shocked to see us. Now that your things are gone, it's like you were never there. Filing charges and getting justice is out of the question. Now we just need to make sure he doesn't get access to that baby," her mother said firmly, shaking her head with emphasis.
Jenna agreed with her, but she knew they could do this. Her father would help as well, and everything would fall into place. Jenna was eager for this to happen, and she continued her work in the nursery. Her mother spent fifty dollars on everything they bought, and Jenna knew she'd have to pay thousands more to help her cover the cost of the baby. As soon as she was able, Jenna needed a job, probably something at night so it would work with her mother's schedule.
Knowing she only had a month left before the baby's arrival, Jenna decided to start looking now. She could talk to people now and let them know her intentions, at least, and she could finally get her life back together. She might be living with her parents, but she was still free of a horrible boyfriend. She'd build her life without him, and though she'd have a child to remind her of him, she knew that would be her baby and hers alone. Frank would become a distant memory, and a name that her baby would never get to know.
Muffy was surprised at how nice the office was. If she wasn't there on official business, she wondered if it were an advertising firm, a plastic surgeon's office, or another prestigious place. It was simply too nice to be the front for an escort service, but then Muffy saw it. There was a wall with headshots in nice frames. If she didn't know any better, she'd think this was a modeling agency or a dentist office trying to show off its good work. Instead this was an escort service, and these were the top women in the business. Maria's frame was right at the center of the collage.
"Miss Crosswire?" the secretary called, distracting Muffy. She was reluctant to leave that wall because she knew what it meant. These girls were living the dream right now, but Muffy was waiting to find out if she'd be one of them. Maria had set things in motion, but now it was time to prove herself to the top man in the business.
"Hello, Miss Crosswire. Please, sit," the boss said. Muffy was surprised to see a woman when she entered the lavish corner office with glass walls on two sides. The view of Metropolis was better than she'd ever seen before, and she was envious of this woman. She wanted her job. The boss picked up a file and looked it over, "I'm surprised you've never acted or done modeling before, even a small roll in high school. You really have the art."
"In high school?" Muffy asked. Her résumé included nothing from her high school years.
The boss laughed, "Social media is the best tool in our business. Not only does it help us make sure our girls are top-notch, but it helps us keep an eye on our clients too. We have an entire team of young savvy adults who browse social media day and night looking for anything peculiar. It saves lives, really, but for your purpose, we were just making sure you were the real deal. You are. You're exactly the kind of girl that comes here on a daily basis, but you're not like them. You want the lavish lifestyle, but you're willing to do the dirty work to try to get yourself to the top."
Muffy smiled, "You found my rants about working for my daddy's company, didn't you?"
"Of course we did," the boss grinned, leaning back suavely in her chair. She crossed her arms, "Tell me what Ed Crosswire has been up to when he's not making slave labor out of his own daughter," she insisted.
"He's trying to expand into international markets," Muffy murmured, unsure if her father's affairs were right to discuss in an interview like this.
The boss grinned, "If he doesn't start treating you like family, his clients might have a problem partaking in that. You see, we cater to everyone. As long as you can pay the fees we put in place, you can use our services, seeing that you're fit to be one of our clients. Needless to say, a lot of foreign dignitaries and local hotshots come here looking for someone to show them a good time, usually at very public affairs. If you decide to work for me, you'll get to decide how public you are, and if you'll keep daddy's day job. If you don't and you start working with his clients, I think the dramatic bombshells will fall into place quite nicely."
Muffy smiled a devious grin. Ever since her parents decided to start treating her so harshly, she'd wondered how to get back at them. Chip seemed content living a life under their control even this many years later, but Muffy wasn't. She didn't mind the independence, but the way they showed it to her showed her how nasty the world could be far before she was ready. Playing games with them like this could put a hurting on their business, but she knew it would also sever any ties she had with them. Her smile faded. She didn't know if she was ready for that yet.
The boss noticed and passed her a business card, "I'll give you some time to make your decision, however long you need. Just call and ask for Anastasia whenever you decide. Just remember your rate will probably be somewhere between ninety and a hundred-fifty per hour, depending on the excursion. We take ten percent, plus five for certain outings that cost more for us. We give discounts, you see, otherwise it would be the standard ten. We like to help our clients in as many ways as we can," Anastasia smiled.
Muffy nodded and tucked the card away. She would need some time to think about this, but she knew it wouldn't be much. Once she got started, she knew she wouldn't be inclined to stop. She was worrying about the unintended consequences that could come with such a lifestyle, but only a little. Muffy wanted her riches back. She needed her glittering gold.
Ladonna greeted the nurse in the front yard. She was from Magnolia Springs, the assisted living facility that Ladonna was looking into. From their call yesterday, Ladonna knew their response would be quick, but she had no idea they would actually do a house call.
"Hi, I'm Tina Hill from Magnolia Springs. I'm here to evaluate your mother's needs to see if she really needs on-campus treatment," Tina said, looking over the property after shaking Ladonna's hand, "Ah, this is a lovely place. If we can just bring the nursing to you, we'd like to. It's the same charge as in-facility treatment in some cases, but usually it's cheaper."
"I'd like to keep her here and learn more from y'all. She doesn't recognize me most of the time and it's hard to work with her," Ladonna said, leading Tina into the house through a side door that let into the kitchen.
"Oh this is a lovely home," Tina smiled, looking back to Ladonna, "That's the hardest thing for families to take, them not recognizing you, but they still need our care. We can show you everything, but I'm curious about how bad off you are. You sounded mighty desperate on the phone."
"I am, and my extended family doesn't know about Mama. She's young to be an Alzheimer's patient, and I just didn't know how to tell them. My siblings are in town and I had to run them off. I think people are starting to talk, and now she's just so bad. She messes herself, and I try so hard to keep her and the bed clean, but it's tough on your own. I should've called you or my siblings sooner, but I wanted to take care of things. I promised my family when we moved back down here that I would stay on top of things. I even left school to take care of her full-time when she got bad enough."
"I looked over her file and noticed she'd had a fast progression," Tina nodded, texting on her smartphone, "I didn't know your extended family, including her other children, were unaware of her diagnosis. We have special programs at Magnolia Springs that can help you, and if she's receiving care from us, we can help you get back to school by giving you more time. You don't have to worry about being alone anymore."
With the preliminary chitchat out of the way, Tina wanted to meet Ladonna's mother. Ladonna let her into the master bedroom, and because of her scrubs, her mother was cordial with the stranger despite not recognizing her. Ladonna watched as Tina had a conversation with her mother, which went from normal chitchat to questions about the day, year, and where she was. Her mother thought it was December 9, 1984, and when pressed about Ladonna's identity, she said Misty, which was the name of a childhood friend she'd had ages ago.
When the conversation was over, Ladonna let Tina out through the front door. Once she'd put her things in her passenger seat, Tina turned around with a sympathetic smile:
"Your mother is in rough shape. Luckily for you I won't have to call adult protective services. The way you talked, I expected poor conditions, but you've done well keeping her and the house as clean as you can. I'm going to talk with the attending physician at Magnolia Springs, and I'm going to recommend she stay here and receive 70-30 care. That means people will be in and out throughout the day helping you with anything, from baths to meals, and there will be downtime at night while she's sleeping. If she needs anything more than basic care at any time, you'll be asked to transfer her to the facility. Once everything is decided, you'll be contacted by someone from our marketing department to discuss pricing. Insurance should cover most of what we'll be doing now, but if she needs on-campus treatment, well, they'll discuss it with you. We'll be in touch," Tina said, getting in her car and leaving before Ladonna could say another word.
Ladonna returned inside and made herself a mug of coffee. Her mother was napping in her room after a chaotic morning, so Ladonna was glad to have a few moments to take in everything she'd just heard. The relief on Tina's face disgusted Ladonna when she talked about the conditions. She would never let her mother get so bad off that she'd be walking around a pig sty in soiled clothes. That's why she was calling, and she hoped they could help.
But pricing was a problem. Ladonna and her mother were living off alimony money from her father, money that could go away if he ever decided to remarry. Ladonna needed to go back to school and get a job, and not necessarily in that order. And despite her pride, she knew she needed to tell her siblings. If the family knew, they could support her if need be, but Ladonna wasn't there yet. Her mother was her responsibility, and she intended to keep it that way as long as possible.
Bitzi made a phone call to Buster to discuss his personal life, and as Palladia had told her, they were starting to get serious. Bitzi was disgusted and saddened at the same time. Part of her wanted her coworker to be dating someone other than her baby boy, but another part of her was happy that she actually had someone decent in her life like Buster. Bitzi was still wading through dating apps and personal ads, and so far they'd only turned up disastrous first dates, some worse than others.
As she ate takeout alone in her kitchen, Bitzi wondered if she should try something different. She went to bars and clubs and tried the online thing, but should she try something else? Bitzi used her phone to look up community events. She thought that she might try to get involved with something, then she could meet guys that way.
But as she looked through the week's events, she namely found 12-step programs for various problems, from substance abuse to overeating, and the only charity events seemed to be for churches and their charities. While Bitzi wouldn't mind helping those groups with food drives or markets or whatever else they were doing, using those events to meet a man seemed like a sin in her eyes, even if she wasn't that religious.
Bitzi had written about this before. She just wished she could be happy being single at this point in her life, but she wasn't. Her empty nest sent her to the streets and beyond looking for companionship, and so far she hadn't found anything worth settling for, especially from her first date crowd. The "I'm a twin but I'm really lying to you" guy was nothing compared to some of her other bad dates. And while her blog followers ate up every bad outing, Bitzi was growing sick of it. She needed something else and fast.
After finishing her meal, Bitzi went to her home computer and sat down. After looking briefly at a news site, she went to a forum she sometimes frequented for people who worked in journalism. Most of them were field reporters or other grunts trying to cope with this brave new world of technologies and e-papers, but some of them were higher ups like Bitzi. There was an entire section dedicated to editors, and tonight several people were on discussing a recent controversy where an editor lost their job for not fact checking, an issue that also cost their paper millions of dollars in restitution.
Bitzi weighed in and found herself in a lively debate with another editor who had the same stance she did—the reporter should've lost their job instead. The two fought together against those who agreed with how the case had gone, and an hour into their crusade, Bitzi found a private message waiting for her from the person. He identified himself as Richard from Hickville. He worked for a tiny country newspaper and wanted to know more about her because of her political stance. She told him she was from Suburbia and worked for their largest paper, and soon the conversation continued. Both agreed that larger papers from places like Metropolis put their establishments at risk, and both wondered how much longer the industry could last in this new world.
Shortly after midnight, their conversation ended so they could both get ready for bed. Bitzi hopped into the shower, where the sound of the water rushing around her made her think of Richard even more. As she finished her nightly routine and sank into bed, she wondered what would become of their forum conversation and private messages. Would they keep talking?
Just before Bitzi turned off her light, she got a notification from her phone and checked it. Richard wanted to be friends on Facebook. She accepted then looked over his profile. He was a handsome middle-aged man. He was ten years older but he was also a divorced man with an only daughter. Bitzi smiled as she looked through pictures of Richard and his hound dog. He was from North Carolina and spent most of his free time outside with the dog, usually at creeks or lakes so they could play in the water.
Bitzi loved his down-home honesty, and as she slipped off to sleep, she knew she was crushing on him. She just hoped it would actually work out for once, as none of her recent crushes had.
Belinda was between a rock and a hard place. Rumors somehow spread that she was looking for another place to work, and as she began making plans to interview with the job she wanted, she found herself in her boss's office after work almost every shift dodging plans to pay her more, move her elsewhere, or something else to keep her there. Belinda kept herself composed, but she texted Charles about it after work often. He'd tell her to keep her chin up, but Belinda was finding it to be hard. How could someone with a career in one of the largest field in the United States have such a difficult time with everything?
Once at home, Belinda changed into a comfortable outfit and slipped out of her shoes. Her husband had left her a plate in the refrigerator, so she heated it up and sat in front of the television to eat it. She was just getting comfortable when the door opened and Mei-Lin stepped inside.
"I thought you had school," Belinda said, eying her watch. It was a school day, but she'd forgotten about spring break. Mei-Lin had gone out for breakfast and returned. She offered her mother a hashbrown, and she took it eagerly.
"It's nice to actually see you in person. It's been months," Mei-Lin said before taking a huge bite of her chicken and egg biscuit. When she was done chewing, she smiled, "Daddy said you were looking for a better job so you could spend more time with me. He told me to be as helpful as I can because the interviews would cut into your downtime. He's teaching me to cook, but he's decided not to let you have any yet. I'm not that good."
"You're learning, I'm sure," Belinda smiled. She did the math in her head and realized her daughter was fifteen years old. Her head spun as she realized how much time she'd lost. She'd had her crazy schedule since Binky graduated, and Mei-Lin was ten at the time. That was a long time to put up with her mother's absence, almost five years by Belinda's math.
"Mom, I hope you get something soon so we can spend more time together. I want to go to college elsewhere, maybe even China, and that'll be four long years away from home. I don't want that for either of us," Mei-Lin lamented.
"I don't want it either, and I'm trying. The hospital is trying to keep me there, but I'm refusing them," Belinda winked.
Mei-Lin looked up, "They're trying to keep you there? How did they know you were leaving? Did you tell anyone?"
"No, but when you work that closely with people, things just get figured out. Someone probably heard me make a return phone call or they saw me looking at listings. Either way, so many people are miserable. Two more nurses left last week, and one of their replacements quit after one day. A lot of people are unhappy where I work, and I guess they assume I'm at my wits end whether I've told them so or not," Belinda guessed, though she shared her daughter's sentiments. She was beginning to wonder if her job was actually in danger and her boss was trying to get her something else before all was lost.
But Mei-Lin was content with her mother's answer, and the two finished their breakfast in silence. While Belinda wanted to spend every moment with her daughter, she had to get to bed so she'd be rested up for her next shift. She reluctantly hugged her daughter and kissed her forehead goodbye before heading to bed. Once there, she cried for a long time as she thought about everything she'd missed. Belinda had to get everything together before she missed anything else, just like Mei-Lin wanted.
James was furious to find his stash missing, and he was even more unhappy to see his wife sitting nonchalantly at the kitchen table with the morning paper and a cup of coffee. He muttered under his breath before marching into the kitchen. Anita simply sipped her coffee. She'd found the whisky in the empty cookie jar and bourbon behind the refrigerator. Judging by the slamming of a cabinet, he realized she'd found his vodka under the sink too.
"Who the hell has been in our house?" James spat as he rushed back into the dining room.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Anita said flatly as she turned the page of her newspaper.
"I have a splitting headache that I need a cure for! Has anyone been in our house?" he demanded again. Anita shook her head. James cursed and sank into a chair as he contemplated what to do.
Anita looked up from her paper, "I think we need to discuss this."
"No the hell we don't!"
"See, look how angry you are right now. You do realize what you're so mad about, right? James, I'm worried about you! You're starting to scare me because you are so dependent on your booze. Did you know you could kill our neighbors if you keep this up? How would you feel if you ran into a car full a children and killed all of them? Huh? How would you feel?"
James seemed undeterred. Anita wondered if he was even listening, and since he immediately jumped up and headed towards the den, she knew he'd been contemplating his next move. His stash was gone, even the ten bottles from various hiding spots in the den. James was furious about this, and despite Anita's attempt, he rushed out of the house before they could finish their conversation.
Anita said to heck with it and packed her things for the business. On the way there she found her husband at a liquor store sneaking around the back. She was stopped by a red light and watched him down half the bottle in one gulp, pause, then drink the other half. He tossed it on the ground and stepped back to his car, swaggering as he nearly lost his footing a few times.
Despite the honking behind her, Anita got her phone and called 9-1-1. She called in his tag number and pulled into a nearby auto parts store to watch. Sure enough, a deputy arrived within minutes and pulled her husband over at the same stoplight she'd eyed him at. The field sobriety test was no contest. He couldn't lift his foot up without losing balance, and when asked to recite the alphabet, he cursed at the officer and refused.
Anita was surprised when the officer cuffed her husband and loaded him into the back of the squad car. She wasn't surprised that he'd done it. No, she was surprised because she didn't feel anything, despite being the one that called him in.
Molly wasn't surprised when Rattles let her into the passenger's side, closing the door behind her before getting in himself. Within minutes, he was asking questions, and after a night of thinking about it, Molly decided to be honest.
"They've found cancer, but we won't know how much until I have this test," Molly admitted.
Rattles exhaled deeply as he went pale. It took him a moment to find himself, but all he could say was, "Wow."
"I didn't expect it either, but I knew I needed to get my symptoms checked out. I just didn't feel right, so when I got my job and my benefits, I went up to see what they could do for me. The doctor seemed surprised too. I'm a little young, I guess."
"I just…I can't believe this. I thought you were having a root canal or something. My wife and I joked about how you'd act on laughing gas. Now I feel terrible!" Rattles exclaimed.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up. I'm not even that funny on laughing gas. I had it when I had my wisdom teeth and I just sat there the whole time without saying anything. One of my mom's friends took me, and I know she'd tell me if I was funny. She loves jokes," Molly smiled. Her smile faded when she saw Rattles didn't want to joke, "Hey, I'm being serious here. If they caught this early, I'll get treatment and everything will be okay."
"What if it's not okay? Cancer is serious business. My step-father lost two parents and a grandmother to cancer. It's not something that just goes away."
"Well, they're going to try," Molly said.
Rattles turned to her, "What about James?"
Molly exhaled, "I haven't told him. He's in college right now and doesn't need that at this particular moment. I'd love to keep it a secret from him, but if I lose my hair to chemo, he'll have to find out. I want to tell him after this weekend. He's got some important assignments that I want him to focus on, then I'll let him know. I probably won't know anything for a week or two anyway, and I'd rather know something first."
"What about it you-?"
"No," Molly said firmly. "We'll talk about that when it comes to it, but no, I'm not even going to think about what would happen if I died yet. That's too much for me. I have to figure out how to pay for this first. I found some charities—"
"My wife and I can help you sort through those and anything else. If you need anything, even if it's the middle of the night, you have to call me. And if you need a place to stay, we'll figure something out. My mom won't mind taking you in," Rattles said as he pulled into a parking spot at the hospital. The two exchanged glances then it was time to go inside. They separated after admissions, and when Molly came out, she was too groggy to speak. He got her some lunch, which she promised to eat later, then he dropped her off at her house. After making sure she got inside safely, he went home to break the unhappy news to his wife, and to start the crusade to get Molly's treatments paid for.
Prunella spent her entire day shaking off comments from her coworker, who thought her waving incident was a joke. With her sister under psychiatric care, it wasn't a joke for Prunella. Seeing spots or shadows was something she could handle when she had tired eyes, but seeing full-blown people that she could interact with? Prunella was terrified at what that could mean, so terrified that she couldn't bring herself to research it online. If she really was bona fide crazy, she didn't want to know just yet.
She checked in on Rubella through Dr. Mano during her lunchbreak and discovered everything was okay for the moment. Then Prunella turned her attention to work and making things work with her clients. She had a lot of responsibility in her position, and that alone helped her understand that sometimes she would break. She once took two full weeks off after an exhausting 72-hour period where she worked nonstop. Her coworkers encouraged her to take more time off if she could, but now wasn't the time.
After scarfing down a wrap, Prunella got back to work and threw herself into her duties. She needed to finish up several projects before making a personal delivery downtown. After her coworkers insisted ten dozen times that things were okay, she left with the package. She soon found herself in a yoga studio delivering advertising supplies to an old friend, a very old friend. This was the same woman her mother often went to when she needed guidance.
"Prunella, how good to see you," the woman smiled, kissing each cheek before accepting the package, "Ah, how wonderful and timely you are. Let me get my payment. Oh, how's your sister doing?" she called from her cluttered office.
"She's fine, fine," Prunella replied with a light laugh.
"That's good," the woman replied, handing Prunella a check, "You know, I decided to do a reading the other day, and I assume your sister is having one of her spells again. What does she think she has this time?"
"Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever," Prunella lied, well, semi-lied. That was her sister's last fear after riding a train and ending up with strange symptoms. The woman bought it and nodded intensely before a bell chimed, signaling a customer's entrance. Prunella was immediately put on the backburner, allowing her to slip out of the establishment unnoticed.
After dropping off the check at the office, Prunella decided to call it an early night. She picked up some Thai food and went back to her apartment, where she sat down and ate quickly. When she was done, she decided she was curious enough to look up her symptoms online.
She immediately regretted her decision. Prunella was told by the great Web M.D. that she could have any number of illnesses, from an adverse reaction to wild mushrooms to a full-blown psychiatric disorder. Prunella's stress increased tenfold, and despite her usual "no wine before bed" rule, she had no choice but to break it. She needed to sleep to solve her problem, and wine was a better help than any over-the-counter sleeping pill.
Her effort worked, but it sent her into a fitful sleep that provided little rest. Prunella knew it was worth a shot, at least, but she'd have to try something else the next night, especially if she had anymore unforeseen visitors.
It was late, but Marina had things to look up. She was looking up grants and other ways to get money for the school, and she realized she needed a professional writer to help her with her crusade. She'd searched for hours with the same result—she needed a full write-up to ask these places for their money, and Marina knew she couldn't do it herself.
Before calling it quits and heading to bed, Marina decided to post an ad online on a site she used often. The last time she used it was for a family friend looking to sell boxes and boxes of children's clothing that her four kids could no longer wear. Now she was asking for a writer, someone with a degree who didn't mind working for free to perform a charitable deed. Marina knew this was ridiculous, but it was worth a shot.
As she went to bed, Marina knew she'd decided on something else too. She liked Anthony as a coworker, and she always respected how a man with his privileged background could work so well with the blind and partially blind students of the school. He really understood them in a way Marina didn't expect upon learning his history.
But she knew his personality was some cosmic creation, and any partnership she had with his father's school likely wouldn't give her what she needed from her teaching. If he approached her about the job again, she wanted to refuse him. No, she needed to refuse him. She wanted to work exactly where she was working now, even if it meant a fight. She didn't mean it as an insult to him, and she knew she would have to make that clear when she broke the news. She went over the conversation in her head before falling asleep, and then she dreamed about the scenario. At first it was cordial, but then Anthony changed. He grew angry at her refusal before showing her the school. It was nothing like the school for the blind, and all of the students were able-bodied and came from wealthy families.
"I can't do this," Marina pleaded, but Anthony led her from room to room showing her all the pristine children and teachers. His father appeared and he took the image that Marina had always given Daddy Warbucks and Ed Crosswire before he moved away. He was larger than life and seemed to be smoking thousand-dollar bills as he towered over her.
Marina woke up drenched in a cold sweat. She took a moment to compose herself, then she realized what was happening. A trip to the bathroom and an examination from her thermometer revealed the truth—Marina had come down with the flu.
