When the doctor finally cleared me to go home, it all finally sank in. I was suddenly met with the fact that I couldn't exactly go home, since my home was painted a nice shade of red in at least two of the rooms. I was pondering this thought when Darry finally spoke up, breaking me out of my silence.
"Soda's coming home today too," he said lightly. I looked up at him and couldn't help but smile. Leave it to Darry to try and be discrete about inviting me to crash on their couch, even though I've been doing it for countless years.
I thought about what he said for a moment as I sat down on the bed, trying to tie my shoe with only one hand. My head was pounding, but I knew that was because I had spent the day before preparing for my brother and father's funerals, only after clearing it with social services that my sisters were to be present, one way or another.
"Can we…uh," I didn't want to say what was on my mind, but it was inevitable. I needed to grab some fresh clothes, as mine were still caked in blood. "Can we stop by my place before hand?" I asked softly.
"Sure," Darry said with a nod.
I nodded tiredly. I hadn't slept much the night before, and it had caught up with me faster than I expected. Before I had a chance to finish putting on my shoes, a familiar, but far less welcomed face appeared around the door, followed by a police officer.
"Jo-Anna Beth, it's been a while," the man said with a sad smile. Jacob Ryan. My mother's lawyer.
"Good morning, Sir," I said as kindly as I could muster. "What can I do for you?"
"Ah, pleasant as always," he said gently. "It's more what I can do for you, actually," he went on.
"Oh?" I looked at the police officer stiffly, not too keen on him being there. I knew he still needed my statement.
"See, now, since with everything that's happened, the bank is willing to buy your house off you," he said kindly. "We just need…" I cut him off.
"Excuse me?" I asked, confused. "The house isn't in my name."
"It is now," he said with a sigh. "Technically, it has been since you turned 18. Your mother left the house to you in her will," he said gently.
"My mother had a will?" I was confused. It's not like she knew she was going to get killed.
"A living will at the time, yes. Anyway, the bank would like to buy your house, foreclose on it really. It's not exactly…uhm, how can I put this, up to city standards right now," he said as kindly as he could.
"That's an understatement," I sighed.
The officer looked over at Darry and Soda, who hadn't moved an inch.
"Can they do this in private?" he practically snapped. This made my head shoot up.
"No way!" I yelped, sliding off the bed, moving to simply sit between Soda and Darry across the room. "They're as much part of this as anyone else."
"Let them stay, Garry," the lawyer said gently. "I know the boys, they were there for the kids after their mother died."
That shut the officer up real quick.
"If I let the bank have the house, how much are we looking at? Because it's not like I can sleep over at other people's houses forever. I'm trying to get the girls back and all…" I deadpanned.
"That's why I'm here now, rather than later. I'm aware that you are extremely close to the Curtis boys, right?" he said, as if it weren't obvious. I nodded, waiting for him to get to the point. "The house directly behind theirs, the one that their back fence connects to, are you aware of it?"
"Of course," I said with a nod. "What about it?"
"It's been on the market for several years now, after its previous owner passed away, and the bank has settled on an agreement, if you're willing…" he gave me a slight smile.
"Trade my childhood home, for one directly behind theirs?" I asked, eyes widening. I'd never heard of such a thing before.
"I went through a lot of fuss to make it possible. If you're willing, that is," he said with a smile. "It's nothing big, but it's got three bedrooms, a decent size dining area, and a fairly modern kitchen," he said slowly, gauging my reaction.
"I knew the family that lived there about 10 years ago," I said with a smile. "I always loved the house, because I always considered the possibilities," I said with a huge grin. "Where do I sign?"
"Right here," he said, handing me the form. "I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be so easy," he said kindly.
"Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't," I laughed. "But you're giving me a real shot at getting the girls back."
"That's what I thought," he smiled.
"Jo, I hate to ask, but I really need that statement today," the officer said. I sighed and nodded.
"Let me have a few minutes first, alright?" I asked. I was really getting lightheaded. After the lawyer left the room, I snatched my small purse off the chair where it sat and walked out of the room without a word to Darry or Soda. I stumbled down the hall, sitting down heavily in a dark corner of the waiting room.
I leaned my head against the wall, taking a long, hard drag off my cigarette. I tried to keep my eyes open, but I was so freaking tired.
"Trying to burn the whole place down?" a familiar voice rang. I looked up and saw Steve staring down at me, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Mmm," I muttered tiredly, taking another long drag.
"Scoot over," he said, coming to sit next to me. Me and Steve had never been super close, but we were close enough that minor physical contact wasn't awkward. So when I leaned my head against his arm, he simply shifted so we were both comfortable.
"Long night?" he asked gently, prying the cigarette from my hand. I felt him inhale.
"More like long week," I said tiredly. "I still gotta give my statement," I sighed. My head was throbbing something fierce.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, tilting my head. I forced my eyes open, and tried to nob, but it was just too much for my head.
"Migraine," I groaned, snapping my eyes shut again. I felt Steve's hand press against my forehead, but felt him sigh in relief when he realized I didn't have a fever. "It's nothing outta the norm," I told him softly. "They come and go when things start piling up."
"You need sleep," he said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," I barely managed to utter.
"C'mon, the faster you give your statement, the faster you can go to sleep," he said, pulling me to my feet. I groaned and leaned heavily against him as we walked through the waiting room. Only as we approached the room did I force myself to step forward, nodding at the officer who still stood against the wall.
"Can we make this fast?" I asked, sitting down heavily.
"Sure," he nodded. "I just need you to run through that entire day for me," he said gently.
"Let's see, I got out of work around…um…" I tried to remember exactly when I punched out. "5:30," I finally said. "I was walking to the DX like I always did afterwork. I wasn't there maybe ten minutes when the social worker called me and said that my brother got drafted a month ago, and didn't make it. But what stood out was she said she tried the house first. So Steve and Soda, along with Mary, and me, all went back to my house."
"Then what?" he asked, writing down my every word.
"I knew something was wrong when the front door was open," my heart started to race in my chest, my headache getting that much worse. "So I went in first-"
"Why?" the officer cut me off.
"I don't right know," I said softly. "The living room was a mess…real bad. Then I went into the kitchen and…and" I couldn't spit the words out. I gasped, pressing my eyes shut. The entire scene played out in front of me. Michelle's shrill scream. The gunshots. Soda's pained cry. The blood. So much blood.
I jolted from the bed, barely making it to the bathroom when my stomach heaved. I leaned back a few moments later, shaking something fierce, my heart pounding in my chest.
"That's enough," Darry said sternly, before coming to my side, standing in front of me protectively. I vaguely heard the officer say something else, but Steve's angry tone cut him off.
"Don't you see you're upsettin' both of them?" he snapped angrily. Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I looked over at Soda, who looked as pale as the sheet he sat on.
"I need the rest of her statement," the officer said in a hushed tone.
I stood up, walked right up to him, even though I was shaking something fierce and said.
"There was blood and my father was dead. My sister screamed so I went to her, saw the man, and the rest should be pretty fucking obvious," I snapped before looking at the door. "I don't wanna talk about it no more. Get out," my tone was a whole lot harsher than I expected, and I was surprised to see him leave quickly. I went over to Soda and sat down next to him, wrapping my arms around him.
"You good?" we both asked at the same exact time, which of course, made us both crack up.
The migraine was fading faster than usual, so as soon as my body stopped shaking, I stood up and tried to find the little gold chain that held my mother's wedding rings. I knew for certain that I had been wearing it when everything took place, but now, I couldn't find it.
"What are you looking for?" Darry asked, coming up next to me as I flipped the pillow over again.
"My necklace," I sighed softly. I had a feeling it was hopeless.
"This one?" Steve asked, producing said necklace. I smiled at him and caught it as he tossed it to me. "The clasp must be broken, the fuzz brought it over later that night," he explained before I could even ask how he managed to get a hold of it.
"Thanks," I said, smiling. I looked at the clasp, and sure enough, the loop was only partway closed. I grimaced and stuck it in my pocket instead.
"All the paperwork's signed, right?" I asked.
"Yeah," Darry nodded, sensing that I just wanted to get outta there.
"Good," I said as I walked out of the room, my purse thrown over my shoulder. I made it to the parking lot before everyone else, for a moment trying to decide whose car I would ride in. Normally, I had no problem riding in the bed of Darry's truck, but with the migraine still fading, I decided to wait next to Steve's car.
"Ready?" Steve asked as I sat in the passenger seat. Two-Bit decided to ride with the Curtis's.
"Yupp," I sighed. In all reality, I was far from ready. I didn't want to ever go back inside that house s'long as I lived. But I knew it was hopeless. I needed a change of clothes, and eventually, I'd have to pack up the house to move into the new one. I looked out the window as we drove; the silence a bitter sweet reminder that nothing was okay just yet.