"Bigger than Rand's?" Pete asked, lifting Rand's granny bag.
"By far."
"Oh, fuck off, the both of you. "My god, no wonder her mom gets so pissy." Rand said, shaking her head. "The girl sounds like a loser stuck in the body of a fourteen-year-old skater boy." She sat back in her chair, putting her hand on Pete's thigh.
"Well, I don't know if it's quite that extreme. But she does certainly stick out like a sore thumb in that household. The girl exudes attitude while Jodi sits calmly on the sidelines, watching with adoring, sisterly eyes." I grinned at the description.
"Jodi sounds like a carbon copy of her mother." Keith said.
"Yeah, and Cody is a carbon copy of her father during his hippie days. Does it her way. For that, I admire her. I just think she needs to get a clue about real life."
"Ah, the young." Keith sighed, bringing his wine glass to his lips.
* * *
I picked up the paper as I headed inside, knowing that he wouldn't remember to move it before the rains came. Just as always.
"Hey, city girl. How goes it?" Uncle Bruce asked, opening the screen door for me when he saw me coming toward the house. I smiled, always amused at his nickname for me, referring to my name.
"Hi, Uncle Bruce. Here's your paper."
"Oh, yeah." He smiled sheepishly as he sat down in his recliner, pulling the lever to raise the footrest. He looked okay today, his tall, lanky frame clothed in loose-fitting jeans, and a red and tan checkered flannel tucked into them.
"How did your doctor's visit go?" I asked, setting the paper on the TV tray that sat beside his chair, careful not to disturb the small pyramid of empty beer and soda cans he had built there.
"Oh, he says I need to stop smoking." He grinned, followed by a sickening cough. "I hate that." He grumbled, grabbing the nearby handkerchief to spit into.
"Well, maybe if you had stopped smoking thirty years ago, this wouldn't have happened."
"Let me tell you something, Brooklyn," He leaned forward in his chair, his brows, the only bit of blonde left, his green eyes red. "I smoked my first cigarette over forty-five years ago, and I'm doing just fine. Got me?"
"Yeah, right. So I guess the emphysema is just the doctor's sick joke for you, huh?"
he sat back, nodding.
"Sure, why not."
"God, Uncle, Bruce. You're terrible. How's the house?" I walked past his chair, and headed toward the kitchen, knowing there would likely be dishes for me to do. I could smell them before I even got there. "Uncle Bruce!" I turned to look at him from the kitchen archway, my hands on my hips. He glanced briefly at me over the back of his chair, then turned back to the TV. Shaking my head, I began to clear the sink to run water.
I heard my uncle groan as he got himself to his feet, and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and leaned against the counter, watching me.
"Uncle Bruce, how many of those have you had today?" I asked, nodding toward the Bud. He glanced down at it.
"Two."
"Yeah, plus three more, I'm sure. You need to slow down. One of these days you'll actually listen to your doctor. Maybe then you'll realize he's right."
"Eh, what do they know?" He popped the top, and took a long drink, eyes closed as a smile formed on his lips. Green eyes opened, and a wrinkled old hand raised to brush gray hair off his forehead. "You sounded just like Amy just then." I looked at him, thinking of my great-aunt, and his long dead wife.
"Why's that?"
"Oh, she liked to nag at me, too."
He chuckled as he moved away from my swatting hand.
"Nah, just it's nice to be looked after. You're a good girl, Brooklyn. Always was."
"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself."
"Well, I must be. Can't seem to get my own dirty dishes warshed."
"That's okay, old fella, grab a dish rag. You're going to dry." His eyes widened as he looked from me to the pile of dishes in the sink, then back up to me. "Uncle Bruce, it's not going to kill you to do something for yourself."
"Ehhh," he grumbled.
"Stop. Here." I tossed a towel at him. "You do know where everything goes, don't you?"
"Kiddo, these dishes were in these cabinets before your mom and dad decided to burn some time on a Friday night."
"Uncle Bruce!" I wrinkled my nose at the thought. He chuckled, turning on the hot water to rinse the washed pile of silverware. "How did you and Aunt Amy meet? You know, in all these years, I've never asked you that." I thought for a moment as I scrubbed at a plate with caked-on-something-red on it.
"Oh, we had a pretty common story, I guess. Well, for that time, anyway. It was the war, and you know in those days all the men went off to fight, and their lady friends were back home waiting. Well, I met Amy the night before I left to join my mates on board the S.S. Harry Truman. We all went to a dance, you see, and there she was." He smiled, making him look ten years younger. I smiled in turn, charmed at the love that I saw shining in his eyes. My uncle was a hard man for the most part, rarely, if ever, showing how he truly felt about you. Especially when I was younger. I never truly knew where I stood with him, always staying clear. But the older he got, the more I began to understand him.
He was trying to protect himself.
"So, did you ask her to dance, you old dog?" I asked.
"Oh, no." He laughed. "She was there with a date, I'm afraid. Proctor, I believe his name was. Larry Proctor. They was engaged to marry, and so I just sat with my buddies and watched her. I got her name through some of the boys who had known her older sister. Amy was a few years my junior, you know."
"Oh yeah? How much?" I handed him the plate, and he began to rinse it off.
"Oh, let me think. I was near twenty-two at that time, and she was still in school, probably around fifteen or sixteen or so. Things were different in those days." He stacked the plate neatly on the small pile of its siblings.
"So what happened"
"Well, I never forgot about her when I was over fighting them Nazis. I was moved to France, and wouldn't you know it, Proctor was on my ship. He would tell me all about his lady back home, and then one day we got ambushed while reloading the ship with supplies." He sighed, shaking his head as he tried to get his large hand inside a glass to dry it. "Larry didn't make it."
"Oh, no." I looked over at him, seeing the past wash before his eyes as his hand had stopped, still inside the glass, his eyes looking through the floor. Shaking himself, he looked at me.
"Anyway, so a letter came for him from Amy, a letter that had been sent and lost, and had found us a few month's later. My superior gave it to me to take home for his family, and I got her address. I decided to send her my condolences." He smiled at me, the light coming back into his eyes. "We had thirty years together before she was taken from me."
"I wish I would have gotten to know her."
"Oh, I think you would have liked her just fine. Wonderful, wonderful lady. I'm just sorry we didn't get to have any kids."
"Why didn't you?" I started in on the pan that I was dreading the most. I had no idea what, or how long, had been stuck to it. Quite effectively baked on.
"You're uncle can be a stubborn old bastard, is why we didn't." He looked at me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Never let yourself regret today what you could have done yesterday, Brooklyn. It's not pleasant. You hear me?" I nodded. "Good. Now, let's get going on these damn dishes that some lazy old fool left."
* * *
"Come, come, Rand." I hurried up the wooden spiral staircase I had put in the year I moved in, and hurried into my bedroom where the covers had already been drawn, and the TV and DVD player awaited commands.
"I'm coming, I'm coming. It's not exactly easy to run up these stairs with an armload of fattening food, you know. I swear the calories weigh them down."
"Stop bitching, and get your ass in here."
Finally she managed to get to my bedroom, and dumped her load onto the bed. I stared down at the package of Oreos, box of Goldfish crackers, and eight-pack of Hi-C juice drinks. It would go well with my package of Capri Suns, and tin of carrot cake with plenty of cream cheese frosting; my favorite part.
"So what did you get?" she asked, nodding toward the stack of DVDs I'd rented, as she stuck the entire Oreo cookie into her mouth.
"How many times do I have to show you the correct way to eat one of those?" I grabbed a cookie, and twisted until the top came off. I showed her the two halves, raising the hand with the half that had the cream on it. "Lick, bite, pop." I licked the cream off with one swipe of my tongue, then bit the chocolate cookie in half, and popped the whole thing in my mouth.
"Oh, sorry my control freak. Do forgive me." I smacked her as she grinned.
"And I got quite an eclectic group. Some horror called Pitch Black."
"Oh, Vin Diesel you melt my heart, and my undies."
"Ew, Rand. I got us some action with The Long Kiss Goodnight, and finally a few romantic comedies starring the goddess' themselves, Sandra Bullock, Meg Ryan, and Julia Roberts."
"Oh, I bow to you, dear Brookie."
"As you should. Rentals are getting expensive these days."
"Oh, I know! One night me and Pete rented four movies, four," she held up four fingers," and it cost over twenty bucks."
"I hear ya."
"God, we're getting old. Who the hell would have thought us sitting here during girl's night and moaning about the price hikes of movie rental places?"
I laughed, nodding as I popped the yellow straw through the foil of the Capri Sun.
"Remember the birthdays at your place? How we'd rent a gazillion movies, usually only watching at most one."
We both laughed at the memory.
"Oh man, and all the junk food we'd have?"
"Oh! Do you remember Maria Maestas?" Rand asked excitedly.
"Oh my god! I had completely forgotten about her. How the hell do you remember that name?"
"How could I forget? All the food she could pack away? Remember the time she ate an entire box of zingers then lied about it? Saying they got stolen?" I fell back on the bed as laughter wracked through me. "And remember the time your dad dressed up in that stupid monster suit to scare the crap out of all us twelve year olds?"
My laughter slowed, and I sat up.
"Yeah, I do remember that. So, what movie first?" Rand looked at me for a moment, then smiled at me, her hand on my leg.
"You pick."
* * *
The day was nice, the sun beginning to fall behind the buildings along my path as I rode my bike through the streets. I had needed to stretch my legs, feeling so cramped up inside all day long, staring at copy, and dealing with clients that could be less than complimentary sometimes.
I pedaled along, nice and easy, but at a brisk pace. It always felt so satisfying after a good ride. I often teased Keith telling him it was better than sex. If he only knew I was usually serious to some degree in that statement.
I was getting near the park, and I was glad. The traffic was heavy, and some of the city's worst drivers had been let out on good behavior, or something. Does no one use a turn signal anymore? I can't say how many times I've damn near been wiped out by one of those thoughtless assholes. I swear, it was like, huh, lady on bike. Don't see that everyday. Maybe I'll just turn here. If she keeps her helmet on, extra points.
Bastards.
I turned onto the path that would lead through the park, which was fairly dead on a weeknight in late February.
It had rained earlier, and the path had all the little puddles that I loved to ride through, splashing up to cool me off a bit. The grass was wet, the dirt around the flower beds, mud.
I glanced over to the right as the skate park came into view. I could hear kids in there before I even saw them, their skateboarding apparatus, which I think is called a half pipe, first in sight, a figure standing on top of it waiting for his turn.
As I neared, I braked to a stop, wanting to watch for a second. These kids were incredible on a piece of wood with four wheels attached. I was impressed, and had no idea how they did half the stuff on those things that they did.
I glanced up at the figure, and was surprised to see that it was Cody Thomlin. She wore shorts that reached below her knees, pockets everywhere, and a sweatshirt that must have been three sizes too large for her.
She put her board on top of the thing, then turned her head to talk to someone on the ground below. As she chatted, her eyes looked at me. I smiled, and gave her a small wave. She just nodded acknowledgement, then kicked her board off the side, hopping on top of it as she went.
Shaking my head in amazement, and thinking she was nuts, I started riding again.
Part 3
With a contented sigh, I turned over, pulling the covers up a bit more, a smile on my face as my dream continued.
Ring, ring, ring.
Browns drawn, I tried to sink deeper into sleep, my mind not registering the real life interruption.
Ring, ring, ring.
My eyes shift, nose crinkling in distaste.
Ring, ring, ring.
Eyes pop open.
"Shit!" Suddenly very awake, I reached over and grabbed the phone, bringing it to my ear. "Hello?" There was a pause, and I was just about on the verge of being pissed off when I heard her speak.
"Um, is Brooklyn there?" The voice wasn’t familiar to me, and sounded far away, unsure.
"This is she. Who is this?" I glanced over at the bedside clock, my eyes narrowing when I saw it was almost two in the morning on a Tuesday night.
"This is Cody Thomlin. Rhonda’s daughter." I sat up, suddenly very worried.
"Yes, of course. What happened? Are you okay? Is your mom alright?"
"Yeah, I’m sure she’s in bed. Um, do you know where the police station is?" Again my eyes narrowed, this time in confusion.
"Sure."
"Can you come by and, oh, bring a hundred bucks with you?"
"What? Wait, what happened?" I heard the girl sigh.
"I got arrested."
"I figured that. Why?"
"Fight. Me and the boys were hanging out at the park when Jimmy’s girlfriend showed up. The bitch never liked me, and popped me. If you think I’m just going to stand there and let that hag beat on me, you’re crazy."
"Okay, okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Sit tight, and don’t go anywhere." I heard her snort.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Oh. Sorry. See you soon."
I hung the receiver up, fully awake now. As I slipped into a pair of sweats and a sweat shirt, I thought about my friend, Rhonda. My love and appreciation for her and all that she had done for me was the only reason I was even bothering with this. I had no idea how I’d break this to Rhonda, or even if it was my place to.
Shaking my head to clear it, I stuck a baseball cap on my sleep-messy hair, grabbed my car keys and wallet, and hurried to the garage.
As would be expected, the streets of Portland were dead. Even the kids had better things to do at nearly two-thirty in the morning. Well, apparently not all the kids. What the hell were they doing out this late, anyway? Did Rhonda know her daughter was out to all hours of the night?
The lights of the PPD came into view, and I had the pick of the litter for parking spots in front of the building, save for a few odd-ball police cars parked in a cluster at the north end. Clicking the automatic locks in place, I hurried inside, my heart in my throat. I had never been to the police station before, and certainly not to pick up a criminal.
No, now Brooklyn stop it. This girl is Rhonda’s kid. Find out the details before you start to judge.
"Can I help you, ma’am?" the desk officer asked.
"Yes, I’m here to pick up Cody Thomlin."
"Okay," she turned to her computer and typed something in, then grabbed the handset of her phone. "Bring up Cody Thomlin." After typing in a few more things, she turned to me. "Do you have an I.D., ma’am?"
"Uh, yeah." I opened my wallet, and flipped open the compartment where my license was. She took it, and yet again began typing information.
"The bond is a thousand dollars. You can either pay the entire thing now, or ten percent." She looked at me expectantly.
"Oh, uh, I’ll pay the hundred."
"Okay." Her fingers ran across the keyboard yet again. I bent down to write out a check when I heard a door open. I glanced up and saw Cody appear, holding her sweater in her hand. She looked awful; her cargo pants had a few spots of blood on the knee, her tank was torn across the stomach and covered with dirt. My eyes raised to her face, her half-hooded eyes, full of contempt, yet red-rimmed. A shiner blanketed the underside of her right one, and several scrapes and what looked to be scratch marks littered her cheeks and forehead. With a sad sigh, I turned back to my check, quickly signed my name, and tore it from the book, handing it to the officer.
"She’s free to go." She said to me, then looked at Cody. "You were notified when your court date is?" The girl nodded. The officer turned back to her work, and I turned to my charge.
"Well, let’s go."
She said nothing as she made her way toward the door, and I led us toward my car.
"So, where’s the other girl?" She brought her hand up, pointing her thumb back toward the police station. "Is she in as bad of shape as you?" I unlocked the doors, and she got in, grabbing her seatbelt. I got in behind the wheel.
"Worse," she muttered.
"How did this happen, Cody? Why were you out so late?"
"Are you part of the Spanish Inquisition, or what?" She looked out the side window as I got us moving.
Stunned, I was silent for a moment. Okay, so I’d leave that to Rhonda. Maybe I’d try to stick with safer questions.
"So, why does that girl dislike you so much?"
"Which girl?"
"Is there more than one? The one who thought your face was a steak to be tenderized." She smirked, but did not look at me.
"She thinks me and Jimmy have something going on the side."
"Do you?" She looked over at me like I was nuts.
"Fuck no. Me and Jimmy have been fiends since we were kids, and he’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him, but date him."
"Ah. Got it. Okay, go on."
"So, she sees all of us hanging, and decides it’s a good time to get her ass kicked, and some old asshole who lives around the park calls the cops."
"Is this the skate park?" She nodded, turning back to the window.
"Chick needs to learn how to chill out."
"Maybe she’s learned her lesson."
"Shit, I doubt it. This isn’t the first time she’s jumped me, sure as hell won’t be the last."
"Is there somewhere you need to be, Cody?" She shook her head.
"Folks think I’m out with Jimmy."
"Will it make things worse if I take you home?" I glanced over at her in time to see her shrug.
"I’m not sure." I sighed, thinking for a moment.
"Okay, I’m going to take you to my place, okay?"
"Whatever."
I was silent for a moment as I thought of what to say to the girl. There was so much anger inside her; she damn near radiated the heat. Finally deciding to give her some space, I concentrated on the road, feeling the sleepiness begin to seep in again. I didn’t even want to try and guess what time it was, and didn’t want to think about how I’d get through my day tomorrow.
Pulling into the driveway, I opened the mechanical garage opener, and pulled in. When I glanced over at my passenger, I was surprised to see she had drifted off, her head back against the headrest, eyes tightly closed.
I stared at the back wall of the garage, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Had I done the right thing to get involved with this? God, what will Rhonda do? I glanced over at her again, not sure how to wake her. To my relief, I didn’t have to worry about it. Blue eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked around, squinting as the garage light shined into her eyes.
"Come on, Cody." I unbuckled myself, and got out of the car, hearing her door open as well. I found the house key, and opened the door that would lead to the short hall that would take us into the living room. "Let’s get you cleaned up." She followed me up the stairs, her hand running along the railing of the spiral staircase, trying to keep herself upright, was my guess.
I flicked on the light in the bathroom in my room, where all my medical supplies were, and turned to see her leaning against the bathroom door.
"Sit." I pointed to the toilet lid. She sat, looking up at me.
"I’ll pay you back the money," she said, her voice low, tired.
"Don’t worry about it." I grabbed the peroxide and cotton balls from the cabinet, and the bacetracin from the medicine cabinet above the sink. I bent down in front of her. "This is going to hurt." I poured the peroxide on one of the cotton balls, and brought it to her cheek. To her credit she barely flinched. "Just keep your nose clean." I threw the bloody cotton ball away, and grabbed a new one, working on the cut at the corner of her mouth. "So, why did you call me?"
She shrugged. "You were the only adult I could think of that would have a hundred bucks." She glanced up at me. "Besides, my mom would have had a fucking cow."
I began to apply the antiseptic.
"Listen, Cody. This trip wasn’t completely free for you." I stood, twisting the lid on the small tube of ointment, and putting it back in the cabinet. I turned back to the girl. "You only get one get out of jail free card. And, you have to tell your mom."
Angry eyes looked up at me.
"What?" She stood, giving me pause for just a moment before I got myself calmed down. I looked her in the eye.
"This kind of stuff doesn’t just get shrugged off."
"God, you’re all the same!" She pushed out of the bathroom, and stood in the middle of the room. "You want me to go home or what?" Taking several deep breaths before I could face her, I turned.
"No. I want you to go to bed. You’ll find if you take a right out that door, go around the stairs, and there’s a guest bedroom just on the other side to the right. Do you need anything to sleep in?"
She shook her head, seeming to calm.
"Good night, Cody."
"Night," she grumbled, and was gone.
I walked to the door of the solarium, looking out the wall of windows, seeing the pitch black of night beyond.
* * *
I squeezed my eyes shut as I sat up in the bed, the burning sensation making me want to just flop right back down and go back to sleep.
Not a chance.
I had a big day ahead of me, and couldn’t miss it. Then I remembered my houseguest, and felt bad for a second as I thought about checking the house to make sure all was well. Instead, I headed toward the bathroom where I got the water started as I went to the bathroom, closing my eyes at the release. No matter how much or how little I drank before bed, I always seemed to have to pee a river the next morning.
Flushing, and the water at the right temperature, I threw my tee and underwear off, and climbed under the hot spray, a moan escaping my throat as the water chased away the early morning chill. As the water rushed over me, my hands smoothing my hair back, face raised to the spray, I thought about how I’d act with Cody. Hopefully in the light of day she’d relax a little, and realize that I was not the enemy, and in fact thought she deserved a chance.
* * *
"Cody," I looked at the girl, but saw no movement. She was laying on her side, the covers half on the floor, half on her, her hair covering half her face. "Cody," I reached out, putting my hand on her shoulder, gently nudging her. I got a groan. Glancing at the clock on the dresser, I saw that though I would not be missing a day of work, I’d certainly be late for one.
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