by Evans, Mike
Joe and Phil both leaned back in their chairs. They weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Their armpits were soaked, and both looked horrific. Harry leaned over next to Dean and said, “Hey, do you have any of that Purell on you, by chance?”
“No. I left my tampons at home too.”
“Oh, aren’t you a funny fuck, Dean.”
Nick smiled, thinking sometimes he missed the back-room banter between the mechanics, but at the same time, he sure didn’t miss all of it. He wasn’t going to hand him his bottle for the life of him. He didn’t want to pull that Band-Aid off knowing what would be coming rushing out of it, and by it he knew it’d be Dean’s mouth with no shortage of comments.
Nick swirled his coffee around, taking a deep breath before slamming half of it at once. His stomach happily took it and immediately began to let him know he had consumed the perfect amount of the darkened brew. Nick’s stomach began to gurgle, and when he stood, realized the shop bathroom was the closest and probably only one that he was going to have time to make it to.
“You all take care of those two. They aren’t looking too hot. I’m sure a couple ibuprofen and they will feel better by lunch. Maybe lay off the bottle. I’d think you guys would be gun nuts, not drinkers, with the factory just a few miles away.”
Harry said, “Oh, don’t you worry. We’ll take care of them or send ‘em home. They aren’t drinkers, and we do love Rock Island Armory. If only they gave the residents free guns, then we’d have the safest place in America.”
Nick wasn’t shy about guns. He’d carried one across his chest through America to the desert and back and he’d never had a close call or issue. “Well, Harry, sometime when we are here again, maybe we could go over there and get a tour. I’d only imagine that my wife would appreciate it if I brought home a blacked out 1911. I mean, who couldn’t smile when they saw that?”
Everyone but the two who were his main reason for getting up, besides the poop brewing, nodded. There was no reason they could think of why a wife wouldn’t be thrilled at the six hundred plus dollar purchase. Nick started to feel a sweat of his own but it was coming from his nether regions and he knew getting to the head was going to be essential to him not having to get his back up suit out of his suitcase, something he’d like to avoid, given the amount of food he’d eaten the night before and knew if he showed up looking super big guy in a little coat with it that his wife would be shaking her head, putting him on a diet, and then to make it even worse, probably have to go suit shopping. Tricia didn’t let the three men in her life, young or old, look like they were homeless.
Nick excused himself looking like he was doing a runway walk with as tight as he was squeezing his butt cheeks, not wanting any previously mentioned things to happen. Dean yelled, to no surprise, “I hope our bidet is up to your standards, Lambert.”
Nick couldn’t afford to start any further conversations at this point and still keep these clothes on. He gave a thumbs up, opening the door to the single person bathroom, feeling a wave of fear that it could be locked. When the knob turned, he already had his ass halfway out of the pants before it clicked shut. He leaned forward from the seat, locking the door and painting the toilet bowl with a singular color that could have been mistaken for a masterpiece by the art community.
Chapter 3
Des Moines
Cara
Cara was trying to not speed, but she was about as punctual of a person as you could be. She hated running late and even more so hated it when her babies made her run late. Even though neither of them were the little ones on the block anymore. She thought about Jake, laughing, knowing that the only people who called him Jake were family. He had been dubbed middle Jake, which did not take a rocket scientist to figure out why. It wasn't easy when there was a block full of Jakes. She didn't know what they would do if a fourth Jake moved in.
Cara was trying to use GPS, but her phone was not doing a great job keeping her in reception. She was glad that she had written it down and that she had an okay idea of where the house was. She spent most of her time these days in the office, but with as bad as the flu had been, more people than she could afford to be gone had called in sick.
Cara used to be a social worker, but now she was more of a coordinator of social workers, and today she was getting to fill in. She'd only been in this new position for a year and not having to drive around the absolute ghettos of Des Moines had not made her sad.
The only reason Cara knew where she was, was from how she’d spent her time earning her current job, and that meant visiting these neighborhoods frequently. She was trying to read the house numbers, at least those that still had the full address on them. Most of these were either rentals or on their way to foreclosure. There was not a lot of middle ground down here. She would smile anytime the kids from the block would suggest anything about them not living in one of the nice neighborhoods, acting as if they had a very difficult life. On more than one occasion, Cara had offered to take the kids down to Des Moines to get a little better idea of what a hard life actually looked like, but she had not had very many takers on it...like none.
When Cara found the street that she needed, she did what a lot of people were too lazy to do. She wanted to see what was going on at the house before going in and presenting herself. She was surprised to see this many children, mostly preteen and teens, outside this early in the morning. She had to fight her daughter to get out of bed by 10:00 on their days off and today was only a school day so there was really no reason why they should not be getting ready for school.
Cara knew that the unfortunate part of all of this was, in these neighborhoods a lot of time, there was lack of education and understanding of finances. That made it difficult for people who wanted to escape poverty. She did her best not to be a bleeding-heart liberal, but it was not always as easy as some people made it out to be. You can tell people all the facts in the world, but if they had something in their head, most likely that was going to be the way things stayed. Cara got a good look at the neighborhood and she felt bad for anyone subjected to living in it.
Cara checked over her folder, seeing she was here to see a woman whose child had not been to school in the last month. It seemed the only thing she did have time to do was cash her welfare checks. Cara got her composure. She knew better than to go into a situation already having made her mind up. But a quick interview mixed with a urine test would be the deciding factors on if this woman would be allowed to keep custody of her child.
She kept the police on speed dial. She knew even the worst mother did not want to lose her children. Unfortunately for a lot of these mothers, it was because they knew that without the children, the things they got for free would be cut down dramatically. Cara hit the alarm on her car and double checked her folder, seeing she was here to see a woman named Susanna Johnson and her daughter, Lucille. When Cara knocked on the door, she heard someone saying, “Hush, now.”
Cara said, “It's Cara Bockes. I'm only here to ask a few questions.”
Whoever was on the other side of the door was not concerned about coming off polite or making her wait. It took the better part of five minutes, and quite a few unpleasant feelings from Cara that no one was going to answer the door, before it ended up opening...finally.
Cara watched to see an adult, but a voice cleared her throat, and she realized of course the kid was the one answering the door. Answering to a complete stranger. Mother of the year this woman would not be, she thought. Cara was no stranger to kids being the key keeper to the parents. The girl said, “Can I help you with something? My momma ain’t feelin’ real good.”
Cara tried not to assume the worst about people, but she instantly was wondering what ‘wasn’t feeling real good’ meant. If it was her needing something to as they said ‘get well again’ or if it was something legit. If healthy people such as herself and her co-workers could still get the flu from hell, then there was a strong chance that Susanna could too.
Cara said, �
�Well, you must be Lucille. How are you doing today? My name is Cara. Don’t you need to be getting ready for school?”
“No, not today Mrs. Cara, I gots to take care of my momma. She’s real sick, and I can’t leave her at home. I gotta make sure she’s okay.”
“Is there any chance that I could come in and talk to her? We had an interview set up for today and I’d like to see her. I don’t want to have to go through the trouble of rescheduling with her. I know how busy she is.”
Even at eight years old, the girl was sharp as a tack. She pulled the door the rest of the way open, asking, “Do you know where you are, lady? You are here to see Susanna, right? I mean you ain’t got the wrong house? No offense, lady, but you know this isn’t all that good of a neighborhood, right? You sure you want to come in? I’d hate for you to get hurt down here. You seem like a real nice lady.”
“There are no bad neighborhoods, Lucille, just bad people. If you had the right neighbors, you could have a great place.”
Lucille snorted, trying not to laugh. She said, “Ain’t no good people going to come down here to live. Good lord, we don’t have a shot in hell of makin’ it out of here.”
“Honey, I hope that you are wrong. I really do. Now, can I please come in and speak with your mother?”
The door shut and a final chain got removed. Lucille pulled the door open, remnants of a possible SpaghettiOs, or previous meal, speckled on her pajamas. She never judged the kids. They were doing as they learned and the best that they could. She knew the girl might be right, but it wasn’t her job to give up on these kids at a young age, or even in their teens. If they just graduated high school it would mean a huge difference in their chances, even more if they joined the service or got an academic or sports scholarship.
Cara walked in, looking around. She hadn’t had to do this in a while, and she thought that her thick skin had gotten a little thinner. She usually wasn’t this quick to feel this bad for a kid before even talking with her parent. If she was going to continue having to fill in occasionally, then she needed to do this part of the job a bit more often. It didn’t matter if she was with a full staff or not; it was necessary. Cara studied the house though, checking off a list of things to look for. She followed Lucille through the small house.
Susanna was on the couch, and Cara immediately began to think there was very little doubt in her mind that Lucille was trying to cover for her mother. This woman was as sick as any she'd ever seen. Susanna just barely recognized that someone else was in the room and said, “What you want?”
The little girl brushed the red hair from her face, taking her mom's hand and saying, “Mom, it's the lady from the government office. You be nice, now. She said she just needs to ask some questions.”
“Oh girl, you'll learn, they always need to be asking questions, but it don't seem like anything good ever comes from it. She's going to try and take you away from me; you just watch.”
Lucille shook her head emphatically, not confident that this nice woman was not going to do any such thing. Lucille replied, “No mama, this here is Mrs. Cara and she's real nice and just wanted to check on you. She said it was going to be a long time before anyone else would be able to come back.”
“Child, you ain't got no damn sense yet. You just wait until you are mama's age, and maybe, just maybe, if you're lucky, you'll have learned a thing or two about a thing or two.”
Cara cleared her throat sitting down in a worn lazy boy seated next to Susanna. Cara said, “I hate stopping over when you aren't feeling good Mrs. Johnson,...”
Susanna laughed, saying, “Shit, I ain't no Mrs. Johnson, thank you very much. You can call me Susanna or Suzy, but I guarantee I ain't proper enough to be no Miss Johnson. Sure as hell ain't no Mrs. Johnson. Why don't you cut through the shit and tell me what you need, ma'am?”
Cara was thinking this was just going splendidly. She replied, “Well it's been quite a while since Lucille has been to school. Her teachers have called in, along with the administration, and basically they’d like to know why she hasn't been there?”
Susanna definitely wasn't on her A game and replied, “Well shit, I've been sick can't you see or are they sending the blind social workers now? God, I wish some of you were blind sometimes.”
“No Susanna, I'm not blind. I'm actually one of the ones in charge. You see, she hasn't been to school in a few months. So, unless you've had mono, which I don't feel like that's the case, there's really no reason why anyone is sick for that long.”
Susanna said, “Well, I'm emotionally sick, you see, and that doesn't go away overnight. You know I don't have the money for any therapy sessions for anybody to try and get my head right neither.”
“You get benefits through the state. You can go to the doctor, the dentist, you can go pretty much to any appointment that you need. They just need to be under your provider…”
Susanna cut her off, sounding fainter, “Okay, okay, I'll get the girl off to school, how does that sound?”
Cara said, “It sounds like a start, but we got a long way to go here. If you want to keep custody of your child, I really need for you to please submit to a urine test, and I wouldn't mind giving you just a quick examination. I really am not trying to be rude, but you do not look well. I’m worried about leaving you with this little girl in your care.”
Susanna looked like she was going to say something, but Lucille stopped her, putting her tiny fingers over her mother's hand. When Lucille pulled her up that was the first time any small amount of sunlight had gotten on Susanna's face. Cara tried not to gasp but it was a feat which was not easy to control. She noticed just how pale the woman was and that she was caked in sweat. It had nothing to do as she had thought originally, since she was wearing a dark sleep shirt pajama set, but that was absolutely not the case at all. Lucille said, “Here, Mama, why don't you let me help you get up.”
Susanna didn't look like she was going to say anything about the child helping her. If Cara had to guess, she might be able to know which one of the two was probably more responsible and the keeper for the other. Susanna got up to her feet, standing still for a moment. Her breathing was shallow and did not sound healthy. Susanna wobbled for about a moment before falling backwards onto the couch, making it bounce backwards a few inches. Cara said, “Why don't you let me get you some help, Susanna? I think you're legitimately ill.”
Susanna was trying to keep her head still and to look at Cara, but it was not as easy as it should have been. Lucille sat down by her mom, squeezing onto her tight. She said, “You ain't going to let them take me are you, Mama? Mama?”
Cara was trying to get cell phone reception, looking around, not surprised that they didn't have a landline. She couldn't blame them as they had never had one, either. But right now, it would most definitely come in handy. Cara said, “Don't you worry about anything, honey, we're just going to get your mama some help. I think bed rest is not going to be enough to get her better. We probably need to get her some help and some medicines. I'm sure a doctor can take one look at your mom and see what is wrong with her. Isn't that right, Susanna?”
Cara had been so focused on the phone she hadn't realized that the woman had become completely unresponsive. Lucille was definitely starting to freak out when she noticed her mom wasn't responding to anything she was doing. But still was shaking her and Cara's oh shit meter was spiking at the moment. Cara said, “Lucille, do you two have a phone?”
Lucille looked around seeing a very cheap old flip phone and pointed to it on a shelf. Cara opened it and tried calling her work to try and rush the help coming in and realized that there was no service on the cheap phone. Cara was trying to think and remembered that even if you did not have service, they still would let you use 911. So, she called that and did her best not to flip out.
Chapter 4
Ames, Iowa
Pyfferoen Pediatric Dental Clinic
Adam was still on his dad’s shoulders. Little pieces of his nose were falling down onto
Murray. Beverly, in full on mom’s tone, screamed, “Adam Goldberg, what in the hell are you doing? You get off your father right now! Dr. Matt, do something for Murray, hurry, please.”
Matt stared, not sure what to say or what she wanted him, as a dentist, to do. Outside of the CPR, he wasn’t real up to date on anything else that was going on here. To say this was out of his specialty would not be an understatement. Beverly’s voice caught Adam’s attention...something very soon she’d not be wanting. Adam jumped off, tackling his mom, sending her backwards and over the dental chair, legs up in the air. Tricia had a perfect view of everything. Adam looked like a fat kid with a chocolate cake, and Beverly was a triple decker at the moment.
