“We could spend this time talking if you want,” Monica offered.
“Or not,” Aquilla replied, logging onto her computer.
The look between the two women sitting next to each other in the front seat didn’t go unnoticed.
I’m not going to go into the details about the accident, Quill. I can’t. It was horrific. I knew something bad was going to happen. We were going so fast. I knew my mother had removed her seatbelt and slid over to hold scared, crying Quill on her lap. She shouldn’t have done that. She should have kept them both secured.
I crawled out the window of the overturned car first. I was dazed, but wasn’t hurt. I looked up the bank and saw the police cars sliding to stops up the hill. I turned and saw my mother’s legs hanging from beneath the car. I didn’t see Quill until my father grabbed my arm and pulled me away. Her feet were beneath my mother’s body, one shoe on, one shoe thirty feet from the car.
He just left them there, Quill. He never even tried to remove the car. I knew, even at the age of ten, that she had no identification on her. My father refused to let any of us take anything with us that day. Humph, I guess I learned to do the same thing as I got older. I never carried identification if I was working a deal. To this day, my mother and little sister are known by Jane and daughter Doe.
That is so fucked up, Quill. They are in a cemetery somewhere in New York with a marker that reads Jane and Daughter Doe. Do you want to know what her name was? Sure you do. Her name was Sarina, and she was so pretty, Quill.
We didn’t walk very far before we were back to civilization. I remember him pulling me into an alley once when we saw a police car creeping along the street, searching for us, I was sure. I’m sure he had gone crazy at that moment. He wasn’t talking. He never said one word to me.
Once we made it back to that warehouse to retrieve our bags, he made me go to the bathroom and we both changed clothes. He told the guy that we had gotten the car from to burn my mother and Quill’s things. I started crying. He was just throwing them away. I’ll never forget that look in his eyes when he grabbed both my shoulders and shook me. He was no doubt crazy.
He yelled and told me that I wasn’t allowed to cry. He told me that it was business and sometimes things happen that we can’t control. My mother and sister being crushed by a car was just business.
The man from the warehouse drove us to the busy streets and dropped us off. I didn’t understand what we were doing. Were we really going to the parade? His wife and daughter were dead, and we were going to a fucking parade.
I really don’t know if we went there for that reason or not. Maybe we were there because he promised. You know how we Chavez’s are when it comes to keeping our word. When we stood beside you and your mother, I watched you climb out of your stroller and then watched your mother place back in. I didn’t care about the parade anymore. I wanted to leave. I wanted my mother and my little sister. I wanted to cry and I sure as fuck didn’t want to watch the stupid parade.
The next time you climbed out of the stroller, your mother’s back was turned. She was waving down the elbow to elbow sidewalk for someone to see her. You knelt right in front of us to pick up an unnoticed piece of candy.
My father picked you up, took my hand and walked us through the crowd. Nobody stopped him, nobody paid attention. I heard your mother’s frantic screaming by the time we were at the end of the block. I wonder now how all of those people let you slip through the crack like that. I guess nobody was paying attention to a girl being kidnapped. They were all busy with their own agendas.
You should have cried and screamed, Quill. You didn’t. You were always too, over zealous when it came to talking to strangers. You just wanted my balloon. My father gave it to you and you were as happy as could be.
Even at ten, I couldn’t believe what was happening. Forty minutes later, we were on a plane. Nobody asked questions. I remember my father giving you some kind of liquid in a plastic spoon. Something to make you sleep, I’m sure. You did sleep, and he covered your head with a blanket and handed over your passport. He walked you right through customs without one problem. You were Aquilla from that day forward.
I wanted to hate you, Quill. My father brought you into our home as an imposter. You were not my little Quill. I avoided you for the first two days we were home. I was sad. I wanted my mother, my sister, and my father had lost his mind. Even as a boy, I knew this wasn’t right. He treated you as if you weren’t a fraudulent of the real Quill. I tried to treat you like you didn’t exist.
That changed on the third night. For three whole days, you danced around and played without a care in the world. On the third night, you realized something was amiss. You were playing with the real Quill’s toys while I ignored you. You looked up to me with those water blue eyes and said. “Where my mommy go?” It broke my heart even as young as I was.
I realized then that you never asked for any of this. You were a victim as much as my mother and my sister. I held you in my arms that night while you cried yourself to sleep. I knew you were too young to understand, but I told you that I wanted my mommy too. I cried with you. I cried because I wanted you to go home to your mommy, and I wanted mine to come home to me.
After that night, you never let me ignore you. You followed me around like an instinctual orphaned lamb. I guess it was my instinctual habitat to adopt you, nurture you, and take care of you. I did. I became your protector. You became my responsibility. I wasn’t allowed to say the M word around you. My father wanted you to forget the “mommy” word. You did. It took a little while, but you finally forgot all about having a mommy that you were taken from.
Thinking about it infuriates me. I blame so many people. I blame your mother for not strapping you into that stroller. I blame the thousands of people that stood around while my father walked you right out of the country. I blame your real father for not being there to protect you. I blame my mother for taking off her seatbelt to hold Quill. But, the only people to really blame here is my father, and maybe even me.
Although I couldn’t have done anything at the age of ten, I could have later on. I could have reported your whereabouts once I was older. I didn’t for my own selfish reasons. I loved you too much to ever let you go. You were the shine in my sun, and I didn’t want to live without you. I know it was self-centered, and I wish now that I would have. I know that if you are reading this, you are alone and scared. I’m with you, baby. My heart will always be with you. You are secure in my arms, always baby.
Aquilla slammed the laptop shut on that note. She had an aching in her chest that she had never felt before. And, of course, the tears had to surface. Fuck. She didn’t want to answer to Seri or this Monica bitch.
“Quill?” Seri said in a question, seeing her wipe her eyes and stare out the window, avoiding eye contact.
“Leave me alone,” she demanded.
Seri looked to Monica. She was the one with the PhD. She didn’t know what the hell to say to her. Monica shook her head, telling her to leave her alone.
Seri did leave her alone until they saw the little trailer that Liz had mentioned up ahead.
“Quill, do you want an eggroll?”
“No!”
“Come on, Monica and I are going to have one. Let’s get out and get lemonade and something to tie us over until supper.”
Monica pulled off the side of the road.
“You coming?” she asked, turning around to look at her, sitting slumped with crossed arms.
“No. Seri, stay here for a second,” Aquilla answered, wanting to be alone with Seri.
“Order us both a couple eggrolls and lemonade,” Seri requested.
“What’s going on, Quill?” Seri asked, turning to her.
“Seri, you’ve got to help me get out of here. I don’t belong here. I don’t want to be here. I have to find Julius. Please, Seri,” She pleaded.
Seri took a deep breath. She couldn’t imagine what she was going through, but what the hell was she supposed to do?
Where did this even come from? She was fine when they left.
“Quill, please give this a chance. You’ve only been here for three days. Monica is going to help you work through these feelings.”
“I don’t want Monica. I want Julius. Can’t you understand that?”
“Quill, you can’t have Julius. You don’t even know where he is. Do you really think that he is somewhere sitting around waiting for you to find him? He’s probably already training someone else.”
“Fuck you, Seri. He’ll find me, you just wait. He’ll fine me.”
“Julius is not coming for you, Quill,” Seri assured her with the cold hearted truth.
Whatever, she would see. She didn’t need Seri or anyone else. She would find him, one way or another. She would.
“Everything okay?” Monica asked, as she entered with the greasy smelling food and tray full of drinks.
“Yup, just fucking great,” Aquilla replied, turning her attention back toward the window and away from bitch face Seri.
Monica looked over to Seri, wondering what the hell just happened. Seri shrugged her shoulders and took the drinks.
Aquilla, of course, didn’t want food or drinks and thought the eggrolls looked disgusting. Seri and Monica ate theirs and loved them. Liz was right. They were delicious.
The GPS coming from the dash informed them that they would turn right in 19 more miles. Seri looked back to Quill, still contemplating whatever was on her mind.
“Monica, Quill needs to get stoned before we get there,” Seri blurted out.
Aquilla perked up. Hell yeah. That was exactly what she needed. It relaxed her and the last time she did it, she had figured out how to break Julius’s code. Maybe something would come to her that would help her locate him. Talin sure wasn’t any help, her so-called friend never even texted her back. She knew why though. She knew that her father had picked up and moved them away as soon as he got word of the raid at her house. She didn’t have that cellphone anymore. Her father would have made sure of that.
Monica almost swerved off the road. Surely her best friend hadn’t just suggested what she thought she had. She looked into the rearview mirror at Quill, miraculously in a better mood all of a sudden and then over to Seri with disbelieving eyes. Fuck. She was going to get them both fired.
“Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?” she asked with a look that told her to stop, like right that second.
“She’s smoked it before, Monica. It’s fine, and I really don’t want to deal with this attitude for the next five days.”
“Fuck you, Seri,” Quill called from the backseat.
“See,” Seri said, gesturing to the back seat with an open palm.
“Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you? You don’t give someone with issues a mind altering drug.”
“She is sitting right behind you, and she doesn’t have issues, just a fucked up life. I’m not going to tell anyone. I am a good secret keeper, just ask Seri, here,” Aquilla guaranteed.
“What is she talking about, Seri -- I mean Sarah? Oh fuck. This is bad. This is so bad. How is it that you seem to always land us in these messes?”
“Nothing,” Seri, replied, giving Aquilla a death glare.
“No. It’s not ‘nothing.’ I’m here to help her. You guys can’t keep secrets from me. What is she talking about, Sarah.”
“Let’s burn this before we get there,” Seri said, derailing the question that she was now going to have to answer, thanks to A-fucking-Quilla.
“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy,” Monica chanted, over and over, watching Seri light the joint and hand it back to Quill.
Aquilla hit the joint next and held it between the seats. “You hitting this, Mo?” she asked, holding the smoke in her lungs. Seri smiled at her calling her Mo. Seri had called her Mo since the day she had met her.
“Of course I am. If I’m going to lose my job, I may as well do it in style,” she decided, taking the skinny joint from Quill.
Quill and Seri both felt better, Monica, not so much. She was freaking out. She couldn’t believe that they had just smoked weed with a 17 year old. She was going to kill her friend, first chance she got. She was dead.
“Okay, you’re both stoned off your ass. Quill’s mother is going to know that we are all high, and we’re both going to be looking for new jobs. Tell me what the big secret is,” Monica demanded.
Aquilla scooted up and hunched between the two seats. “Well, you see, Mo,” Aquilla started and then laughed when Seri cut her off.
“You sit back and shut your mouth. I curse the day I met you,” Seri said in a loud tone.
“The day you met me or the day you tasted me?” she asked, and then burst out laughing. Shit, this weed made everything funny.
“I’m warning you. I will leave with Monica and leave your skinny ass to fend for yourself.”
“Fuck that. If you leave me, I’ll be gone in a heartbeat,” Quill promised.
“Just freaking tell me,” Monica commanded again.
“It’s nothing really, just Seri here licked my twat when I was only 16,” Aquilla blurted out, still laughing. She couldn’t help it. The look on Seri’s face was epic.
“I fucking hate you. You’re such a little bitch,” Seri scolded with a scowl, which of course sent Aquilla into another laughing frenzy. “You’re never smoking weed again,” she threatened.
“Seri?” Monica said, looking over to her, wanting some answers.
“I didn’t know she was 16. I thought she was 18,” Seri explained. She had to. Big mouth Quill already spilled the beans.
“What did you do!?!” Monica demanded to know, looking back to Quill still laughing. Seri was right. That girl wasn’t getting anymore weed.
“I do hate you,” Seri reminded Quill again.
“Sarah!” Monica yelled.
“I did what she said I did when I was there working undercover, but she did it too,” she whined like she was tattling on Quill.
Aquilla doubled over. This needed to stop. Her gut ached. “But I didn’t get you off,” she said with laughing words.
“You would have, had Julius not stopped you.”
More laughing. This was too much.
“Sarah! You did not,” Monica hoped.
“Yes, Mo, I did, and this little snitch bitch promised to keep her mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry,” Aquilla apologized trying to keep a straight face.
“Fuck you,” Seri retorted.
More laughing, Aquilla couldn’t breathe anymore.
“I can’t work with either of you. You’re both crazy. Sarah, you actually___?” she asked with raised eyebrows. She couldn’t say it, let alone believe it.
Seri couldn’t say it either, but Aquilla didn’t seem to be having a problem with it.
“Yup, she licked my pussy until I had one hell of a mind blowing orgasm. Did I ever thank you for that Seri?” she asked as if they were talking about a tea party.
“You can open your door and jump now,” Seri offered.
“Give her one of those eggrolls to kill her buzz. We can’t take her to her mother laughing like some crazy person.”
“No. I’m done. I promise,” Quill assured her, wiping tears with her shirt.
Seri looked back and shook her head, letting her know that she couldn’t believe that she just did that. She would get over it. Aquilla was sure of it. She had just met Monica and could already tell that she wasn’t your typical psychologist. For whatever reason, she liked her. She wasn’t sure about talking to her and telling her about all of the skeletons in her closest, but she nonetheless did like her.
Aquilla’s alertness piqued as they followed the robotic voice down the long lane of trees. She could see the lake and was a little excited about the water. She missed the ocean and hoped that it helped with the nostalgia. It wouldn’t. Nothing was ever going to be the same again, not until she found Julius anyway.
The house was pretty secluded and was a lot bigger than what sh
e had pictured. She was picturing some old cabin or shack or something. It wasn’t at all. It was a beautiful log cabin with a covered porch running the whole length of the house. It reminded her of an Auguste Renoir painting. She wasn’t in to art, per se, she was just aware of the painting that hung over her bed for four years. It was signed by Auguste Renoir.
“I’m going to check out the lake,” Aquilla announced as soon as the car stopped.
“You should probably go meet your grandparents first,” Seri countered.
“I will in a minute. I just want to see the lake first.”
Monica watched her walk toward the lake and instantly turned to Seri. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I have no freaking idea, Mo.”
“You went down on her? A girl?”
Seri shook her head with a puff of her own disbelieving breath. “I did what I had to do. I didn’t know at the time who she was, let alone that she was only 16. Had I protested, my cover would have been blown, they would have run, and I would be on this case for another year.”
“Oh my God, Sarah. Did she do it to you too?”
“Yes,” Seri answered honestly. She told Monica everything. She always had, but she was sure she would have never volunteered that information had it not been for big mouth Quill.
“And you turned her on to weed? Are you looking for another job?”
“I can’t even explain it to you, Mo. It’s something that I can’t explain. I just feel compelled to, I don’t even know. I told you I can’t explain it. You’re the quack. You tell me.”
“Codependent, you idiot. You’re making her too dependent on you. I haven’t been around her for two hours, and I can already tell that she has placed a shield between her mother and herself. I think you need to leave so that she can bond with her family.”
“Yeah, well tell Houston that. He still thinks she is going to lead us to Julius.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. She doesn’t know where he is. If she did, she would have already run.”
“No more smoking pot with her. I can’t believe you did that.”
Plausibility Page 20
