14.

“She looks peaceful now,” Wyatt said, watching me stroke Aisha’s hair. Aisha and Joie were sound asleep, but Wyatt seemed to be waking up instead of getting sleepier. Maybe instinct kicking in—she was in very unfamiliar territory.

Our little cop convoy had pulled over into this strip mall parking lot after Friendly got a call from whoever it was that he was outside having a pretty heated argument with. All we'd heard before we stopped was, “What the hell—why?!” And then he rolled down his window, waved to the other cars as he pulled into the strip mall and leapt out of the car cussing a blue streak.

I looked down at Aisha and finger combed some of that wispy baby hair that goes all around her face. I could see the little girl I knew once when she was asleep. Back then, we would sometimes go hide in a culvert or something and take naps on real hot days—not in a wash or anyplace dangerous. Just in the ones they leave out sometimes, waiting to be put somewhere. We knew all kinds of places to chill. Places safer than home.

“Yeah, I like her like this,” I said, just sort of teasing, though. “Unconscious…”

“Well, she clearly adores you.”

I smiled down at her, and said, “Oh, it’s mutual. We go back, this one and me. I. Whatever.”

Wyatt chuckled and watched a little more.

And then she said, “So you’ve all known each other for a long time.”

“Actually, no. Mike and Cat are sort of recent. Well…more recent. This one grew up with me, sort of. We had pretty messed up childhoods, to be honest. Her mother was in the game, as they call it--worked the streets. Sold dope. And my mother…well…”

I smiled softly and decided to just go there.

“My mother was, like…well, she was…a little slow. Short bus material. I know how that sounds, but…it’s true--aren’t you tired at all?”

She turned her whole body toward me. So from that, I figured I’d gotten my answer.

But she said, “You are.”

“I’m dead,” I said. “I mean, God, what a day, right? Especially for you.”

She let her head fall against the back of the seat and signed.

“I’m in too much pain to be sleepy,” she said.

“Already?”

“Oh, I get my hangovers immediately. I don’t know…what possessed me…”

“I do. I mean, a day like today—anyone’d self-medicate, right?”

She closed her eyes as if she was trying to steady herself and make the headache pass. But with her eyes closed, she said, “We were…talking about your mother…”

“Well, she was what they call MIMR. Or, that Hernandez guy told me the new way they say it. But she was, like…about nine-years-old, mentally. I mean, I’m not sure what the official age range was, but it felt that way sometimes. She was so defenseless, Gracie.”

“I think Aisha mentioned that you raised the children. Your siblings.”

“Yeah, I pretty much did. There’d be some bum there for a while, but they never lasted past that first infatuation with her looks and that…wide eyed innocence. Once they realized it was, like…a mental disability thing…I dunno. It creeped them out. Like they’d been sleeping with a kid, you know—they felt like pedophiles or something.”

I paused to run through my mental photo album of ne’er do wells and fuck ups she’d hooked up and had kids with over the years. Snorted.

“Used to beat hell out of me, that’s for sure,” I told her.

That got those eyes open. A little.

“They beat you?”

“Yeah, well…she would mind me over them,” I said. “I mean, I was the one who’d be there for her when they ran off. And even when they were there, they didn’t wanna have anything to do with us kids. At first they’d do little token stuff…things they thought Gracie would like. But…pretty soon, they’d be annoyed all the time. I think we spent most of our early years outside somewhere. Tryin’ not to bother whoever was there at the time. And I hadda learn the system pretty quick. It’s a full time job, just workin’ it, you know? People think poor people are lazy, but the hoops you have to jump every damned day just to get the basics…I mean, they put up all these hurdles, stuff you don’t have when you’re homeless or can’t afford a phone or something…”

I stopped there because it was making me angry. Thinking about all the times I couldn’t apply for something because we didn’t have an address or a phone number or ID cards or something. Or the numbers that were busy all day, when we only had the one day to call or we wouldn’t get whatever—having to find a working pay phone was exhausting. You make note of all the working ones and hope nobody busts the phone before you get that call back at the time you said you’d be “available.”

How was a woman with the mind of a child gonna keep up with all that when the real adults I knew got discouraged trying?

I finally just said, “You’re set up to fail. I mean, they really don’t want to help, in the end—you’d think people who went into that type of work would be more compassionate. But it’s like…they take survival of the fittest to heart in the system. It’s set up to be a safety net, but they’d just as soon let you fall right through it. Or go on and just…starve and be done with it.”

She reached over and put her hand on my arm. And squeezed it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not like you were there watching or something.”

“Someone should say it.”

“Real bleeding heart, huh? Anybody ever thank you?”

She frowned, and said, “For?”

“Alla stuff you do for those kids. I gotta tell you, I was starting to feel like I wasn’t going to make it before I got to your class.”

“Why?”

“Just know that you were the only one who taught at all. I mean, the way you expect a teacher to teach.”

“Oh, that’s not true.”

“Oh, true that is. It was brutal. And I kept thinking they’re always gonna be behind, those kids. In life. Some’ll have good luck or…maybe their families own a store or a taco shop or something that’ll bring in good money, but…”

I shook my head. I was seeing a different photo album then. All those kids I’d danced and joked with. Talked to.

“And it bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“It oughta bother everybody. It bothers me that it doesn’t, you know?”

“The pain…in your eyes right now…”

She almost winced when she said that. She was really dialed in. So I decided to share the childhood memory that still drives almost everything I do—there’s another one, but that’ll have to wait. This is the one that first alerted me to how society “saw” us.

I paused to make sure I was calm enough to even get through it. And then, I told her the whole sordid story.

“One time, I scrounged up enough money to take the littlest ones to the McDonalds with the dinosaurs—you ever see that? Wait—no. You’re new here. But there was this one McDonalds that had these almost life size dinosaurs in the play area, right? And they had been begging to go, so I did everything I could think of—I walked around with my eyes on the ground for weeks. People drop change and just walk off—you should see how much money’s just layin’ around, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

“Well, it’s a good thing, though. For people like us. So anyway, I get enough saved and I get ‘em all on the bus and they even got excited about that, right? Poor kids are ridiculous—the littlest things blow their minds. And we get there and they get their food and ice cream and all, and then it was time to go to the little playground thing. So they go running over and dive right in with the other ones. But after a few minutes I notice that all the other kids are with their parents and their parents are sorta mad dogging me, right? And finally, my little brother Kyle comes over with Sissy in tow—her real name was Susanna—“

“That’s lovely—Susaaaanna,” she said. Savoring that “aaaahhhhh na.” part. A lot of people like that name. I can see why, I guess.

“Yeah, she was, like…about three then. And she was crying her little eyes out and Kyle was all pissed off. So I asked him what was goin’ on and he goes, ‘That lil’ girl tol’ her we stink.’”

Wyatt’s face—I swear, I thought she was going to burst into tears.

So I said, “Hey, we did stink. I’m not even gonna front. Hard as I tried to make sure they at least had some kinda sponge bath, even if it was in some…gas station or the park bathroom or something. You can’t wash all the grime off little kids all that well that way. And we couldn’t wash our clothes nearly as often as we should’ve. I knew some shelters where you could do that if you could get to ‘em, but I couldn’t haul clothes for six kids over there every week. So when some kid’d say I had cooties, I sorta thought, ‘Probably.’”

She covered her face with both hands.

And I went, “Wait—don’t--are you crying?”

She was. But she wiped her eyes right quick and smiled this little trembly smile.

And said, “Is it possible…I mean, have you ever thought that you were chosen to live that life? So that you would do…”

“Stuff like the carnival? Sure I have. And if there’s a Heaven and I get to go there, I’m going to tell God to do His own work from now on.”

She chuckled, and then frowned and started pressing on those temples again. Harder.

“Don’t make yourself laugh then,” I said.

She smiled and said, “I love that you laugh. That you can laugh.”

“Oh, God’s got a wicked sense of humor—haven’t you noticed?”

She paused and then asked the question everyone does.

“Who…are they? To you? Aisha and…”

“If I could explain that in words it’d make my life a lot easier,” I told her. “They’re everything, is the easiest way. Whatever I’ve needed them to be. And a lot more.”

“So…it’s…”

“Platonic? Yes and no. I’ve been with them, to put it politely. But it’s not, like…romantic. Not hearts and flowers, anyway. I love them. And they love the hell out of me for sure, but…the sexual thing…I don’t know how to explain that. It’s like…you get hungry, you eat. You get…that feeling…whatever it is…and…”

“I think I’m sorry I asked.”

“Why?”

It took her a minute to process that—I could see it in her eyes.

But then she said, “Because she adores you.”

“I’m not following.”

“Does she see it the way you see it?” she asked. And then she shuddered and said, “Let’s not.”

“What? In case she hears?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“There’s nothing I could say she hasn’t heard. And vice versa.”

“But…what we say and what we actually feel—“

Friendly snatched the driver’s door open and threw his cell phone into the car and it hit Joie. Who startled, grabbed the cell and threw it back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she barked. She was kind of in “boy” mode by then. No scull cap, no wig. The makeup was there, but she’d wiped some off somehow.

And she leaned to look in the mirror under the sun visor thing and said, “Lord Jesus…”

“Listen up!” Friendly barked. Mostly to me and Wyatt. Aisha stirred, but remained pressed against me, all snuggled in.

And Joie went, “Achtung!” and gave him a Hitler salute.

“Cut the wise cracks!” Friendly hissed at her.

But she looked past him and said, “Is that Starbucks open? Ooooo, my left nut for that.”

Wyatt and I fought back sniggles.

But Friendly glared at her.

And she said, “Squirrel’s gotta have it, honey.”

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked, to distract Friendly from whatever murderous thoughts he might be having.

And he scowled real deep and said, “Some…dumb ass got a call from another dumb ass--you wanna go back to the club or what?”

“Lookin’ like this? You must be out your natural mind!” Joie cried. “Take me home, honey! I’ll take it from there.”

“I’ll go to the club, then,” I told her.

“Oh, Daddy, I’ll go to the club, I just have to get my face back on,” Joie said. “Take your ladies on home and put them to beddy bye.”

“Aren’t they waiting for you and the girls, too?” Wyatt asked me.

“They’re so drunk by now they don’t know what they’re doing,” I told her.

“I’m sittin’ here,” Friendly warned me. “We’re talkin’ DUI now.”

“We have limos, darling,” Joie informed him. “Lots of lovely black limos—we do it right!”

“And I suppose you gave ‘em that,” Friendly said to me.

“A1 does it. Every year,” I said. “Their contribution.”

“How do you get all this shit?” I mean, what is it with you?”

“Friendly, you know me since I was, what? Eight? Nine?”

“But I wanna know why you shit gold, okay? I’m serious!”

We were all laughing at the gold shitting thing. But he was sort of frustrated serious. Like you get when the whole world comes crashing down and you just wanna ask God or the nearest bystander what the fuck’s going on.

So he smirked and said, “Yeah, yuck it up! Maybe somebody else’ll have that last laugh.”

I knew he wanted me to ask, so I asked, “What are you tryin’a say, Friendly?”

“I don’t like that Friendly stuff.”

“C’mon! Nobody even knows your real name anymore, man.”

“And I’m not ‘man.’ I’m…Officer Strizynski.”

“Okay, that’s a whole lotta name for me to be pronouncing after the day I’ve just had.”

“Well, give it a try, wise guy!”

“He’s a poet and he just don’t know it,” Joie teased him. She was working on her wig in the mirror now. The makeup was a no go, but just the wig would help, since she had such a pretty face with or without the paint job.

“No one’s talkin’ to you!” Friendly barked.

“You are going to blow a gasket, baby doll—you want Mama to help you relieve some of that tension?”

“Get outta the car!” Friendly yelled, jerking a thumb toward the street.

“Who moi?” Joie asked, all dainty like.

“No, not—Colton, out! Now!”

I glanced at Wyatt, who seemed a bit nervous about this. But I pointed to Aisha, and she got it, bless her. So as I eased out from under Aisha, she eased over beneath her to take my place. And all Aisha did was mumble, “Go back to sleep, baby…”

I stroked her hair to settle her all the way back down, and then I got out to face Friendly.

And I said, “What the hell’s goin’ on here?”

And Friendly totally freaked me out. He got all shaky and confused looking—ran a hand through his hair and started sort of pacing back and forth.

 “You don’t know the half of it—I don’t know the half of it…”

“So try, then. Cause I’m real tired and there’s no end in sight apparently.”

“I can’t say everything.”

“Say…something!”

That only made it worse. He looked like he was going to cry almost.

“Look, so’s you know…we done what they asked us to do. I don’t ask questions, I don’t play the game. You come to me with a job you want done, it’s done. I’m a basic kinda guy. But there’s all these little…what do you callums—fractions. Cliques. And this one’s tryin’a get over on that one and that one’s tryin’a get over on this one...”

“And you?” I asked.

“I’m tryin’a make a livin’. We’re underwater, like they say—the house isn’t worth what we got left to pay on it. And we got a lot left to pay on it. And I got kids goin’ to college…all that stuff you see on TV. That’s us.”

“So this was a money deal?”

“The money deal’s bigger than this. But this is part of it. And also, there’s people who want to see the head honcho get into some kinda bad trouble. Something high profile.”

“Like busting into the year’s biggest charity event?”

“Yeah. One stone, two birds. Maybe more’n’ two. Whatever I do to you, it pleases somebody somewhere.”

“I’m that popular?” I said.

“Oh, they don’t know what to do with you—you’re a wild card. That JJ, he knew what he was doin’--they didn’t see you comin’! You got a big old bulls eye on your back, kid. But they’re afraid to pull the trigger! Never seen anything like it. Never in all the time I’m a cop. It’s like you’re a different species or a alien or somethin’.”

“Yeah, well ET would like to go home, dude--get to the point, already,” I said.

He sighed and looked off into the distance.

“You find a place for me in your plan somewhere, I’ll sing like Pavarotti. And you’ll love it, believe me, the stuff I know.”

I had to process that for a minute. And then I burst out laughing, and Friendly got all insulted and nervous again.

“You think it’s funny, right?”

“That the man who arrested me twice is asking for a job now? If you don’t think that’s funny you’ve got a screw loose somewhere.”

“Look…I understand that! I understand that! But I’m gonna lose my pension, my benefits—I got a family to look out for.”

“What the hell’s goin’ on, man? You’re not makin’ any sense.”

“The world don’t make sense!” he hissed. “I dunno if I’m comin’ or goin’ anymore! Time was you knew who was who and what was what. But they play you now, you get me? There’s no loyalty—no trust.”

“Look, I’m not saying ‘No,’ okay?” I said. I don’t know why--I just felt like throwing him a life line at the moment. He looked so desperate and weird.

“I just…I don’t know how to handle all this,” I said. “I gotta think it through.”

“You do this and you won’t be sorry—I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll be your right hand man for life! You won’t have to worry about a thing. Ever. Hand to God, may I—“

He was interrupted by Joie going, “And the Academy Award goes to…” as she got out of the car. And he looked over at her like she was a turd someone threw on the ground.

“Who the hell asked you anything?” he said.

And Joie held up his cell and said, “Whoever this is.”

Friendly went, “Shit,” and took the phone. And this time, he didn’t cuss. Whoever it was, he shut Friendly up right smart.

And Joie and I exchanged “wondering” looks.

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