Junk Love, page 31
Frozen, she wasn’t sure if she was putting on the red slide or taking it off.
“Cora?”
CORA
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Alone in the orange Utah desert, Cora felt abandoned and maybe watched. Not watched by the stalker that Julie had insisted was chasing them, but maybe by Julie. Unless her sister had kept going without even looking back. It could just seem like someone was watching her because the rust-colored rock walls surrounded her like giant hands around a bug.
She cupped her hands at her mouth. “Julie!”
Her echo sounded desperate. As she wiped her eyes, the tips of her matted red curls prickled her arms like frayed electrical wires. A feverish shudder rolled over her skin, pooling in her swollen hands and feet.
Should she turn back? Even though Julie had been walking in this direction when the echoes of distant gunshots ricocheted in the narrow ravine, she could have turned around. Her big sister could be back at the car right now, even driving out of this hell. She wouldn’t do that, would she? A tear slid down her cheek.
She must be this way. Cora plodded along the trickling stream in her black closed-toe sandals. Did lab rats feel like this, going through mazes to determine their intelligence? Smart or not, she needed to get to her.
The murky flow finally meandered to a clearing above a ridge the water must have cut years ago. She stepped up the bank and surveyed the sandy expanse littered with boulders and spindly trees. Getting out of the narrow ravine had been a goal, but now that Cora had emerged, no relief was in sight. The new hilly frontier was so far-flung, something like agoraphobia seized her throat. Her chest ached as if her lungs were bricks. Her heart rapid-fired like a rabbit stomping a warning. Julie could be anywhere.
One of the scraggly bushes speckling the terrain had something under it like a heap of clothes. Julie’s plaid shirt?
Running toward her, she called, “Julie! You’re o—”
The body didn’t move, even to breathe.
Cora’s fingers pressed her mouth. “Julie?” Her vision blurred as she crept forward and stooped. Her hand dangled above what might still be her sister. “Julie?” Meeting heavy resistance from the dead air, she touched the frail arm.
Julie stirred.
“Oh, thank God!” She dropped to her knees and embraced the sharp shoulder.
When Julie turned her head, her boyish light brown hair a matted mess, Cora sat back on her heels. Tiny red spots and something less visible cloaked her sister’s gaunt face.
“Are you okay? Thank God you’re okay.”
She stared through her as their grandmother used to after her memory had gone. Her dark eyes were like holes. Her feet were bare.
“It’s me, Cora. Where are your shoes?”
She rasped, “He told me to take them off.”
“Who?”
“The stalker.” Julie didn’t seem like Julie anymore. What were those brown eyes seeing?
“You talked to him?”
“In the cave.”
What cave? “Why were you in a cave?”
She propped up on her elbow. “The FBI—they’re coming for all of us.”
“We haven’t done anything. Why would—”
“You shouldn’t have yelled. I thought you’d been shot.” She had all the emotion of a weatherman.
Maybe she had imagined her little sister had been killed because she thought she deserved punishment, yelling for help after Julie had told her to lie by the bush and be quiet. But she’d had to try. Whoever was shooting could have heard and helped.
“Here,” Cora sniffed, unbuckling her Birkenstocks. “Take my shoes.”
“I can’t wear those.”
“I’ll be okay.” She set a sandal in the whitish dust beside her. “I have socks. That’s something.”
Julie shook her head. “The cork’s shaped to your feet.”
“They might not be comfortable, but they’re better than nothing.” She sighed. “Just try them, at least.”
Once she put on the shoes, Cora offered her a hand, which she didn’t take. Cora reached instead for the mustard yellow hobo bag on the ground—her purse, which they had been sharing since they left the car the first time when it got stuck. “Can I carry this for you?” The car keys clinked against the hollow can of sunscreen spray and Cora’s dead cell phone.
Julie snatched it away. “I have it.”
“Why don’t we go back to the—”
“Shh!” She stared over Cora’s shoulder, squatting. “Get down. Down.” She pushed until Cora lay flat.
Hopelessness weighed as heavy as her sister’s insistent hands. Not again.
Julie was backing away.
“Where are you going?”
“The bush is too small for both of us.”
“Don’t you think we should—”
“Shh! Don’t move. I’ll be right here.”
Promise? The view of her big sister blurred. “Don’t leave this time.”
“Be quiet. We’ll go when it’s safe.” Julie glanced around and moved to the scraggly shrub behind her.
Her neck hurt as she craned to see Julie tucking into a ball.
“Your head’s sticking up,” she hissed.
Cora didn’t want to make her mad again, so she tucked her head in. Julie had to know she was on her side, or she might leave her. How can I get her back to the car?
A couple of minutes ticked by in mostly dead silence. The sand itched Cora’s cheek. We have to get moving.
“Julie?” she whispered.
CORA
Sunday, December 11, 2016
“Cora? Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
Aiden sighed.
“I wish I could be there. Are you okay, really? I mean, you’re not thinking of doing anything crazy, are you?”
Crazy? Her shoulders pinched. “What do you mean?”
“Like hurting yourself? I know you don’t really drink. Or hurt yourself, I guess.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’m just worried about you. Probably transferring my own shit.”
Cora slid off her slip-on and tucked her bare feet up onto the darkish blue couch, pulling the throw blanket over her lap. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yes. You will. And tomorrow, this might all be over.”
“We’ll see.”
“Shit,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
His “Nothing” was cut by a moment of dull silence.
“Are you getting a call? We can go.” Ironic that they might have to end the call now that she wanted to talk.
“Sorry. I forgot I was supposed to see a movie with a friend. Shit. I’m so late. Hey, if she decides to just go without me, can I call you back?”
“Okay. Have fun.”
“Thanks. Sorry. And call me if you change your mind and want me to call in. Please.”
“Sure.”
He sighed. “Take care of yourself, Cora. Oh! Have you tried listening to music? You should put some on, like that jazz you like.”
Rather than sitting in her dark, shabby apartment, she was transported to Aiden’s kitchen, dancing barefoot on the earthy wood floor.
“Text me if you can’t sleep. Or if you need anything. Or if you want me to call in—or fly in. Okay?”
As she nodded, tears fell.
Holly
Monday, December 12, 2016
After Naomi’s midnight bottle, Holly couldn’t sleep. She was overwhelmed by all the lovely life in her unlit bedroom: the delicious pile of man softly snoring under her chocolate brown comforter, the sweet-tempered baby in the bassinet, and the unconditional love fluff in the crate in the corner. Like her heart, her room was so crammed full of goodness that it might burst.
It was like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from, and she was afraid to fall asleep and miss it. It was Naomi’s last night with her, hopefully. The thought of poor Cora—her eyes were so desperate when she’d left… Jacob wasn’t going anywhere, thank god. She resisted the urge to spoon against him and risk disturbing his sleep. Komi wasn’t going anywhere. Two out of three was pretty great. She could sleep. Life was good, amazingly great.
“I love you, Holly Samuelsson.”
Jacob. What? She must have drifted off.
He bent over her, his shadowy face adoring but sad in the dim light like he was snapping a mental picture before goodbye.
Holly tried to blink herself awake in the dark. “Where are you going?”
“Work.” His kiss on her forehead was warm and soft and bristly. “It’s early. Go back to sleep. I’ll call when I can.” Backing away from the bed, he whispered to Komi, “Keep Mom safe.” His silhouette disappeared from the doorframe, and his heavy feet trudged to and out the door. It thumped closed.
* * *
That morning in her bright kitchen, Holly decided that huffing baby head might be better than drinking coffee. Cucumber. Naomi’s scalp exuded a similar creamy mildness. She sniffed again, luxuriating in the soft, dark wisps of her hair. Grapefruit? Picturing a server at a wine bar comparing babies to varietal blends, she laughed at herself.
“Well, you are intoxicating,” she smiled, taking in Naomi’s dark lashes and her tiny bulb of a nose.
More out of habit than from any real interest, she plucked up the TV remote and turned on the news, stepping around the kitchen wall.
The blonde anchorwoman’s talking head frowned, austere beside the photo of a familiar building: the DCFS office. “…in an armed standoff at the Department of Child and Family Services.”
Holly froze.
“The incident began at about 2:40 a.m. when the suspect drove through the glass entry doors and barricaded herself inside the building.”
Jacob.
The TV screen filled with grainy video, zooming in past yellow caution tape and police cars through an empty parking lot to the front steps. The tail end of a car poked out where the glass-walled front used to be. As the camera panned out, it passed an olive-green armored truck with a star on its passenger door and SWAT in dark letters over the front fender. There was only one SWAT team in the county—Jacob’s.
Something clattered on the linoleum floor. Her hand was limp. Faint, clutching Naomi, she fumbled for the black metal stool. Sitting, breathing, not dropping the baby, she surrendered to the newswoman as she would to a nurse administering a sickening shot of truth.
“The bomb squad has responded to the scene, and police have evacuated the residents of nearby homes.”
Komi whined at the back door, but Holly was afraid to stand. She couldn’t lose Jacob. That couldn’t be the last time she saw him. That scared, nightmare-savvy part of herself, warning her the bliss was fleeting, to stay awake—it was right. She should have listened.
CORA
Monday, December 12, 2016
Cora held her arms in a T-shape as the young security guard waved the wand over her.
Down the lobby corridor, Renata faced off with Vanessa’s lawyer, Lindsay. “Your client is asking to be sued.”
After nodding at her boot buckles, the guard smiled at Cora. “You’re good.”
So, she proceeded to the end of the X-ray machine’s conveyor belt.
“Get in line.” Lindsay flipped through a thick stack of papers. “Not a great day to threaten my client. I thought you had better taste.”
The round gray tub holding her purse emerged.
“Victim is not a good look for you, Lindsay.” Renata’s eyes flashed fire as she approached.
Behind her back, Lindsay’s disdainful look morphed to something uglier, sneering as if Cora were a stray that had wandered in smelling like wet dog.
Renata led Cora and her parents into the familiar windowless conference room. Cora’s text conversation with Holly hadn’t changed since Cora had assured her:
No problem. See you soon.
“Are we still doing this?” her dad asked. “Having a hearing when there’s a bomb threat at the Child Welfare office?”
“Fortunately, the office was empty when the woman drove into it.” Renata set her notepad and documents on the table. “And almost everything is electronic these days.”
He nodded, frowning.
“Let’s get Naomi home,” Renata smiled.
“Holly’s here.” Cora’s mom waved her in through the vertical strip of glass in the door.
Holly backed in, holding the car seat, and Cora stood. As she reached to take her daughter, her relief was tainted by her friend’s ashen face. Renata studied Holly, too.
“Oh!” Cora unbuckled Naomi to get her in her arms as soon as possible. “Renata, this is my friend—”
“Holly.” She smiled with an outstretched hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking it. “I can’t remember your name.”
“Renata. Renata Ochoa. You helped with my pre-diabetes and my celiac.”
“Right.” Her smile was broken.
“I never did schedule that follow-up,” she chuckled. “The advice you gave me already helped… Please have a seat.” Her smile dropped and she asked, “Is that okay, Cora? It might be—”
“I want her here.”
When everyone was seated and Naomi was back at Cora’s chest where she belonged, the lawyer said, “The good news is, as you know, there is no reality-based reason for DCFS to be bothering your family. As soon as we can get a judge to see the truth, this should be over. And today we have a judge who knows what she’s doing.”
“What’s the bad news?” Cora asked.
Renata lifted papers and locked eyes with her parents. “It is about Julie.” She glanced at the tired shell of Holly and asked Cora, “Do you want to talk alone about your sister?”
“It’s okay.” Cora told Holly, “My sister has mental health issues.”
Holly nodded, looking sleep deprived.
The quiet was too long, so Cora turned to Renata.
Her brown eyes were somber. “She is saying you do.”
“Julie?”
“Apparently, Vanessa tracked her down Friday morning. Julie told her that Cora has the history of delusional behavior. She flipped the whole desert story.” Renata’s face pursed in a sad shrug for Cora’s parents. “And she said that you two are physically and emotionally abusive.”
Holly
Monday, December 12, 2016
The conference room door hadn’t closed behind Cora’s dad yet when her mom followed him, saying, “We’ll be back.”
Holly had only seen her own dad cry that hard a handful of times, like all the muscles in his gut and face were in the most excruciating cramp.
Naomi was the only content one, asleep in Cora’s arms.
Holly hoped Renata could comfort Cora. She was tapped out. They’ll be back. Will Jacob? Her fears about him getting hurt or killed were gaining the upper hand. She wanted a hug, a Jacob hug. Like that first long, supportive hug at the brewery. That kind of hug.
While Renata and Cora started reading paperwork, her mind stayed in the brewery since she could be with Jacob there. She remembered sitting down after the epic hug and sharing stories. This time she would hold his hand over the table. If he survived this thing, they needed to go somewhere to make their own most bizarre vacation memories.
Naomi fussed, so Cora discretely clamped her to her breast, checking her under the draped blanket. Her red hair trailed in frizzy ringlets.
Jacob’s voice was in her head, still at the brewery: “Her hair got me first: orange, like a desert nymph had emerged from the rock.”
What did Renata mean by “Julie had flipped the desert story”?
“Hey Cora?”
They turned to her.
“I don’t want to pry, but your sister didn’t run from rescue helicopters in a desert, did she?”
“No.” She frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“It just reminded me of a story.”
“Knock knock!” The bitchy prosecutor cracked open the door and graced them with a pearly smile. “Renata? Judge wants to see us in chambers.”
* * *
In a crowded burger joint about half an hour later, the closest flat-screen TV showed that same shot of the breached DCFS doors above the anchorman. It was too far away to hear, but she could read:
STANDOFF ONGOING WITH ARMED SUSPECT AT DCFS OFFICE
“Avo-cobb-o chicken salad, gluten-free?”
“Here.” Renata leaned back against the red upholstered booth.
The waitress reached over Holly’s bottomless broccoli to the space by the wall, depositing the massive plate. “You must be the ‘shroom burger.” The smaller dish slid in front of Cora, across from Holly.
She hadn’t told them why she wanted the aisle seat, but she was pretty sure she was going to puke if she didn’t hear from Jacob soon. She checked her phone on the table—nothing. Since they entered Red Robin, she had been picturing him in his Burger King costume. A gut gremlin was dead set on convincing her that would be their only Halloween.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?”
“I don’t think so.” Renata smiled at the waitress from below a goofy picture of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue.
“Enjoy.”
Holly stared at the steamed green florets in their little white bowl, like a smaller, squattier version of the pot with the tomato plant from Jacob: his first gift to her.
“Would you pray for us?” Cora asked.
“Certainly.” Renata clasped her hands and lowered her head. “Father, thank you for the food we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Please strengthen us, protect Cora and her family, and protect the officers trying to keep us safe and bring a peaceful end to the standoff. We pray that you would calm the heart of the hurting woman there and heal Cora’s sister if that is your will. Even our suffering is filtered through your loving, all-powerful hands. We thank you for your sustaining grace. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”
