Opiate Jane

by Baker, Jessica K. ;

  I looked around for a place to sit. Please let me find an empty table. I did not want to sit with anyone. I looked around and found an empty table over in the corner by the stage. I sat down facing the stage so I wouldn’t have to see everyone staring at me. The gawking was really getting ridiculous. For some reason, people here didn’t seem to mind getting busted staring. They just keep right on looking. It was crazy. I sat there the entire lunch period with my back to them so I didn’t have to watch. After lunch, I went about the rest of the day with my head down, trying to avoid all the stares.

  I was so happy for my first day to be over. The day had gone pretty well except for my run-in with Mustang Boy. I still couldn’t believe he’d done that. I wondered if his family would be keeping track of how much they did for my family. They could log everything to see if their little charity experiment was working. I could offer to start them a spreadsheet. I so hated this. The day could have been worse, though. The best part was that no one had tried to talk to me. I didn’t need anyone trying to be my friend. Sure, I got looks, but I always did. It was more than usual, but at least no one had tried to buddy up to me. Usually when they did that, they were just trying to get the scoop on me. I’d never give it up, though, so eventually they’d quit trying. Besides, who knew how long I’d be there anyway?

  Lizzie was watching her tablet when I got home. SpongeBob and Hannah Montana were the only two shows she watched. She also couldn’t seem to get enough of JoJo Siwa YouTube videos. She’d rarely gotten to watch what she wanted when we were in the foster homes, so she was living it up. And that tablet—Mother had scored big points with Lizzie when she’d bought her that thing. Mother was gathering up laundry so she and Lizzie could go to the laundromat. We didn’t have a washer or dryer in our tiny house.

  While they were gone, I had tried to work on homework, but the only thing I got accomplished was reading the chapter on addiction in my psychology book. It wasn’t the assigned chapter to read, but I was obsessed with reading anything to do with addiction. I guess it was my way of trying to understand why Mother loved drugs more than she loved me and Lizzie. No matter what I read, I never found the answer to the question that haunted me. When I was first placed into foster care, I got every book on addiction I could find in the library. They all said the same thing: that she did love me and that her addiction was about her and not me. And that addiction was a disease. I had a hard time with that one. People don’t choose to have cancer, but they do choose to stick a needle in their arm. That was my theory anyway. She’d chosen to keep herself so doped up she couldn’t take care of us anymore. She’d chosen to stay gone for days at a time. She’d chosen to sell everything we owned. It was all her choice and now I was just supposed to forgive her and act like none of that had happened, just look over all of it because she was sick. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.

  At suppertime, Mother insisted we all sit at the breakfast counter together. Our little house was too small for a kitchen table, so Mother had bought three stools for the counter. She said she wanted to have family time. She was laying it on thick. I would do what she wanted for Lizzie’s sake, but I would not believe it would last. Nothing ever lasted. I quietly picked at my supper, hit the shower, and went to bed.

  I pretty much lived in solitude for the next month. I went to school and just did what I had to do. It seemed like every school I went to had one of those crowds of girls who think they are so much better than everyone else. They are always superficially pretty and downright mean. And for some reason, those crowds always tried to single me out. Mustang Boy’s sister, Emily, belonged to the clique at this school. I thought she might have been the head bitch. I’d been getting some notes taped to the front of my locker and I was pretty sure those girls were behind it. They always said something like “skank,” “white trash,” or “freak.” That showed how mature they were. I just tore them down and went on. For the most part, people had stopped gawking at me so much. Hopefully the newness was wearing off and they would just let me be invisible—minus the nice little love notes, of course. I didn’t think that would stop until they got some kind of reaction from me. They wanted to tick me off until I went off on them and looked like a freaking lunatic. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They didn’t mean anything to me. I’d taught myself a long time ago to keep to myself and not to expect anything good out of anybody.

  Tornado warning and the witch

  I awoke on a Saturday morning in early April with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was a gloomy day and I somehow had managed to sleep until eleven. I must have been really tired. I could hear Lizzie belting out JoJo Siwa from the living room. I decided I would be bright and cheery just for her today. I strolled into the living room singing the words to her favorite song.

  She giggled, saying, “Jane, you so silly! You don’t like JoJo Siwa.”

  “Nope, but I sure do like to hear you laugh, Lizzie Lou,” I replied.

  She sat down on the couch with the Easter basket she’d gotten from the Easter Bunny last Sunday and started munching.

  “Jane, what are we going to do today? Do you have school?” she asked.

  I sat down beside her and stole a Reese’s Egg from her basket.

  “No, it’s Saturday; I don’t have school today. What would you like to do?” I replied.

  “I want to go fishing in that pond by the barn,” she answered.

  I burst out laughing.

  “Fishing! Are you crazy? We don’t know how to fish.”

  “But Jane, SpongeBob goes jellyfishing all the time and he’s not that smart. It can’t be that tough,” she explained.

  Sometimes I’d forget she was only four when she talked like that. She was so smart. I told her we might try to go some other time; it was too wet outside to do much of anything.

  Mother came out of the bathroom freshly showered. She informed me she had made some friends at her Narcotics Anonymous meeting and they were going to go to the bowling alley in Hillsboro. Here we go! She’d done well to stay home with us for a month before she wanted to start going out again. And of course, the first thing that went through my mind was that this couldn’t be good if she’d met her friends at NA. That meant they were addicts too.

  “Jane, is that okay with you? Do you mind to stay with Lizzie while I’m out?” Mother asked.

  “I don’t care. It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” I replied.

  She started in with the “You do need to make some friends” lecture in which she’d tell me I spent way too much time by myself or with Lizzie and that I really needed to be around people my own age. She had no clue how different I was from most people my own age. I’d endured a good bit because of the likes of her and I would never fit in with my “peers” now. Not that I wanted to conform to what society expected of me anyway. According to society, I should have been giggling over guys, shopping for dresses in the hopes of getting asked to the prom, or even worse, trying out for the cheerleading squad. Nope, no thank you.

  The rest of the day was uneventful. I showered, Mother made an early supper, and Lizzie played in the house all day. We’d been here a month and she was still trying to be Mommy of the Year. She cooked, she cleaned, she went to work, she played with Lizzie, and she even made multiple attempts to talk to me. But I wasn’t getting my hopes up that we could be some happy family. As soon as I did, she would screw it up again. She’d already started to ruin it by going out with her so-called friends.

  Mother headed out for the bowling alley around 7:30. Lizzie and I settled down in the living room to watch a DVD. We were about halfway into the movie when the phone rang. It was Mother. She said she’d heard on the radio there was a tornado warning one county over and the storms were headed in our direction. She insisted we go to the Whitmans’ house and ask if we could stay in their basement until the storms passed. I tried to argue with her to let us stay in our house, but she would
n’t budge. When had she gotten so “motherly”? I was starting to feel like I was in the Twilight Zone. I surrendered; it wasn’t worth the effort. And besides, if the weather was going to be that bad, I would want Lizzie to be in a safe place. I told Mother we’d go over to the Whitmans’ right away.

  This was just great. It was bad enough I had to deal with Landon and Emily Whitman at school, but to be in their house—yuck! I hadn’t spoken to Mustang Boy since my first day of school. Still, I got Lizzie’s shoes and jacket on her, and she asked why we were going to the Whitmans’ house. I told her it was going to storm and a basement was one of the safest places to be.

  As we knocked on the back door, the wind was really picking up. The sound of Mrs. Whitman’s wind chimes was creepy; the chimes were whipping around in every direction. We stood there for a few minutes before Landon came to the door, wearing sweats and a tank—the kind of tank people refer to as a “wife-beater.” He wasn’t dressed at all like any other time I’d seen him. At school, he always wore Hollister and Nike. Not that I’d been keeping track of what he was wearing at school, but I liked to people watch. I could tell you a good bit about a lot of people from school even though I’d never spoken to any of them.

  Landon looked me directly in the eye and asked if he could help us. I quickly looked away and down to the ground.

  “I hate to bother you,” I said, “but my mother isn’t home and she called insisting that we ask to stay in your basement. I guess there’s a really bad storm coming. If it’s too much of an inconvenience for you, we can go back to the house.”

  He started rubbing the back of his head and said, “Actually, my mom called me too and told me to come ask your family if you’d like to use our basement. I’m going to head down there myself. I guess it’s a pretty bad storm. My dad is away on business and Mom and Emily are in Cincinnati visiting friends for the night. Come on in. I’ll go find a flashlight and a few other things to take down with us.”

  He took off through the kitchen.

  “The door to the basement is through that hall to the left, third door down. You can go on and get settled if you’d like. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I replied.

  Why was he being so nice to us? I’d been so rude to him last month and he hadn’t tried to talk to me again since that day. Any time I was near him, I thought about that first day I saw him in his car or that first day of school and felt as if he looked down on me, like he was better than me because he had money and I didn’t.

  As we walked to the basement door, I noticed there were pictures hanging all through the hallway, pictures of Landon and Emily from the time they were babies up until the present. I could have lingered and looked at them all, but I knew Landon would be back soon and I didn’t want to get caught snooping. I doubted Mother still had pictures of us from when we were babies. I had managed to hold on to a few of Lizzie.

  We opened the door, found a light switch along the wall, and headed down the stairs. The basement looked its age. It was not bright and shiny like the rest of the house. It was cold, dark, and downright creepy.

  Lizzie squeezed my hand tightly as we walked farther down the stairs.

  “Jane, I a little afraid,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry, Lizzie, it’s not that bad,” I reassured her. “We’re only going to stay down here until the storms are gone, okay?”

  We found a couple of old lawn chairs in the back corner of the basement. I grabbed them and pulled them closer to the stairs, because I did not want to make Lizzie sit in the back of that creepy room.

  Landon came down the stairs carrying a bag, a few blankets, a flashlight, and a radio. Evidently he’d done this before.

  He looked our way and said, “I see you found the chairs. I have some blankets here if you get cold and some snacks in case you girls get hungry.”

  “Thanks. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. Hopefully the storm will pass over quickly and we can get out of your way,” I replied.

  Landon walked over to a fold-out table that was set up along the wall, set the radio down, and started putting fresh batteries in it. I couldn’t help but stare at him while he was messing with the radio. He was quite gorgeous. He was probably about six feet tall and he was thin. Not thin enough to look gangly and awkward; he was filled out nicely. He had muscular arms and his chest looked as hard as a rock. He looked so engulfed in his task that I didn’t think he would catch me staring. For some reason, I couldn’t help myself. His hair was a light brown with some lighter streaks through it. It was grown out like most guys were wearing their hair then, that longer shag look. His eyes were such a deep brown that they resembled the color of chocolate. I’d noticed those the moment Landon had looked at me when he answered the door.

  I heard the radio come to life and looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. I’m pretty sure he caught me gawking at him.

  The thunder was growing very loud, and I could tell Lizzie was getting a little anxious. I grabbed one of the blankets, wrapped her in it, and held her cradled in my lap.

  “Jane, will Mommy be okay in the storm?” she asked.

  “She will be just fine. I’m sure she’s in a safe place.”

  Then, Lizzie looked up at me and asked, “Is she going to come back, Jane? Last time she never came back. I don’t want to go live with other families again. I like it here.”

  “As long as it’s me and you kid, that’s all that matters, okay?” I responded.

  What was I supposed to tell her? That everything would be okay and we would never have to go live with other families again? She was only four. I couldn’t very well tell her the complete truth, but I sure didn’t want to tell her bald-faced lies about our future either. We had Mother for that.

  Lizzie was looking very sleepy when she said, “Jane, will the storm drop off the witch?”

  I chuckled and answered, “No, Lizzie. That’s one thing I’m sure of. No witches will be dropped off here tonight.”

  I looked up to see what Landon was doing. He was sitting in one of the lawn chairs about six feet away and was looking right at us. He didn’t look away when I caught him staring.

  You could see the lightning flashing outside the little windows at the top of the basement walls. Hail starting pounding the sides of the house; it was very loud. The radio was reporting a tornado that was spotted in Russellville and was headed east. I didn’t know enough about the area to know that meant it was headed in our direction. We sat there quietly listening to the storm for a while. Lizzie had managed to fall asleep in my arms.

  I was startled when Landon spoke to me.

  “Jane, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to Lizzie,” he said. “Is that why you’re rude all the time and don’t talk to anybody at school? Do you think you won’t be here long?”

  “What are you talking about?” I snapped at him.

  Was he really going to do this? Why would he care who I talked to at school? And how would he even know if I talked to anybody at school or not? Was he keeping tabs on me?

  Landon continued his questions.

  “Why is Lizzie worried that your mother won’t come back? Has she done that to you before?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you eavesdropping is wrong and you shouldn’t do it?” I asked, scowling.

  He looked at me with confusion on his face.

  “Why do you do that? I only asked you a question because I’m curious about you, but you treat me like I’ve done something to offend you.”

  “So, you’re curious about the girl from the gutter who somehow ended up in the middle of cow country. I’m sure you’ve heard enough to put it together. Here, I’ll give you the short version: ‘Mom messes up; kids are taken away. Mom gets kids back; mom messes up again; kids are taken away again. Mom must have slept with the judge to get kids back again. Mom and kids
end up in the middle of nowhere. The end.’ Does that satisfy your curiosity? Now you can tell all your pretentious friends about your mother’s charity-case family and maybe everyone will stop staring at me all the time.”

  “That’s why you think I’m curious, so I can run to school and tell everyone all about you?” Landon responded. “And is that how you perceive me, as pretentious? I’m not the one walking around with a chip on my shoulder refusing to acknowledge anyone in the world around them. I can’t help but to watch you with Lizzie. Your demeanor is so different from the way you are with anyone else. I also hear the way you talk about your mother with disgust. I was curious about what she could have done to make you despise her so much. I’m naturally a curious person and I’m sorry if my interest in you has offended you. Don’t take it personally. I’m always curious about the people around me.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard curiosity killed the cat?” I asked.

  “I try to explain myself to you and you still snap at me. Do you enjoy sarcasm?” he demanded with a half-cocked grin on his face.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or goading me. Either way, he was ticking me off.

  “Don’t sit down here and judge me,” I hissed. “I saw you pull out of the garage the day we moved in. You looked at my mother’s car with disgust, like we weren’t good enough to be your family’s employee, let alone live next to you in your servants’ quarters.”

  I was getting very upset. This boy who had everything he could possibly want was getting his kicks out of rattling my cage.

  “Is that what you think of me, that I would judge someone by their car?” Landon asked. “I must really give a bad first impression. I wasn’t judging you or your car. I had just had an argument with my sister. She was standing beside the barn out past your car. You couldn’t have seen her from the window you were looking out of. And for your information, you’re not my mother’s charity case. Every one of her housekeepers has lived in that little house. It’s a small house, not servants’ quarters. We aren’t living in an eighteenth-century novel, Jane. Mom is pretty demanding. She likes to have her employees close in case she needs anything. Jax, the groundskeeper, lives up the road at the other end of our property. Mom has gone through quite a few housekeepers and groundskeepers.”