by Jane West
He snickered as he rattled off French. “Vous ferez mieux d'être gentille avec moi.” (You will like me or else we will have an issue.) His eyes hardened.
I didn't have to understand French to understand his threat. Still, it was nice knowing the language. I'd taken French in school, a little private joke that I intended to keep to myself.
“Why don't you just say it?” I challenged him, holding my gaze even to his.
“I could say the same to you,” He countered with disdain in his eyes.
“What do you want?” I wished he'd just spit it out and go away. It was evident he was trying to intimidate me.
He rubbed his scruffy chin as he drew in a drag off his cigarette. He exhaled, eyes fixed on me. “You remind me of a kitten I once had, a feisty little thing.” He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled directly in my face.
Instantly I wanted to gag. The smoke was smothering. I hated cigarettes. The smell was horrendous. Instead of reacting to his lame taunt, I held still. Though secretly, I cursed him with every word I knew. I detested him. “I came here to see my mom. Do you mind?” I snapped.
“No, not at all,” his eyes glistened like black obsidian. “First, I have one thing I want you to understand.” He smiled flashing his yellow teeth. “Your mom and I are together. Don't give her a hard time about me. I'm here to stay, petite fille.” (little girl) He cast a dark smile stamping out his cigarette butt on the laminated tabletop in front of me before he slid from the booth.
I glared up at him. How ironic? An ashtray sat only inches from his hand. Francis was conveying a message. He was the top dog now, and I better watch my back.
With only a smirk plastered across his face, he left, disappearing through the double doors. I suspected into the kitchen.
Francis didn't bother me much. It was only a matter of time before he'd end up in some fatal accident or Sara trading him in for a rich man. He best watch his own back.
Then my mind drifted to Ms. Noel. I felt horrible, leaving her. Sometimes my temper got the best of me. I overreacted. Talking about Dad was a hard subject for me. His death came unexpectedly. After his death, my world was shattered.
Even Sara changed into an unrecognizable person. Her mood swings transpired from a baking cookies mother to a rage filled, dish-throwing mother.
About six months after Dad's death, Sara ended up arrested for shoplifting at Neiman Marcus. When they had apprehended her, she went into a fit of rage.
As a result, they had her admitted into the mental ward at the local hospital. That was when the doctors had diagnosed Sara with bipolar disorder.
This brought me to understand why Ms. Noel assumed Sara was running. I had to disagree with her on this one. Sara's instability and paranoia stemmed from her illness. Though back luck seemed to follow us, I couldn't see any reason why Sara would be fleeing.
Despite my reservations, Ms. Noel aroused my curiosity concerning Dad's death. This wasn't going to be easy. I get that Sara hated talking about the loss of Dad. Even still, regardless of her mental state of mind, if Sara knew anything that might help the police find the killer, she needed to cough it up.
I raked my eyes over the diner and spied Sara. It looked like she'd finished taking an order. When she stuck the pad in her pocket, our eyes hitched. A slight tug at the corner of her mouth tipped upward. She started etching her way toward me. I noted that the lunch crowd had thinned, and the diner had only a couple of tables taken. Good! I might have a chance to talk with Sara.
She had practically moved in with Francis. Oddly, she hadn't been home to get any of her things. Sara never went without her precious possessions. I had no idea what was up with that.
For the life of me, I didn't see what she saw in Francis. One word described him, loser! He had no stability, and he was hard on the eyes. Someone needed to introduce him to soap and water.
I reckoned the town didn't have many available bachelors. Then again, it wasn't beneath Sara to hook up with a married man. Apart from them dying, that was why I didn't get involved in her affairs.
“Well, hello there stranger!” Sara wore her Mommy-smile today.
“If you'd come home for a night or two, I wouldn't be a stranger.” I smiled back with a little sass.
Sara nearly smiled. “How about I make it up to you? You want something to eat?” She pulled out her pad from her pocket and drew the pin from her ear.
I half smiled. “Just a chocolate shake and fries, please.”
Suddenly Sara's brows knitted, staring down at the table. “That wouldn't happen to be yours?” She pointed to the crumpled cigarette butt lying on the table.
I first wanted to roll my eyes, but I stopped myself. “It belongs to your boyfriend.” I shrugged, keeping my irritation undetected.
“Oh… why didn't he use an ashtray?”
I shrugged. “That's something I asked myself.”
Sara eyed me for a minute. I knew she didn't believe me. “Okay, I'll bring your food to you shortly.” She paused. “Umm… clean that mess up before my boss sees it!” She swatted her hand at me and zipped away before I had the opportunity to protest.
I refused to clean up after her boyfriend or take the fall. Instead, I switched booths. By the time Sara returned, she would've forgotten.
I rested my head on my hands and propped my elbows on the table. My mind drifted to a time when life was happy. It was so long ago, and as time passed, the memories seemed to fade.
When my father was alive, I had the best life. We all were so happy. We lived in a farm community outside of Eufaula, Oklahoma. Dad opened his business in town. He might've been an attorney working in a small town, but he was far from a small attorney. The towns' people loved and respected Dad.
We had a small farm just outside of town. Farm life was wonderful. My favorite thing in the whole world was gathering eggs. I sighed. It was funny how the most mundane things could bring such great pleasure. I would always cherish my childhood memories.
If I had a time machine, I'd go back to that moment and stop Dad from jogging that morning. He'd be alive, and Sara would be a much better person. I withdrew a painful sigh.
Drawing me back to the present, I heard Sara's heels clanking against the tile floor. I didn't understand how she could wear heels waitressing. I sat up straight, shoulders back. I needed to have my questions in order if I was going to get anywhere with her today. Pulling answers from Sara was like pulling teeth from a rhino wide-awake.
The plate of curly fries was sizzling as Sara set the pile in front of me. I eyeballed the chocolate shake. I couldn't wait for it as I snatched it up first.
Sara settled into the seat across from me, sipping on her coffee. We shared a moment of quiet while I ate my salty fries.
To my surprise, Sara was the first to start. “Did you have a nice chat with Fran?” She sipped on her coffee.
Oh, brother! “Why?” I wanted to avoid this subject altogether.
“I hope you will give him a chance. He's pretty special to me.” Sara looked away, sipping her coffee. I noted the tension rolling off her shoulders.
I couldn't do the pretense any longer. “What do you see in him?” I dropped my fry back in the plate.
Sara's head snapped up at me. “What did you say?”
“Mom, I don't understand why you like him?”
“If you'd give him five minutes of your time and cut out your shitty attitude, you might find that he's likable.”
“Mom, he's a loser and he's closer to my age than yours,”
“Age is only a number. Francis makes me happy.” Sara was on the defense. 'Forget the cougar, more like a snaggletooth tiger,' I thought sarcastically.
“He's a creep!”
“Fran is different.” She defended him. I didn't expect anything less.
“Whatever!” I folded my arms. What was the point in arguing? Sara was hell bent on keeping Fran.
“If it wasn't for the landlord, he'd be living with us.” Sara sounded like a child who didn't get her candy. “I'
ve never met the man. I've dealt with his butler. He's probably some old fart.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Sara snorted. “I bet you are.” She turned her back to me stewing as though I had something to do with the landlord's rules.
“If you give me the landlord's information, I'll handle him.” I was glad she mentioned him. I needed his contact info.
“Oh, no you don't! I ain't givin' you nothin'. The last time I gave you that information, you made me look like a fool!”
“That's because you didn't pay the rent!”
“What are you talkin' about? I gave that man his money.”
I loved my mother but I think she really believed her own tales. I didn't want to get into it, so I changed the subject. “Mom, have you heard any news about Dad's case?”
Sara's body went rigid. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, have the police called on any updates on Dad's case?”
“That's one mystery that will never get resolved.”
“Are you giving up hope?”
Sara turned to face me. “Hope,” she scoffed. “That ship sailed a long time ago. It's been ten years. The case is now a cold case.” She sipped her coffee. “It's a waste of time. They won't find the driver.”
The coldness in her voice gave me chills.
“Mom, how can it be a waste of time? If that were you or me, Dad would've never stopped looking for the killer until justice had been found.”
“Oh, stop making Jon into a martyr. He wasn't a saint,” Sara snapped, quickly veering off into hostility.
“And you are?” I replied with reckless ire.
“Watch what you say to me. Fran's on the other side of those doors.” Sara nodded toward the kitchen. “He won't tolerate you sassin' me.”
“I can't believe you're threatening me with your new beau.” I leaned in so no one else could hear me, “We both know that your boy is doomed.” I leaned back holding my keen eyes to Sara's startled gaze.
“You act like I'm jinx!”
“Remember Charles?”
“I don't care to talk about him.” She turned her shoulder to me, avoiding my eye contact.
I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Sara was a master at skirting around questions. I pushed further. “Then let's talk about why you have to move every other month.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about!”
“Okay, have it your way but you need to know that I'm contacting the Eufaula police.
Sara's lips tightened. “You need to move on and forget about Jon.”
I didn't understand how Sara could dismiss Dad's death so easily. I bit out. “I'll move on when Dad's killer is locked behind bars!”
“I am sure that person is paying for his mishaps in one way or another.” It was easy for Sara to dismiss Dad's death. I think she thought if we didn't talk about it, it'd go away.
“That's not good enough! Dad deserves our loyalty.”
“Your father is dead. He's nothing more than bones buried in the ground. Move on! I have.”
I scoffed. “How can you say that?” My voice broke. “Moving on isn't jumping from one abandoned town after another, living in cheap hotels and being homeless, eating out of garbage cans!”
A muscle flicked angrily along Sara's jaw line. “I'm getting tired of your piss poor attitude! You'd be much happier finding a hobby than hanging on my skirt tail.”
“Fine,” I hissed through my teeth. Before I could stop myself, I shoved all the dishes off the table, sending them crashing to the floor in a flurry. The dishes hit with such force that the clatter echoed throughout the whole diner.
When my gaze lifted, I noticed several pairs of marbled eyes watching.
I couldn't bear to look at Sara's face anymore. I slid from the booth and in my fleeting moment, I lashed out at her. “All my life, it's been about you! You've cared more about your boyfriends and your liquor than being a mother to me.” I paused, looking her straight in the eye. “I wonder at times if I'm even your daughter.”
Sara's eyes ignited. “You have no idea, missy what I've sacrificed. I am dearly paying for it now. So don't you throw your shit at me!”
I opened my mouth to argue but then I held my tongue. There was no point in carrying this conversation any further. Sara, like always, never saw her wrong-doings. She acted as if she was the victim.
I refused to stand here another minute. I spun on my heels and darted out the diner. In a matter of seconds, I was on my bike and down the street, putting distance between that woman and me.
Third Encounter
The first week of school had passed, and I'd survived. Gina had pretty much resigned to leaving me alone except for an occasional eye roll. I could deal with that. I'd become more acquainted with Sam and Jen. I viewed Sally as collateral damage.
First class, English, when I entered the room, Sally jerked her head up and smiled brightly, far too brightly. I hated happy people in the morning before I've had at least five cups of coffee. With Sally, ten cups might pull me through the suffering of her un-abating yammering.
I dropped my books on my desk and flopped down in my seat. My eyes cut to the desk behind me. It was vacant another day. Bane had taken absence for the last week. I wondered if I'd seen the last of him. Maybe his family reconsidered and decided to leave this dead town. Lucky dog, wish I could do the same.
Without wasting a minute, Sally swiveled in her seat facing me. Oh, brother!
“Good morning!”
In the presence of Sally, it should be a requirement to wear shades. My clothes might be worn, but her choice of style could hurt a blind man's eyes, the loud orange and overzealous smile was giving me a headache.
“Morning,” I grumbled, slipping down in my seat, lowering my cap over my eyes. I reached into my bag and pulled out a book that I'd been reading. It was one of my favorites. Since we didn't have a TV, it was study or recreational reading.
“What you reading?” Sally asked, carefree like.
I sighed as I flashed the book up showing her the cover. Then I went back to reading or attempting to read.
“To Kill a Mockingbird! That doesn't sound very exciting.” She leaned over to peek at the page I was reading.
My head snapped up, feeling slightly bothered. “I can't believe you've never heard of this book? It's a classic.”
She shrugged. “I usually just look at the cheat notes.”
I rolled my eyes, not surprised. “You've never heard of Harper Lee. Her book won the Pulitzer Prize.”
“Oh,” she shrugged. “Unless it has a cute boy in the story, I'm not interested.”
“There's more to life than ogling a boy.” Sally reminded me of a mule with blinders.
“Do you have a boyfriend,” Sally probed.
Now she was fishing. “Nope! Don't have time.” I went back to reading.
“I make time. I'd rather have a boyfriend than reading some old book that's not even current.”
Okay, I think Sally just threw some shade at me. I dropped my book on my desk. “My book isn't boring. The author happens to be a renowned writer. Besides, dating is pointless.”
“Why do you say that?”
I tried not to frown. “Why start something I can't finish?” I shrugged. I didn't care much for exposing my wounds to Sally. Sara's constant need for jump-skipping town after town was a sore spot for me.
“Oh, yeah, I see your point.” There was a pause. “What about the new guy, Aidan? I saw you riding in his car the other day.”
Good grief! Gossip girl was on the prowl. “Eh… he was just offering a ride.” My brows furrowed into a V. “It was raining, and I was on my bike.” I stuffed my book back in my bag. Class would be starting soon anyway. Not that it would keep Sally from talking.
“What's he like,” Sally kept prying.
“Apart from him behaving like a total douche, nothing special.” Geez! She was like a dog with a newfound bone.
“Who cares about his snobby self whe
n he's that hot?” Sally's infatuation looked to be on overdrive like everything else about her. I seriously doubted she did anything normal.
“Then you date 'em!” My implacable expression was more than a hint that I didn't give a rat's ass.
I twisted in my seat reaching for my bag to get my homework. When I turned back in my seat, my eyes lifted and I almost choked on my own spit. My gaze collided with two steel-blue eyes. Bane! When did he get here? I could've sworn his seat was vacant a moment ago. Surely, I would've seen him pass by my desk like every other day. I swear things just kept getting weirder whenever Bane decided to show his face.
Quickly, I dropped my eyes to my paper on Macbeth. I focused on my essay, scanning over my notes, Shakespeare's shortest tragedy, about a Scottish general who received a prophecy from a trio of witches that he would become King of Scotland. It ended badly. I reckoned ambition was the seal of his fate.
Disrupting my thoughts, I felt a sharp poke in my back. Geez! Can't I sit here in peace without anyone pestering me? I tipped my shoulder down just enough to see him from the corner of my eye. The last thing I wanted was more eye contact with those brain-eating blues. “Why are you stabbing me?” I didn't hold back the irritation in my voice.
“Sorry, Princess! I only wanted to know the assignment?” I could feel his amusement bristling my neck.
“If you attended class once in a while you wouldn't have to ask.”
“Nah, I'd rather ask you so I can see your face blister.” He flashed a pearly smile.
A few snickers erupted down the row, a couple of boys.
I tossed over my shoulder, “Whatever!”
A chuckle wafted over my shoulder. I ignored it just like I planned on ignoring the occupant.
The teacher walked in as the bell rang. Even Sally turned around facing the front. Thank God for small favors. It was nice not having to stare at her face today.
* * *
The clock struck noon, and I headed to the cafeteria. Short on cash today, I had just enough to buy a Coke. Eh, I'd been worse off. I ran my dollar through the machine and punched the button. I grabbed my drink and headed off for the usual table. I'd sort of made friends with Jen and Sam. Sally, I'd been sitting on the fence with that one.