Falling Back to One

by Randy Mason

  Baker said, “I’m not finished with you yet, Reilly. I warned you about ever hitting me again. You’ll be lucky if you can walk out of this room. So now you tell me how it is that I’m stupid.”

  But as he viciously jerked her back by the neck of her shirt and vest, it suddenly occurred to her that her promise to Suzy didn’t matter anymore. After all, the girl was a fucking little liar, and, because of it, she was the one who was taking the fall. Her words came out in small bursts as she struggled against the pain, trying to say what she wanted to before he started in on her again. “It was her—she came on t’me—flipped out when I said no—was afraid I’d tell everyone.”

  And Baker stopped, his stomach dropping as all of the pieces rearranged themselves into a completely different picture. The teacher had been so outraged—and so sure—about what Suzy had told her that he’d ignored his own gut feeling that something was off. He hadn’t even questioned the accusing girl himself. Seeing how small she was, he’d assumed she’d been easy prey. And yet she hadn’t appeared traumatized, just extremely nervous—a huge red flag. Which he’d dismissed.

  “Why didn’t you say this before?” he asked.

  “Promised her I wouldn’t. Besides, y’already made up y’mind I was guilty—didn’t believe nothin’ I was sayin’.”

  “But I meant it when I said you’d be going back upstate.”

  With a bitter shrug, she turned away.

  Baker called Warner to the office to stay with Micki while he went to question the other girl himself. Before he left, he said to Micki, “You’d better be telling me the truth, or you’ll wish you were never born.”

  “You’re too fuckin’ late.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  DECIDING IT WAS BEST not to talk to Suzy alone, Baker enlisted the gym teacher’s help. Outside her office, he gave her the basic game plan, stressing the importance of maintaining a nonjudgmental facade no matter what the girl might say. They went in together, but Suzy looked so frightened that Baker stood in the corner, behind Mrs. Tandy, who took a seat at her desk.

  Before either adult had said a word, Suzy, one hand tightly clasped within the other, asked, “So—um—is Micki gonna get kicked outta school over this? I don’t wanna have to see her again. I’m scared of what she’ll do to me for telling.”

  “Actually,” Mrs. Tandy said, “we’d like you to think very carefully about what happened and tell it again to Sergeant Baker so he can hear it from you himself. These are very serious charges. Depending on what you say, he’ll determine whether or not to place Micki under arrest.”

  “Arrest? He can arrest her?” Then, turning to Baker, “I mean, you’re really a cop?” Despite the buzz around the high school, none of the kids seemed to know for sure.

  “I’m really a cop,” he stated flatly.

  Suzy squirmed. “Cause—um—I mean, I didn’t think she’d, like, get arrested or anything …” Her voice trailed off. Fist pressed against her mouth, she said, “I—um—like, I just figured she’d be sent to another school or something.”

  “If what you told Mrs. Tandy was true,” Baker said, “she’s going back to Heyden Reformatory for Girls. On the other hand, if I later find out that what you said wasn’t true, maybe you’ll end up there instead.”

  Suzy’s eyes flitted from Baker to Mrs. Tandy then back to Baker. She swallowed. Hard. “Well—um—like—um”—her voice became very small—“I dunno.” She started to cry.

  “All I want you to do,” Baker said, “is answer one question for me. And I want the truth, whatever that is. Understand? I want the truth to just that one question. You don’t have to tell me anything else. Understand?” he repeated.

  Eyes closed, tears streaming down her face, she nodded.

  “Did Micki touch you or threaten you in any way?”

  Suzy shook her head no.

  “You’re absolutely sure now?” he pressed. “You’re not just saying that because you feel bad about what might happen to her?”

  Between sobs, Suzy said, “She … didn’t … do anything … to me.”

  “So everything you told Mrs. Tandy before was a lie.”

  Suzy nodded.

  “Did you tell anyone else about any of this?”

  The girl shook her head no.

  “Well, thank god for small miracles.”

  The teacher glanced over her shoulder at Baker, but he walked right past her to the quaking girl, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stand. “I want you to see what I did to Micki because of you.”

  Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, she let him lead her down the hall to the security office, where he turned the knob, pushed the door in, and pulled her inside. The gym teacher followed.

  Micki quickly turned away. But not before Suzy and Mrs. Tandy had gotten a glimpse of her face: split, fat lip; bloodied, swelling cheek … Suzy looked to Mrs. Tandy, but the gym teacher appeared to be feeling faint.

  With timid steps, the girl approached Micki. “I—I’m sorry.”

  Hands still cuffed, Micki whirled around. “Why’dja lie? I would never’ve said nothin’. Never.”

  Suzy hung her head and started to shake.

  Baker looked at Micki. “Would you like to initiate some kind of disciplinary action against Suzy?”

  Micki’s eyes shot over to his. “What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “She made false accusations, and you’ve suffered for it.”

  Tears pouring down, lips in the shape of an “o,” Suzy was unable to even utter a plea.

  Micki looked away. “Forget it. I don’t care.”

  “Are you sure?” Baker asked.

  Micki turned to him with a look of unbridled hate. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Baker nodded slowly. “Okay then, Suzy, you can go. But you’re not to say anything to anyone. If I hear rumors, I’ll make sure the truth is spread around just as quickly.”

  “Please …”

  “It’s up to you. Keep your mouth shut.”

  Mrs. Tandy looked from Baker to Suzy to Micki. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Eyes still locked with Suzy’s, Baker said, “I think it’s better you don’t know.”

  Suzy looked down at her new pair of brown suede shoes. “May I go now?”

  “The period’s almost over. When the passing bell rings, you can go to your next class.” He addressed the gym teacher: “Thanks for your help—and your silence.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Mrs. Tandy replied, “I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.” But before she was completely out the door, she turned back to Micki. “I’m very sorry for what happened. It never crossed my mind that Suzy would lie.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  AS SOON AS SUZY was gone, Baker said to Warner, “Thanks for watching Micki.”

  “No problem. You want me to stick around?”

  Micki had already turned to stare out the window again.

  “That’s okay,” Baker said. “Go back to your post.”

  After the door had clicked shut, Baker walked up behind Micki and lifted her wrists. “If I take these cuffs off, are you going to behave yourself or do something foolish?”

  “You can take ’em off.” And when her hands were freed, she put them in her front pockets, gritting her teeth so the pain wouldn’t show.

  “Turn around,” he ordered.

  Though she did as she was told, it was only to fix her eyes on the little refrigerator and then the coffee machine—the stupid coffee machine with the carafe nearly empty, the liquid inside a brownish-black sludge starting to burn on the bottom—

  “I guess I should’ve given you a chance to explain everything,” Baker said, “not jumped to conclusions the way I did.”

  She looked up. But when it was evident he’d finished, her expressi
on changed. “That’s it? That’s all y’have t’say? After what y’just did t’me, that’s y’whole fuckin’ apology?”

  Inside his head, a voice was telling him to say he was sorry. What came out was: “It’s not like I wasn’t justified in believing her, Micki. Look at what you’ve come from.”

  Her eyes went black.

  Baker walked over to the little refrigerator and removed some ice cubes from the freezer. He put them in a paper towel and held them out. “Put this on your face.”

  “I don’t wannit.”

  “C’mon, Micki, it’ll help with the swelling.”

  When he moved toward her as if to apply it himself, she slapped his hand away, propelling the ice toward the wall.

  “I wanna go back t’Heyden.”

  “What?”

  “I said I wanna go back ta Heyden.”

  His face went blank. And then: “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU WANT TO GO BACK THERE?”

  “Because I’m tired of all this shit. I’m tired a bein’ under suspicion f’every little fuckin’ thing. I’m tired a how much y’hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Micki.”

  “No, not much. It was so fuckin’ obvious yesterday.”

  “Yesterday … Look … I didn’t …” He ran his fingers through his hair. “At least you’ve got your freedom out here.”

  “Y’call this freedom? I might as well be locked up. From the minute I get up, I’m runnin’ from one fuckin’ thing t’the next. I don’t even have enough time t’sleep. I’m so fuckin’ exhausted, bein’ locked up would be a relief. I mean, it’s not like I get t’have any fun or anything—I got no friends. I got—I got nothin’ out here.”

  “You’ve got nothing there, too.”

  “But at least I know where I stand.”

  Stiffening, he pulled himself up a little taller, then lowered his voice. “In case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t exactly do too well at Heyden.”

  “But there’s a new warden there now.”

  The newspaper article in her desk. “And you think that means it’ll be different?”

  “Well … yeah.”

  “Then let me explain something: positions like that often attract people who are warped, or maybe it’s the position itself that warps them. I don’t know which it is. All I can say is that the new warden might be worse than the old one. Even if she isn’t, I’m guessing the rest of the staff hasn’t changed. I’m sure your favorite guard is still there.”

  Micki turned away. But when she looked back, her eyes had narrowed. “I don’t get it. How come y’tryin’ t’get me t’stay? Isn’t this what y’wanted? Y’should be jumpin’ up and down, plannin’ a goddamn party.”

  “Because I think you’re making a mistake. If I didn’t try to talk you out of this, it would weigh on my conscience. Once you go back there, that’s it. If you realize later on that you made the wrong choice, you won’t be able to get out again.”

  “Y’think I don’t know that?”

  But he saw a terrible sadness in her eyes. “Listen to me, Micki, and take some time. If you still feel this way next week, I’ll make the arrangements. Otherwise, we’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

  “I don’t wanna wait a week!”

  “What’s the rush? Afraid you’ll change your mind?”

  “I’m not gonna change my mind!” Her eyes gleamed darkly. “What is it y’need me for, huh? I wanna know what it is.”

  He looked at the bruises he’d given her, already ugly—yet just a hint of what they’d become over the next few days. “All right,” he said, “I’ll level with you: it’s true I needed you for something, but I don’t need you anymore. So you’d better take what I say very seriously because, right now, I’ve got no ulterior motive.” Of course, he’d put himself in an interesting quandary: as soon as he’d told her she could take a week to reconsider, he’d falsified what he’d just said: Malone needed his decision by the end of the day.

  The passing bell rang, and Baker hailed Warner on the walkie-talkie. “Cover for me while I take the kid home.”

  “But I’ve got a history test eighth period,” Micki said.

  “You’ll take a make-up.”

  “What am I supposeta tell Mr. Ingram?”

  “You? You’re not going to tell him anything—I will.” Seeing the look on her face, he added, “Don’t worry, he likes you. He’ll let you take the exam another day.”

  “But—”

  “Micki, you’re going home now. You’re going to put some ice on your face and anything else that hurts and just take it easy.”

  “My homework assignments—”

  “I’ll get your assignments and drop them off on my way home.” It was almost comical: one minute, she didn’t give a shit about anything; the next minute, she was worried about fucking homework assignments. He threw his jacket on and was pocketing his cigarettes when the memo underneath caught his eye. “There’s a school dance for seniors next Saturday night.”

  “So?” She was struggling to get into her jacket before he looked up again.

  “So I want you to go.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “You said you have no friends; this’ll give you a chance to make some. Maybe you’ll have some fun.”

  “I’m not gonna make any friends, and I’m not gonna have any fun; I’m just gonna stand around all night feelin’ like a jerk. I don’t belong here; I don’t fit in.”

  “I don’t think you’ve tried.”

  “Oh, for chrissakes, gimme a break.”

  “You’re going to that dance.”

  “But I work Saturday nights.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Antonelli can find someone to fill in. He’s got almost two weeks.”

  “I can’t afford to lose a whole day’s pay.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me do this.”

  “And I’m working security that night, so you’d better show up.”

  Jesus fucking Christ, she thought, how lucky can I get?

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  STILL DRESSED, MICKI WAS trying to fall asleep on top of the blanket. The only position that minimized the pain was lying on her back—which also happened to be the one position she found it almost impossible to sleep in. At least it was her day off from work.

  Baker let himself into the apartment.

  She sat up and grimaced.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  Words clipped, she said, “Never fell asleep.”

  A strange, late-afternoon light filled the room. It accentuated the swelling and discoloration of her face, which had more fully taken form. His chest collapsed, and he could feel the weight of her eyes upon him.

  “Y’got my homework?” she asked. It hurt to talk, the bruised ribs resenting the extra breath required.

  “How bad does it hurt?” he asked.

  Ignoring the pain, she stood up. “Bad enough.”

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

  “For what? You’re pissed at how I asked you for my homework, so now you’re gonna knock me around some more?”

  “Jesus! That’s not what I meant! I just want to know if you’re all right. If you think you need to see a doctor, I’ll take you.”

  She looked away. “I’m fine. Don’t need anything. Just wanna be left alone.”

  He handed her a folded piece of paper. “I’ll stop by in the morning to give you a ride.”

  She opened up the single loose-leaf sheet and looked it over, then tossed it on the desk.

  The ache in his chest grew. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you got a couple of nice shots in on me.” When her eyes met his, he
saw a glint of satisfaction in them.

  On his way out the door, he paused to glance back. Despite the considerable damage he’d done, he’d still acted with some measure of restraint. He was confident no bones were broken, just badly bruised like the rest of her. But standing all alone in the middle of the room, she looked fragile.

  “Jesus!” she said. “What’re you waiting for?”

  Lowering his eyes, he left.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  THE PAIN SETTLED IN for the night and, unable to sleep, Micki thought about the pills in her jacket. Constantly. In fact, one of the reasons she wanted to go back to juvi—the one reason she wouldn’t tell Baker—was fear of picking up her old habit again.

  It was windy outside, and the tree in front of the streetlight was casting moving shadows on the wall and ceiling. Lying on her back, she was watching the shifting shapes, thinking about the time she’d been so badly cut and slashed that Willy had finally shot her up to give her some relief. And though she threw up the first time, thinking, the hell with this shit, he’d still waited a couple of days before shooting her up again—trying not to get her hooked. But it was too late. That second time—the last time he’d done it for her—the rush was incredible; the high, so sweet.

  It wasn’t until about a week after he’d skipped town—when the reality of being all alone had sunk in—that she’d scored her first fix for herself, secretly hoping to suffer the fate of many a junkie. Twice, in fact, she’d thought she’d taken enough smack to OD—only to survive with a bigger habit.

  She smiled sadly into the darkness—she couldn’t do anything right.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  JUST PRIOR TO LEAVING the school, Baker called the station house and caught Gould in the middle of some paperwork. When Gould heard about Micki’s request to return to Heyden, he said, “So you’re off the hook; take the other kid and run.”

  But Baker said he suspected this was simply more of Micki’s self-destructiveness. And while he argued his point, Gould refrained from asking why he cared. Instead, he steered the conversation around to Cynthia. “Call her, Jim,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like she wanted to stop seeing you altogether. If you still want her, fight for her. And tell her you’re keepin’ the kid; that should score you some points.”