by Melissa Yi
Tomorrow? I pressed my forehead against Ben's. I wanted to believe him so much. "You promise?"
"Birdie, the evil empire is crumpling in less than 24 hours."
***
I knew the Sommers family—poorer than grave dust. I wasn't sure who Christy was until I looked her up in a stray yearbook. It was the anorexic girl who had asked the big kid to hold off with Gordon. I chewed my lip. For some reason, that didn't sit right with me. I tried to imagine Gordon grabbing her almost non-existent ass and couldn't picture it.
The door slammed. I shoved the yearbook under the phone directory. It was a stupid hiding place, but I'd have to get it later. I pasted a smile on my face. It was only Colin, the other junior janitor.
"Hi," he muttered, but two seconds later, he was rummaging through the mops in the closet.
"What's up?"
He shrugged and banged the handles around. I glanced at his cart. His mop's fibres were bright red. Someone had stuck dye in it: one of Gordon's jokes.
"What happened?" I asked.
He shrugged again. He shook a mop head, making sure nothing was hidden in it. A spider dropped out. He stepped on it.
"You'll bring on rain," I joked. He didn't answer. I closed the door so it was just the two of us in the concrete closet, smelling the mould.
"I don't feel like talking about it, Birdie," he said to the mop.
Now, Colin's a real high-strung fellow. I guess that could be a joke. He used to be a violinist before he got let go from the London Symphony and, a few years later, ended up washing toilets under Gordon's thumb. I always wondered how that happened.
"Gordon's a right old pain in the ass," I said. I told him about the tampon and tampon water. "I bet he would've drunk the whole toilet bowl if I'd put it in his Jim Bean."
Colin didn't crack a grin. I guess the McCallahans don't know how to laugh.
"We've all gone through it." I wanted to tell him what Ben had said, that our problems would be over soon, but instead I said, "It'll be all right."
"No. Nothing's ever going to be all right again."
I gave him a funny look. I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. He just opened the door and sailed right out without even saying 'bye.
I pressed my lips together. It didn't matter. None of this mattered, as long as we were getting rid of Gordon and then Bernice. Everything would be perfect.
Still, I felt troubled enough to pass by the main office. Not too close. Not to see Ben. We ignored each other at school. I made sure not to pause long enough to catch Bernice's attention. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her jabbering away on the phone while she stabbed a pad with her pen. In other words, it looked like she was working, or working on saving her husband's job. I let myself grin.
***
That grin lasted until the end of the day, when Ben told me Christy wasn't going to lay any charges or make a formal complaint.
"She's not? But I thought you said—"
His mouth set in a grim line. "She out and out refused. Said she was making it up. I don't have any proof, but…" He held up his hands.
Neither of us said it, but we knew. Bernice.
Sure enough, I kept my ears open as I was cleaning, and I figured it out. Christy had taken a few days off school she was so upset. But her friends were talking. "That office bitch screwed up her university application! 'Lost' some letters of reference and made up a crap one. Christy's too scared to talk now."
Once, I read a magazine article talking about enemies at the office. It said the secretary was only worth two daggers out of four. The author had obviously never met Bernice. I held my head in my hands as I called Ben. I was too scared to meet him. "So now what are we going to do?"
"We're not going to do anything. I'll take care of it."
"Ben—"
"No. She went too far, threatening you. I want her out."
I didn't want to say too much, even over the phone. "Are you...going back to the first thing we talked about it?"
He sighed before he cut it off. I could imagine him straightening his shoulders. "You leave it to me."
I wanted to. On the other hand, I wasn't entirely sure. I didn't know computers, but when I asked my boys on the phone, they talked about computer forensics and other stuff I didn't get but sounded tricky. I sure hoped Ben knew what he was doing, but I thought I'd better take steps of my own. Just in case.
***
"Thanks for cleaning the lockers, Birdie! Gives me more time to shoot some hoops." Jake crunched up a ball of paper from a recycling bin and lobbed it into a bin stacked against the far wall.
"Nice shot," I said.
"Thanks!"
I waited for him to offer to do something for me sometime, but instead he made another ball and said, "Watch this one!" He bounced that one off the wall into a corner bin and held his arms up for imaginary applause.
He was still a boy. More of a boy than my own sons, who grew up fast after their dad dropped dead of a heart attack.
"You ever think of playing basketball more seriously?"
His face flushed. "Yeah, but.... Anyway, this job pays the bills." He started rearranging the cleaning bottles on his cart.
"Yeah. That's how I got into it. And Colin, too, I think."
His head snapped up. "Ah, that guy needs to lighten up."
"What's going on with him?"
"Hell if I know. Gordon said something nice about his kid and Colin just freaked."
That was weird. Colin had a daughter, Julia, who had to be about 13 now, a real child prodigy. Hard to imagine how Gordon would yank his chain about that.
"What did Gordon say? Something about her playing the piano?"
Jake's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, something about how she had good hands. I dunno. Colin told him to shut up. He looked all—I mean, his face turned white and everything. And when I talked to him later, he couldn't mop because his hands were still shaking."
Uh oh. "Did he say anything?"
"Told me to mind my own business. Jesus, all I did was tell him to chill. I think he's a little, you know..." He whistled and made a curlicue around his head to say crazy.
"Hmm." I had to think about this. I tried to get back to my original tack, even though my heart wasn't in it. "That's a shame. Well, at least Gordon likes you."
"That's true." Jake cheered up.
"You like it here? You ever think of being head janitor after Gordon's gone?"
He laughed. "Well, if the NBA doesn't call, I guess it would be okay. We get a few side bennies."
I gave him a funny look.
He flushed. "Just a saying. Side benefits. Fuggetabout it."
"Sure." I'd been around a lot longer than he had, though, and I couldn't figure out any side benefits except seeing Ben Quincy's butt when he walked down the hall.
Jake scratched his head. "I guess I could ask Gordon for a few pointers on moving up. Colin's not doing so good, and you're ol—I mean, you'll be retired by then, right?"
Ouch.
***
"Birdie Trout, to the office, please. Birdie Trout. Report to the main office."
I left my cart in the middle of the hall and ran. I never get paged. A million possibilities ran through my mind, none of them good. My boys were hurt—car accident, bungee jumping, got a girl pregnant, which meant I'd be doing the hurting. My house was on fire. They were firing me because of me and Ben. The only good thing I could think of was Ben paging me for a secret rendezvous, but who was I kidding? We didn't do stuff like that. It was strictly after hours stuff for me and my married man.
I burst into the office, red-faced, hair falling out of my bun, but no one greeted me until Bernice sauntered out of Principal Williams' office.
"Oh, hello, Birdie. You certainly are prompt." She sneered.
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Someone paged me."
That was me. I just wanted to compliment you on your work. The lockers are looking a lot better."
Uh huh. And George W. Bush cared ab
out the little guy and the environment. I waited.
"Well, there is just one other thing. Your son Kevin." She paused.
"What about him?" I barely contained the scream in my voice.
"Oh, it's not a big deal these days, is it? Maybe you already know what I'm talking about. Mothers know best. Maybe you caught him in your closet one day—so to speak."
I stared at her. She pressed her sweater against her body, practically preening. "Here. I brought you some pamphlets." She scattered them on the counter. YOUR GAY CHILD AND YOU.
"Don't worry about your job, Birdie. This administration is quite open-minded." She waited a beat. "Of course, that may not be true of the next principal. Discrimination is so wrong, don't you think?"
I reeled toward the door while her voice rang in my ear. "Don't forget your pamphlets, Birdie. I know it's not easy raising your kids by yourself, especially with that second mortgage on your house."
My last glimpse of her was her red mouth stretched in a rictus of triumph. But I was completely confused. Kevin was the biggest womanizer at West Vincent before he graduated. And I paid my mortgage off last year.
***
After school, I traced Colin to the men's room upstairs. Of course Gordon wanted him to have the worst jobs, just like me. I slipped inside and waited while the last toilet flushed and the door banged open.
His mouth gaped before he caught himself. "Birdie! What are you doing here?"
I glanced at the two doors on either end of the room. Someone could come in at any moment. "Never mind that. Is Julia okay?"
Colin stuck his brush in his cart and washed his hands. Even upset, he was very tidy. Finally, he dried his hands and threw the wet paper towel in the garbage. "I don't know."
"What does that mean?"
He whipped around and glared at me. I never thought a mild-mannered guy with sandy red hair, glasses and freckles could be scary-looking. It'd be like Richie Cunningham being possessed. But for a second, he whipped my breath away. "It means I don't know. But I'm going to take care of it, Birdie."
Now, where had I heard that before? "Listen, Colin. You don't have to do this alone. I know him. I know his weaknesses."
"Really? Then why didn't you know to keep him away from underage girls?"
I closed my eyes. It was as bad as I thought. I didn't understand it. I didn't know why the hell a man would get off on hurting a little girl. "I'm sorry, Colin."
He banged his cart against the wall. "What've you got to be sorry about? It's me who let him near her. It's me who let Marie die. It's me—"
"Whoa." I didn't dare touch him, but I stood near him. "It's not your fault your wife got cancer."
He stared at the paper towel dispenser. I didn't think he heard me. But he reached for the cart and his sleeves rolled up and I saw scars on his wrist, still red and angry-looking.
He yanked his sleeves down. I looked away, but he said, softer now, "A crazy thing for a violinist to do, right? And a hell of a thing for a father to do."
I tried to pick my words but couldn't come up with anything better. "It's not your fault."
"Yeah? Tell me how I'm going to make it right."
I shook my head, afraid to ask, but it couldn't be any worse than my imagination. "What did he do to her?"
He shook his head and lifted his shoulders. "She won't say. Just cries and cries and won't play the piano anymore."
What was it about the Pinchuks that let them get away with murder? Because even if he didn't kill Julia, or Christy, or any other girl, he still managed to maim their souls. And what about their families? How could he do this to Colin, his own cousin, not to mention his own niece?
"Anyway. Forget about it. I shouldn't have said anything." He stripped his gloves and tossed them in the garbage.
"Are you kidding me?" The anger in my voice made him glance over his shoulder. When he saw my face, he looked me right in the eye for the first time. And I told him, "We are not letting him get away with this."
"I told you I'd take care of it!"
"Two heads are better than one." It wasn't so much what we said as the way we were saying it. I could spot the willpower in him that made him a damn fine violinist while it lasted. And I think he could tell how I bore two boys, the first over eight pounds, the next over ten, without a drop of anaesthetic. Both of us had witnessed death in the face of our spouses. And neither of us was backing down.
"Leave it, Birdie." He pushed his way past me, out of the water closet.
I let him go. This time.
Between his wife, his violin, and now his little girl, Colin had just about lost everything. Those people are the most dangerous of all. Any magazine would rate 'em four out of four daggers.
So I followed him the next morning when I was supposed to be restocking supplies. He had a funny look to him, keeping his head down and twitching to look over his shoulder. He'd make a terrible spy. I trailed him to the basement. He unlocked a supply cabinet, but I heard glass clink and came up behind him.
Colin had just moved a stack of papers. I saw a bottle of Absolut vodka, Jack Daniels, one of those giant foreign beer cans, a silver hip flask, and I don't know what else. I couldn't stop my breath from hissing out.
He jumped and slammed the door shut. "Birdie! Get out of here!"
I ignored him. "What is all this stuff?"
He opened the door, shoved the paper back into place, and re-locked the door. "What do you think? It's Gordo's stash." He started walking down the hall.
I wondered where Colin had gotten the key, but figured I'd ask in good time. "I thought he just had that Jim Beam in his desk."
Colin laughed and walked faster. I had to hustle to keep up. The bell rang. In a minute, the kids would burst into the halls upstairs. "That's his private stuff. These are their spoils of war."
I shook my head, and he explained, "If they catch the kids drinking in the bleachers or on the grounds, they confiscate the booze. Jake was bragging they scored some acid the other day."
I couldn't believe it. I'd never caught any kids messing around. For the first time, I felt as ancient as Jake thought I was. Above us, through the concrete floor, I heard kids walking and chattering. I had to protect those kids. I tried to focus. "They should turn it in."
Colin's narrow nose crinkled. I wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or spit. "And ruin their fun?"
I pressed a hand to my head. "You mean they drink it themselves?"
"Or resell it. I'm not sure. Yet." He paused and I got it. He wanted to catch them at it and play the hero. It was a good plan except they were too slippery. Gordon could talk his way out of anything, especially with Bernice greasing his way. If Ben couldn't kick him out for sexual assault, how were we going to nail him for a few bottles of booze?
No. We couldn't wait. Even if I put up with Gordon and his cronies, Christy and Julia and all the other little girls couldn't wait even one more day.
But what could I do? Gordon was my boss and Bernice held the whip. The only time I'd ever been able to get Gordon good was with a squirt of tampon water. I cocked my head to one side. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. I took a deep breath and started to talk. Turned out Colin had a few tricks of his own.
***
On Friday, Jake strutted around the break room. He grinned at himself in the mirror over the sink and ran his hand through his hair. TGIF and all that, but I felt like asking if he'd gotten laid. Colin and I were not in the mood, even without Gordon there to spoil it.
When you've got a plan, you've got to be patient. That's what I kept telling Colin, even though he wanted to "kill the $#%#@@ already." So I acted patient. Colin set his coffee cup down hard, rattling his spoon against the saucer. I took his cup and traded him a warning look, which he ignored.
"Can you take my cup, too?" Jake called across the room without even looking up from his cell phone.
"She's not your slave," Colin shot back.
"Why, is she yours?" Jake looked me up and down and leered. "You like
older women, MacCallahan?"
Colin jumped to his feet. "She's old enough to be my mother."
"Your point?"
I stood between them and gave Jake the evil eye. "That's enough. You can pick up your own cup, Jake. I raised two boys and I don't need another one to clean up after."
His eyes flickered for a second. I thought maybe I got through to him. But then a Gordon-like grin slid over his face. "Whatever." He sauntered to the table and scooped it up, saying something under his breath.
"What did you say?" Colin snapped.
"Nothin'."
But we both heard it. It sounded like, "Won't be long 'til you're working for me."
Colin's hands curled into fists. I sighed to myself. Colin had no control. I spoke before he could, raising my voice to be heard above Jake running water in the sink. "Have a good weekend?"
"Yeah, actually. Gordon said—" He glanced at Colin before his grin returned twice as large. "You were right, Birdie. He said I'm management material."
Colin quirked an eyebrow. At least he still had some sense of humour.
I said, "That's great, Jake."
He almost dropped the detergent bottle. "Really? You're not, uh, pissed?"
"Nah. Like you said, I'm almost retired. And Colin here should be getting back to his music. So good for you."
"Yeah?"
"In fact, why don't we all go out for a drink? No hard feelings."
Jake looked torn.
I said, "My treat. Then I got to get going. My bones can't take late nights."
For a second, I thought I'd played the old card too hard. But then Jake tossed the dishtowel in the air and caught it again. "Yeah, okay. Free beer. What the hell."
"Bring Gordon," I said sweetly.
"For sure. Can't leave the boss man outta this. That's what management's all about, right?"
***
"You sure you can afford this, Birdie?" Gordon smirked just like Bernice with his upper lip pulled up tight. They say dogs get to look like their owners. Maybe it's true for couples too.
"Depends what you're ordering," I said to Gordon.
"Twelve-year-old single malt whisky?" His grin widened.