by Owen Thomas
For the first time all afternoon, I have information she doesn’t.
“Glenda told me that Shepp went straight to Mae and that Mae went to Glenda.”
“Hmm. I saw them at the hearing. Mae and Shepp are obviously involved. Sorry. Are you upset?”
I know she means it. But my heart sinks a little at the comfort. I don’t want her to be sorry. I want her to be glad. I want her tone to acknowledge … what … opportunity. I wave it off.
“That was over a long time ago. Emotionally anyway. No big deal.”
“Shepp’s in for a rough ride. Let’s see how long she sticks with him.”
“It’s already rough for both of them. Glenda told me this morning that the firm fired Mae for not disclosing a romantic relationship with a client. Two clients actually. Me and then Shepp.”
“Sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it?”
“She said that it’s coming from a partner who has been playing footsies with Mae for a long time. I always suspected they had a thing going when we were together. Apparently he had a tantrum when he found out about Shepp. Glenda is outraged and is going to bat for her. ‘Course, if anyone should be upset about a no-fraternizing rule at that firm it’s Glenda.”
Cait laughs, remembering.
“When we were leaving the police station this morning we were talking about Shepp… well, I guess it is more accurate to say that I was asking about Shepp and she was not answering… and I asked how in the hell he could afford her. Know what she says?”
Cait looks.
“She gives me that shit-eating grin of hers and says, oh, we’ll think of something.”
Cait laughs. “She’s fucking with you, Dave! Come on.”
“I can’t tell. I can never tell.”
“Well, she’s a piece of work alright.”
“She must have been game for all of this. When you called her.”
“Oh, she was all over it. She ate it up. I told her my story. I told her my concern for Shepp, which was really just a cover for my concern for you, because frankly, Shepp needs to do some time for this shit. I don’t lose much sleep over Shepp. There’s got to be some consequence.”
“Pretty serious wrong turn,” I agreed. “Came through at that hearing though. God, Cee Cee. All of this must have come together at the last second.”
“I met Glenda at her office yesterday morning. We laid it out. We printed out the photo from my phone. I went out and bought a wig, which was like the best part of the whole deal, and then I went directly to the hearing and met her outside the building. She handled the rest.”
“Which was what, exactly?”
“She found Chuck outside the courtroom in the hallway, waiting for his turn to testify. She pulled him aside. Showed him the photo.”
“Oh, man.”
“Yeah. Told him she had his computer and his phone. Told him that Brittany and Desmond were outside the building waiting for her to call. She told him that if he found it necessary to testify to any opinion that you were responsible for Brittany’s disappearance, or that you were corrupting Brittany with drugs or sex, or that you were selling or distributing drugs to anyone, then she would find it necessary to counter that testimony with the testimony of Desmond and Brittany.”
“Blackmail.”
“No. Full disclosure of context. If Chuck was going to take the stand and lie for his own sick reasons, then she was going to find someone to tell the truth. She also told him that it would be a good idea for him to start rolling the ball backwards on the indictment and the pending drug charges. She told him that if she had to challenge the warrants, she would certainly have sworn testimony as to what he was really looking for in your apartment.”
“So now that he has held up his end… I mean, what now, he gets a pass?”
“Fuck no. She’ll drop the bomb on the prosecutor’s office this afternoon. Probably already happened. The only thing Chuck avoided was having Brittany and Desmond testify at that hearing.”
“With a reporter in the room.”
“C’est moi!” Cait flings her arms in the air triumphantly. “Glenda wanted the press there to really make Chuck sweat the possibility that he would be reading about himself in the paper. But she also did not actually want any press there at all because of you and Shepp. It was the obvious solution on such short order.”
“Were Brittany and Desmond really outside?”
“You mean were they actually outside the building? In the sense of not being inside the building?”
“Man, Cait,” I laugh to my self. “What a scam.”
“It was a good bet and you know it.”
“What if he had called your bluff?”
Cait pulls out her phone again. She shows me the picture. Brittany’s smile. That middle finger stretched out over the computer.
“That’s a tough bluff to call. He doesn’t have the balls.”
“God. I wish I could have been there. What was his reaction?”
“Glenda said he looked like he might pass out right there. White as a sheet.”
“So, Chuck thought that Glenda…was my attorney.”
“Right. Why would he think anything different?”
“Well, there’s Lonnie Lumkin. Chuck knows…”
“And yet, there’s Glenda, live and in the flesh. And plenty of it. Chuck made the leap all by himself. She never said who she was representing at the hearing. And isn’t she, in fact, representing you now?”
“Yes.”
“Have you talked about money?”
“No. But she and my dad have talked about money. At some point I will be talking to my dad about money. I see another low interest loan in my future.”
The thought of it makes me groan. I roll over and prop myself up on my elbow. She looks at me, a blade of grass between her lips, with more serenity than I probably have ever known.
“Thanks for calling him, Cee. I mean it. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry for being angry.”
“You had every reason to be angry, Dave. I don’t like betraying my friends. But thanks for thanking me.” She takes the blade of grass out of her mouth and looks at it in the light. “But you owe me a favor now.”
I fall back on both shoulders.
“Yeah. I knew that was coming.”
A blue Citation drives by, circles, and parks across the street. We both sit up. The driver looks vaguely familiar. It’s the man in the picture. It’s Desmond Kline. He waves. Cait waves.
“Good for them,” she says, more to herself than to me.
The passenger door opens. There is Brittany, looking much better than I saw her last. Tired, but relaxed. Not bleeding. Desmond stays put. She’s wearing jeans and a black Megadeth t-shit that is obviously not hers.
“Hi Mr. Johns,” she says softly, casting a shadow over the lawn. She gnaws at the inside of her mouth as she looks down at me. Her smooth, young forehead puckers.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I say. “I was worried.”
Cait gives my shoulder a squeeze and gets up and walks across the street to talk to Desmond.
“How’s your head?” Brittany asks.
“My head? My head is fine. How is your head?”
She bends down and parts her hair near the top of her forehead. An embossed pink line is still visible.
“Ouch.”
“It doesn’t really hurt any more. How’s your table?”
“I’m disappointed in the table. Thinking of chopping it into a stool.”
She doesn’t acknowledge the joke. Nerves. Or it wasn’t funny. Or both.
“I can’t stay.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “We’re going to a movie.” She shuffles uncomfortably, staring down at her shoes. The silence goes on too long.
“It’s okay, Brittany. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“No…” she sniffles and wipes her eyes on her sleeve. “No. I want to say this. You need to hear this. I… I am so … I am so sorry, Mr. Johns. About everything. About your house and
lying to you and the car and getting fired and ditching out on you on the way to the hospital…”
I stand and give her a hug.
“It’s okay. I know you’re sorry.”
She pushes back, looking now over at the brown, punctured garbage bag slumped over the curb. There is a fresh convulsion.
“And your fish tank and all of your fish and...”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“I just got so… I don’t know. Over my head. Things got out of control really, really fast. And all of these people that I like got hurt. You, and…”
She doesn’t finish.
“And Shepp?”
“Yeah.”
“And Carmen?”
She nods.
“And DJ?”
“Yeah. Boy you know everything, don’t you?”
“Enough. I don’t really know what happened to my car.”
She sniffs some more, trying to hold it back.
“I kind of told Carmen that you… were coming on to me. I… she was super pissed. I didn’t tell her to do that. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s okay. Really.”
“No it’s not okay.”
“What if I told you that if Carmen had not defiled my car, things would have been a whole lot worse for me than they are. And for you.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. I point at Cait across the street.
“I met her because of Carmen’s paint job.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No. No. Maybe. I don’t know yet. We’ll see. If I tell you to think twice about DJ will you?”
“No.” She shakes her head to show me that she means it.
“I didn’t think so.”
“You’re not my dad, you know.” She smiles when she says this.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Are you going back to teach at Wilson?”
“I’ve been fired.”
“They won’t let you back? I mean, I kind of thought…”
“We’ll see. What about you?”
“They’re gonna expel my ass, big time.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “You and your mom need to make an appointment to see the new principal. Tell him you’re sorry. Own up to all of it. Tell him your sorry. Tell the truth. Can’t hurt. Probably should talk to a lawyer first.”
“They have a new principal? I haven’t been gone that long.”
“Not yet. But they will. Sooner than later I think.”
“Anyway, I’m not talking to my mom. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. It’s just a rough patch.” I nod over her shoulder to the car across the street. “Take your dad with you instead.”
She hugs me again, tightly and for longer than is comfortable. Then she turns and heads back across the street.
“What movie are you seeing?” I ask. She pivots, walking backwards.
“Star Wars Episode III.”
I raise my fists to the air and shake them.
“Sequels!”
She laughs and waves. There is still a child in there. For a just a little bit longer.
Cait joins me on the sidewalk. We watch them drive off. She thumps me in the shoulder with her fist.
“I have to pee,” she says. “And then I have to go. I’m on duty tonight.”
“Hold your breath in there.”
I wait for her by the vanbulance. When she returns, it is all I can do to keep from kissing her. Gratitude. Awe. Love. I kick the front tire instead.
“She wanted to know if I was going back. To Wilson.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t have a job.”
“Yeah, but that’s not going to last is it? I mean…”
“I don’t know. Glenda said Judge Archoni continued the hearing. No date yet.”
“Yeah, but Dave, the principal who fired you is about to be the subject of an intensive investigation into framing students with narcotics and trying to defraud the federal government out of education funding. And as for Shepp… and Chuck… the headlines alone…”
“I know. That’s what Glenda says. She’s on a real tear. She wants me to bring suit against the Board for wrongful termination. Defamation. Emotional distress. She also wants me to sue the city. Police brutality. False imprisonment. Violation of my civil rights. She rattled of half a dozen things. She says she’ll make me the richest high school teacher Wilson High has ever seen. Said she’d do it for a contingent fee. I pay nothing unless I collect. She’s that sure.”
“But you don’t sound so sure.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“It seems empty, somehow. Hollow. Even if I won. I can’t go back to Wilson. Even if I could, I can’t. Those kids… that relationship is ruined. No trust in either direction. That doesn’t work. And no one in this town is going to hire me as teacher, that’s for sure.”
“Why not?”
“After all of this? Come on. I’ve got trouble written all over me. Besides, Glenda says she can get the drug charges knocked down to misdemeanor possession, but she does not think she can get them dismissed entirely. I was carrying after all. That gives every school the only reason they need to say thanks but no thanks.”
“Do you even need to work if it starts raining money?”
“Teaching history is what I do. Who I am. It’s like the only thing I really like to do. It’s the only thing I’m halfway good at. It’s all the bullshit that surrounds it that I don’t like.”
She is quiet, letting me work it through.
“Besides. Litigation Lotto? That’s not really me. I don’t want to spend the next five years in depositions and courtrooms surrounded by lawyers with a knot in my stomach.”
“Okay. So then what’s next?”
“I have no fucking idea, Cait. I really don’t. I’m going to shovel out my stinking condo. After that…”
She opens her door and is about to step up. She stops. Turns.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been talking with some friends lately. Back in Louisiana.”
“Yeah?”
“They need a lot of help. Katrina fucked everything. It’s a nightmare, Dave. The devastation is more than rotten wood and some mold. It goes deep. The social services system has all but buckled. They need help in every way imaginable. They want me to move back.”
“You mean … you are moving back.”
“Yeah.” She nods and sighs. “I mean, I am moving back.”
Something inside of me begins turning out the lights. I am losing something I never had and the irony is that it hurts just as much as if it had always been mine. I nod.
“You have a family, Dave. One I wish I had. But I don’t. I feel like I already love Benny like he’s my own brother. But he’s not. And I have to do this. I want to do this. This is the only thing that I’m half-way good at.”
“Oh please. After all of this? You can do anything. You’re fucking… Batman.”
“The need down there right now is … it’s…”
“I know.”
“I am stupid to say this,” she grabs my shoulder. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?”
“I know. I don’t have anything to offer. Not money. Not a great place to live. Not a comfortable life. Not stability. Not a great family. And probably not a girlfriend. But I can offer you meaning, which is what I think you really need right now. And a life that you can own without a mortgage. It would be all yours. Whatever you make of it.”
“But…”
“Wait. There’s one more thing. Then I’m going to drive off and I don’t want an answer. I want you to go back inside and shovel out your condo and think about it. There’s no rush. I’ll be here another few months anyway. Okay? Promise?”
She is lifting her eyebrows and looking at me in the eyes. Her entire face is a beautiful question.
I nod.
“Promise.”
“Orleans County is desperate for high school teachers. Especially the Ninth Ward. George Washington Carver High School. Fredrick Douglass High School. The whole education system is water-logged and completely upside down. They were understaffed even before Katrina. They need teachers, Dave. They need good teachers. Dedicated teachers. Teachers who live to teach. Heroic teachers. They are not going to be squinting their eyes at an Ohio misdemeanor. Something tells me that if you agree to release all of your claims against the Board of Education, they will be happy to agree to one hell of a letter of recommendation. But back in New Orleans, not far from where we both went to school, they have to rebuild, from the ground up, the very fundamentals of public education. They will need people – teachers – who can really dig in. They need some smart, dedicated optimists. These kids need to know that it will get better. They need to know that it has to get better sometime. They need to know that they can float.”
I open my mouth, but she is quick to put her fingers on my lips.
“You promised to think about it.”
I nod, silently imagining what it would be like trying to bring some semblance of academic order to such chaos. Teaching in spite of it all, lest history be forgotten. Try as I may, the only image in my mind is of my father, plunging headlong into a wholly different chaos, doing his best to teach school in Cleveland during Freedom Summer 1964. Teaching kids with no other options. Teaching and midwifing history at the same time. Been there, done that, he would tell me. I should be off put; discouraged that he has already planted his flag in that caliber of experience.
But I’m not discouraged. I’m strangely inspired.
Cait climbs in and closes the door and starts the engine.
“One question?” I ask. She gives me that wry, lop-sided smile.
“Okay. One.”
“You said probably no girlfriend.”
Her face gives nothing away. She points behind me.
“Look at that place. You’re a slob, Dave. And you’ve got a real marijuana problem.”
“Seriously, Cee Cee.”
“Seriously? If you go … I don’t want it to be for the wrong reason. Tomorrow is always a new day, Dave. Let it be that way. Let it be new. Anything can happen. Cut everything else loose.”
“Anything can happen including … that. I mean, you say you want an optimist.”