by Rob Kaufman
June stuck her index finger into her other ear to shut out the hospital noise. “Oh my God, what happened? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s okay physically. Though at the moment she’s very emotional. That’s why she asked me to call. I can’t get into the details, Ms. Stokes, but I do advise you to get here as soon as possible. We wanted to bring her to the hospital for routine tests, but she won’t leave the house until you get here.”
June leaned against the supply closet door and held back what felt like a freight train of tears. “Is the baby okay?”
“Yes. As I said, she’s fine physically. She just needs a friend with her. I know you’re in New York, could you be here by nine o’clock?”
June glanced at her watch and took a deep breath. She’d have to find someone to finish her shift, go home, pack a bag, get to Grand Central, and hope for an express train to the Fairfield station.
“I’ll try my best, Officer.” She could hear Angela trying to speak through sobs. “Have you called her friends Philip and Jonathan? They live closer and can get there a lot sooner than I can.”
June heard the static of a hand covering the cell phone’s microphone. After about ten seconds, she heard breathing. “That’s not possible, Ms. Stokes.” An uncomfortable silence fell between them. “That’s why it’s best you get here as soon as you can.”
Before June had the chance to ask more questions, he’d hung up. She flipped the phone closed and shut her eyes. What the hell happened? Police? Hospital? And why wouldn’t they call Philip and Jonathan?
Officer Juarez’s response to contacting Philip and Jonathan played in her head: “That’s not possible Ms. Stokes.” She felt her insides tighten.
Should she call Philip herself? She flipped open her phone and scrolled down to his number. But just as something told her to answer the phone minutes before, something insisted she flip it closed and focus on getting to Angela’s house. She slid the phone into the top pocket of her scrubs and headed toward Maria’s office — the head nurse who would find her replacement for tonight and however long it took to get Angela through the mess she’d gotten herself into.
When the cab pulled up to the house, two policemen stood out front, silhouetted by the porch light. June paid the driver and bolted toward the porch steps.
“Ms. Stokes?” one of the officers walked down the steps to meet her. The sound of his voice told her this was Office Juarez, and she was surprised at how wrongly she’d imagined him.
The shorter of the two officers, he had a slim frame and his uniform could’ve used tailoring. From what she could tell in the dim light, he had a kind face, big eyes, and the shadow of a goatee that helped him appear older than the twenty five years he looked. He held out his hand and smiled.
She nodded, shook his hand, and smiled back shyly.
“She’s doing better now,” he said. “The paramedic who was here earlier gave her something to calm her down, so she slept a little. But she’s been waiting for you.”
June pulled the tote strap further up her shoulder and peered at the doorway. Yellow light from inside the house seeped onto the porch floor, encircling Angela’s welcome mat. June felt a slight tremble deep inside her abdomen. She wanted to get to Angela as soon as possible, but found herself hesitating to climb the steps. It didn’t occur to her until that moment: whatever happened must have been tragic. It showed on the face of Officer Juarez and hung in the air outside the house. She couldn’t bring herself to move.
“Can I help you up the steps?” Juarez gently took her elbow.
“I’m sorry,” June said, her legs moving on their own, her feet somehow finding their way to the steps. “Can you tell me anything, Officer, just so I’m prepared?”
Juarez helped her up the steps and stopped when they reached the front door.
“I’m sorry, but I need to leave right now. There’s a situation a few miles away I need to get to.” He used his thumb to point to the officer standing beside him. “This is Officer Reilly. He’ll be watching things tonight. We understand Ms. Shelton’s not a flight risk, but it’s protocol to have an officer keep an eye on things after an incident like the one today. Plus we’ll need her to come to the station for questioning tomorrow. Officer Reilly will bring the both of you.”
“Questioning?” June’s confusion peaked to the point of anger. “I don’t understand. You’re acting as if I know what went on here. Please tell me something!”
Juarez reached into his shirt pocket and handed her a small card. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stokes. I’m not at liberty to offer details. Your friend will explain everything to you, I’m sure. This card has my cell number on it. Please call if you need to.” He gazed into her eyes and tightened his lips. “Officer Reilly will be on the porch or in his patrol car if you need him for anything. Goodnight, Ms. Stokes.”
She almost begged him to stay; to come inside and help her deal with what was waiting. Instead she swallowed hard, forced a smile and watched him walk to his car.
“June, is that you? June?”
June recognized Angela’s voice and shook her head. She had no idea what she was in for, what lay on the other side of the door. She tried to ignore the pounding in her chest while her legs, as if working separately from her brain, led her through the doorway and into the house.
*
The first thing she noticed was the smell of industrial cleaner, similar to the disinfectant used in hospital rooms. Strangely, everything seemed in order, clean and in its place. Very atypical of Angela’s house.
She scanned the room for clues. At first glance she saw nothing, other than Angela spread out on the sofa, her eyes closed with a pillow propped up behind her head and a damp dishtowel lying across her forehead. Her arm was extended, her hand gesturing as though searching for something in the dark.
“June?” Angela whispered, her eyes fluttering open. “Is that you?”
June walked to the sofa and let the carryall slide down her arm and onto the floor. She sat on the coffee table and took Angela’s outstretched hand.
“Yes, it’s me, Angela. I’m here.”
Angela tightened her grip around June’s hand.
“Thank God,” she said. “Are the police still here?” Her voice seemed to be getting stronger.
“ One officer’s outside, keeping guard or something. Everyone else is gone. Now please, can you tell me what happened?”
June barely finished getting the words out before Angela grabbed the towel from her forehead and threw it onto the floor. Her eyes were wide open and raking the room. She clutched the back of the sofa and tried pulling herself up. June watched, paralyzed, not only by the sudden change in Angela’s behavior, but also by her size. They hadn’t seen each other for six weeks, and she figured the huffing and puffing she heard from Angela during their phone conversations was due to the baby getting larger. She never imagined Angela could gain so much weight. Her swollen face looked painful; her fingers and toes, ready to explode. And her legs, like fleshy tree trunks, were mapped with the largest varicose veins June had ever seen.
“Are you going to help me or what?” Angela bit her bottom lip as she continued her attempt to lift herself up. June broke from her spell.
“Yes. Yes. What do you need me to do?”
Angela grabbed June’s knee for more leverage, then pulled and twisted her body until her legs slid down the front of the sofa. When her feet hit the floor, she let out a sigh as though she’d just finished the Boston Marathon.
“What a fucking day,” she panted. “I want to forget it ever happened.”
“Jesus Angie, what did happen? Why do the police want you for questioning?” Angela looked toward the kitchen and let her gaze fall to the floor. “What Angie? What happened?”
“Philip’s dead.”
June gasped, the words hitting her like a shovel to the stomach.
“Tommy killed him,” Angela continued, a tear now falling down her cheek.
Unable to speak, June covered her m
outh with her hand. Her eyelids burned, the tears aching to break through. But she forced them back. She couldn’t be weak, she was here to take care of Angela. Thank God she’d taken a Klonopin in the cab.
“How did it happen, Angie?” Her voice trembled. This didn’t make any sense.
“When I saw Philip at the door, I told Tommy to stay in the bedroom. He’d been drinking all morning and increased his Zoloft dosage. I begged him over and over to find another med. The Zoloft always made him angry and aggressive. He promised he would, but never did.” She shook her head harder. “Fucking asshole.”
Still sitting on the coffee table beside Angela, June clasped her hands and rested her chin on them. “What happened, Angela? What happened to Philip?”
Angela wiped the tear stain from her cheek.
“Tommy promised to stay in the bedroom. He swore to me!” She took a deep breath and looked June in the eye. “But then he came out. Philip tried to leave, but Tommy wouldn’t let him. I yelled at him to stop, to let Philip go, but it was like he couldn’t hear me, like he couldn’t hear anyone.” She squirmed into the sofa cushion, then leaned forward and placed her hand on June’s leg. “I could see the hatred in his face, June,” Angela whispered as though trying to keep a secret. “Even as I yelled and begged him to stop, I knew deep down he was going to do what he did. I could see it in his eyes.”
June tried to prepare herself, knowing the worst of the story was about to come. Even more alarming was how calm Angela appeared. Officer Juarez made it sound like she was on the brink of a breakdown and now here she was, lucid, composed, and too tranquil as far as June was concerned. Had she put on an act for the police? Or maybe she was hiding her true feelings; possibly in denial. June hoped that was the case, because if it wasn’t that meant her fear had come true: Angela was a completely heartless human being. She didn’t say a word and Angela continued.
“They were in the kitchen. I couldn’t get up fast enough to see how it started, but they were pushing each other, struggling. I heard things falling and dishes breaking. I was yelling for them to stop. By the time I got to the kitchen, the sounds had stopped and Philip was on his knees. Tommy stood with his bloody hands in the air, looking at them like they weren’t even part of his body.” Angela placed her hands over her face and shook her head. A slight whimper escaped her mouth. “I still can’t believe it, June. It’s like a dream, like I’m still not sure it actually happened.”
June shivered as the warmth of her own tears ran down her neck. She turned her head slowly toward the kitchen, scared of what she might see. The floor was spotless. Someone must’ve been called to clean up. She wiped the tears on her shirt and turned back to Angela.
“Where’s Tommy now?”
“The cops took him away. They’re going to put him away forever, that’s for sure.” She let out a huge sigh. “And just my luck, I’m the number one witness.”
June rubbed the pads of her fingers across her face, trying to erase the mascara staining her face. She swallowed hard and pushed down the lump in her throat.
“And what about Jonathan?”
Angela fell back into the sofa cushion, letting her bare feet dangle a few inches above the floor. Her face was blank, empty, as though someone had vacuumed her emotions away.
“He blames me,” she said.
June reached for her hand. “Oh, Angie, that’s not true. Why would you say something like that?”
Angela gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Because he said so, right to my face. He came here after it happened and the cops let him in. ‘This is your fault!’ Those were his exact words.”
“Angie, he was probably in shock. I’m sure he was saying things he didn’t mean.”
“Bullshit, June. Jonathan never really liked me. He was nice to me just to make Philip happy. And now, with Philip gone, he’s going to treat me like shit, just like he always wanted to.”
June forced herself to stand, then walked to the bay window and looked out. The porch light threw a hazy shadow across the front lawn and into the street where Officer Reilly leaned against his patrol car smoking a cigarette. She swiveled around on the ball of her foot and faced Angela.
“You need to give Jonathan some time, Angela. I’m sure he likes you. I mean, he gave you his sperm for God’s sake. You’re having his child! I doubt he would’ve done all of that just to make Philip happy. I think he’s a little smarter than that.”
Angela rubbed her swollen belly. “Screw Jonathan. He’s the least of my problems right now. I just need to make sure the cops understand I had nothing to do with this. They need to know that Tommy’s psychotic and I had absolutely nothing to do with Philip’s death.”
“Is that true?” The words escaped June’s mouth before she had the chance to hold them back.
Angela’s face looked ready to explode. Her eyes bulged and her cheeks puffed up like a blowfish.
“You bitch!” She stifled her yell, keeping an eye on the front door. She grabbed the thick glass vase sitting on table and raised it over her head. “If that cop wasn’t out there I’d throw this at your head! How could you ask me that?”
June couldn’t breathe. The house was incredibly warm, the heat getting more oppressive by the second. She unlatched the casement window on each side of the bay window and cranked them open. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine her lungs filling with oxygen. She felt herself start to settle down until she was startled by a sound coming from the porch steps. When she opened her eyes, she saw Officer Reilly sitting on the top step looking back at her.
“Everything okay?” he asked, taking off his cap to wipe his forehead.
“Yes, fine. Everything’s fine,” she answered.
She backed up from the window and would’ve fallen over the coffee table if Angela hadn’t yelled her name. When she turned around, the vase was back on the table and Angela once again lay on the sofa. Her inflamed expression had disappeared and her voice was once again trembling and mournful.
“I loved him, you know,” Angela said, her gaze moving between June and the window. “I wanted us to be a family. Just the three of us.” She rolled her eyes. “And Jonathan, of course. I swear, I would never do anything to hurt him. And I did everything I could to stop Tommy from doing what he did.”
June half believed her. She was so tired and confounded by the evening’s events, she couldn’t find the strength to attempt making sense of anything. Images of the evening at Philip and Jonathan’s home rolled through her mind like a slideshow — how politely they treated her; the subtle looks of understanding they’d give one another throughout the night; their compassion toward Angela, trying to make her feel comfortable. Her heart hurt, imagining what Jonathan was going through.
“There’s no need to convince me, Angie. It’s the police you’ll have to convince tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest.” She leaned over, grabbed Angela’s hand, and pulled. When Angela was finally sitting up straight, she tried to release the hand, but Angela held on.
“Yes, June. I do need to convince you. I want you to know how I felt about Philip. How much I loved him and cared about him. It means a lot that you believe me.”
June sighed and looked at Angela’s face. So pitiful, like a pit bull after attacking and ravaging all its friends, now trying to hang on to the lone survivor. “Yes, I believe you, Angie. I really do. Now let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m glad, especially because you’re my baby’s godmother. Philip was happy about that, you know? He really liked you. And I know you liked him, right?”
“Of course I did, Angela. He and Jonathan were two of the nicest men I ever met. I’m heartbroken, for both of them. I liked Philip very much.”
Angela smiled, tightened her grip around June’s hand, and raised herself about a foot off the sofa. “I’m glad. And that’s why I knew you’d be happy when I told you I’m naming the baby Philip.”
June let go of Angela’s hand and watched her fall backward.
“What did Jonathan say about that?”
Angela scooted up to the edge of the cushion and held her hand out for June to take.
“I don’t care what he has to say. Now please help me up.”
*
June shook her head, cursing herself for reliving that awful night. She and Angela promised themselves not to dwell on Philip’s death — and more importantly, they made a vow to never bring it up in front of the baby. It only produced negative vibes, Angela said, and she didn’t want any negativity around him. She told June that when he was ready, she’d tell him about Philip and what Tommy had done. But for now they would to pretend as though nothing had happened.
She tossed the dirty diaper into the pail and nested the baby’s head beneath her chin. The sound of heavy footsteps from the hallway made her turn around in time to see Angela stop and lean against the wall. Grasping papers in one hand and wiping beads of sweat from her forehead with the other, she tried to catch her breath.
Who was this woman? How did the once beautiful, vivacious vixen who used to run up the stairs to her apartment like a teenager, turn into this heap of blubbery flesh stuffed into a tent dress?
June felt sorry for Angela. Like a pauper who’d won the lottery and lived the high life until the money ran out, Angela made herself skinny and played her beauty and sensuality to the hilt until she got herself pregnant and ate her way back into obesity. A sad situation and no matter how often she wanted to, June never rubbed Angela’s face in it.
She often felt an odd sense of delight from Angela’s weight gain, a pleasure in knowing they were now on a level playing field. Angela’s obesity lowered her status to match June’s, and that meant she no longer had to knuckle under to Angela’s disrespect. Especially since June had been drug-free for the past six months. The withdrawal process was as painful as it was eye opening, showing her she had the strength to do whatever she put her mind to.
When she announced she was drug-free, Angela gave and expressed her congratulations, almost like an automaton. But June didn’t buy it. There was hollowness in her tone, something that told June her best friend was a little distressed by no longer having anything to hold over her head. June ignored her reaction — she was going to be Little Philip’s godmother, and that easily crushed any anger she felt toward Angela’s resentment.