by Lisa Lim
He gives me a peculiar look. “And why is that a bad idea?”
“Because it is like dumping on your own doorstep,” I say like it’s a given.
His eyes narrow to slits. “I see...”
After Mika checks out his reading materials, we traipse out the library and trudge through a foot of slushy, gray snow.
His gaze shifts down to my hands.
Aha! They are sans a smut novel.
“Hey,” he nudges me in the ribs. “How come you didn’t check out a book tonight?”
I curtly reply, “I’m not done reading the other one.”
His mouth twitches. “Um, you mean The Scottish Laird and his Virgin Bride?”
My hand flies up to swat him but he easily evades me.
“Oh shut up!” I cry, half laughing and punch him in the arm.
In one seamless move, he playfully grips my wrists. I squirm and wriggle about, but he doesn’t budge.
He just stares. And stares. The force of his gaze is so intense it nearly knocks me off my feet. I’m crashing against the Pacific surf, beating against the jagged cliffs.
Holding my ground, I stare back, unsmiling, unblinking.
Gosh. That felt semi-erotic, actually.
After a long minute, Mika eases his grip. Then he drops his gaze and we resume walking.
I clear my throat. “So, do you still want to read the book when I’m done?”
Mika laughs jovially. “No thanks. But I’d read a book about a Belgian Laird and his virgin bride.”
“I doubt there’s such a book,” I say with a smirk.
He arches an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“In relationships, especially when it comes time to commit, Belgian men tend to…waffle a bit.”
He stares at me blankly.
I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from smiling. “Get it? Belgian Waffle!”
A smile tugs at his lips. Suddenly, he springs forward, but I’m much too quick for him this time. I pull away sharply, eluding his grasp and thwarting his ambush. Laughing and shrieking, I break into a fast run as he chases after me, dashing and splashing through puddles of melted snow.
Nine
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications, this is Maddy, how can I help? I ask impassively.
“I need some help setting up my surveillance cameras,” says the caller.
Part of our job in the DSL department entails assigning ports to surveillance cameras so our customers can view live feed from remote computers. After verifying the caller, I dive right into the technicalities. “Sir, what would you like to name Camera One?”
“Bedroom Cam,” he huffs, sounding like Deep Throat.
“Okay,” I say and type away. “And Camera Two?”
“Bathroom Cam.”
“All right…and Camera Three?”
“Kitchen Cam,” he says hoarsely.
As I’m tapping at the keys, I begin to see a pattern here.
“And Camera Four sir?”
He is quick to respond, “Laundry Room Cam.”
I’m guessing he’ll probably say Garage Cam next. That should just about cover every room in the house.
Wow. This guy sure is serious about his home security.
“This is the last one sir. What you like to name Camera Five?”
“Crotch Cam,” he replies coarsely.
Silence. I’m not typing. Um, what? Did he just say crotch cam?
I blink. Yes. I believe he did. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention. Ai yi yi. This caller is giving me the heebie jeebies.
I stammer, “Err, sorry, my computer just shut down on me so I’ll need to reboot. Do you mind holding for just a few minutes?”
Deep Throat grunts, “Hoh-kay.”
With trembling hands, I place him on hold.
Good God. This caller is one sick perv. I wonder if he’s using these cameras on unsuspecting women. Maybe he’s recording his own wife. Even worse, he could be one of those icky pedophiles.
This is serious. I need to report this.
I march imperiously to The Führer’s den and relay everything to her. She listens intently and when I’m done, she immediately takes charge. “Get me his info now. I need to run a background check on this guy. Pronto.”
My heart races as I dart back to my cube. I scrawl down his name and address on a note pad and scurry back to Hillary’s desk. Standing behind her, I can see that she has pulled up the National Sex Offender Registry web site.
“Go ahead,” she fires off. “I’m ready.”
Galvanized into action, I rattle off the caller’s first and last name, followed by his address. Hillary pounds her keyboard with fervor and clicks ‘submit.’
We wait.
Seconds later, we’re staring into the eyes of a sexual offender, convicted for aggravated sexual abuse of a child and attempted first degree felony. Okay, now I’m really getting the chills.
Hillary stares at me deadpan, and the reality of the situation begins to sink in.
For the both of us.
“Shut down his service. Transfer the call to me; I’ll handle it from here,” she instructs in a subdued manner.
I’m hightailing it back to my cubicle when I hear Hillary call my name. Halted by her voice, I whirl around.
“Nice work. I’m glad you brought this to my attention. As soon as I’m done with this call, I’m reporting him to the authorities.”
I am still in a daze. Did that really just happen? A compliment from The Führer?
Stunned and bewildered, I stumble back to my cubicle and swiftly transfer the call.
Afterward, I slump back in my chair and replay the events. Crapola! I’ve just caught a predator over the phone! And I know Kars will be thrilled to hear all about my successful sting op. She lives for stuff like this; she’s a huge Nancy Grace fan.
On impulse, I walk to her cubicle only to stop myself in my tracks. For a split second, I had forgotten that we aren’t speaking. And it’s a painful reminder. She has put up a wall between us, and it hurts.
It was Frost who once said, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall. That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it.”
I am that frozen ground, and my heart swells.
I miss Kars. Tonight, I will break down that wall that divides us. Tonight, I shall channel the strength of President Reagan when he commanded, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”
Feeling good about my plan, I hop back on the phone.
What an abysmal and uneventful night. Slouched on the sofa, my eyes stare numbly at the TV screen, watching the credits roll for Hairspray, the musical. Prior to that, I watched the entire HSM marathon and the complete third season of Chuck.
Gaawwd! My mind is overdosed on cheesy musicals and spy shows. But watching Zac Efron and Zac Levi was well worth it.
Mika bears an uncanny resemblance to both Zacs. He’s a cross between Efron and Levi, so I’ve sort of gotten my Mika fix for tonight.
I glance at the clock. It’s 2 a.m. and Kars isn’t even home yet. In my guesstimation, she’s out on a late night, secret, rendezvous with Bob the Knuckle Headed Builder.
Sigh. I feel so sorry for his wife. Oh, to suffer the betrayal of a wayward spouse. I try to remove myself from the situation, but I can’t help but feel a stab of sadness and disappointment.
Disappointment in Kars.
Just the other day, Truong tried to defend her actions, saying that sometimes things are not so black and white, but I disagree. Some things are black and white.
He is a married man; what is so gray about that? How much more black and white can a marriage certificate be?
But then again, who am I to even judge? I myself was pining after Mika while he was still dating Ingeborg.
I glance at the clock again. It’s getting late.
No use waiting up for Kars when it’s highly unlikely she’ll be coming home tonight.
Flicking off the lights, I a
mble groggily to bed.
My talk with Kars will have to wait until tomorrow.
Beep! Beep!
Jarred awake, I’m in a state of complete confusion.
“Thanks for calling Lightning—”
Whhhaa? Wait a minute! I’m not at work.
I glance blearily around. A flood of cherry blossom sunshine pours through the slanted venetian blinds. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the glare.
Okay, I’m definitely not at work. I’m in my bedroom. Thank God! I flop facedown onto my duvet.
Beep! Beep!
Huh? There goes that beeping sound again.
Beep! Beep!
Oh d’oh! It’s the doorbell.
Rubbing my eyes, I tumble out of bed and stagger to the front door. Yes, yes, I’m coming. Hold yer horses will ya?
Throwing open the door, I come face to face with Janis.
“Miss Higginbotham.” I stifle a yawn. “Come in. I’m sorry but Karsynn’s not here.”
Janis glides across the room and sinks gracefully onto the sofa.
After adjusting her zebra print skirt, she eyeballs me. “I came to see you.”
“Me? Oh, okay.” I plop down next to her.
Without preliminaries, Janis forges full speed ahead, “I know Karsynn is seeing that bastard Bob Seely. I’ve tried talking some sense into her, but she’s just so stubborn. And this is not the first time that Bob’s crossed the line; he’s had lots of affairs at work in the past.”
“But why do these girls fall for him?” I scratch my head. “It’s not like he’s the catch of the century. Nor is he remotely a catch at all.”
Janis purses her lips. “Do you remember when Bill Clinton was president?”
Of course I do.
“Even back then, Bill wasn’t conventionally handsome; yet I had the biggest crush on him.” Janis sighs and stares out the window.
I follow her gaze, but I don’t see anything unusual except for the magnificent Rocky Mountains staring back at me. What a view!
Janis snaps out of her reverie. “It’s a power thing, Maddy. Women are fascinated by men in power. Look at skinny Obama with his Mickey Mouse ears; women still find him sexy.”
“But—but Bob Seely is an oversized toad. And he’s just some lame supervisor at a call center.”
Janis smiles wryly. “Power is power my dear. Some women just find it attractive.”
“I just don’t understand why Kars is with someone like Bob. He’s such a douchelord; even in college, she dated these jerks who treated her like dirt.”
After a pregnant pause, Janis takes a deep breath. “I’m going to share a bit of my past with you. I’ve kept it hidden from a lot of people, but it may help you understand why Kars is the way she is.”
I sit up straighter. Janis has my full attention.
A sullen look clouds her usually cheerful facade. “I may seem carefree now, but I wasn’t always this way. I was diagnosed with severe depression and I battled it for sixteen years. My husband at the time—Karsynn’s dad—couldn’t handle my illness.” She averts her eyes. “It was so bad that I flirted with suicide once or twice.”
A short gasp escapes my lips.
In a strained voice, she continues, “And so he left us.”
“But Kars told me that her dad’s in prison.”
Janis manages a half-smile. “Well he left us, and then months later, he was incarcerated. Under California’s three strikes law, once you’re convicted of a felony three times, that’s it—you’re in the slammer for at least twenty-five years.”
“So he’s locked up forever?”
Janis nods gravely. “Karsynn’s dad…well he wasn’t much of a father figure. He wasn’t much of anything. In fact, he was a cheater. I caught him having affairs with several women; one of them was my best friend. And he conned my family out of lots of money. But despite all that, Kars loved him; she thought that if she loved him enough, he’d change.”
I’m stunned. I’d always assumed Kars had an idyllic childhood; at least that’s the impression she gave everyone.
Janis ventures on with a pained expression, “But of course he never changed. And poor Kars had to endure so much. She had this deadbeat dad, coupled with my depression…she now has a warped sense of what love really is. Kars sees love as something she has to work for. She had to work for her dad’s love; she had to work for my love...” Her voice falters and tears rim her eyes.
I reach for a Kleenex and hand it to her.
She takes it and wails, “I was such an awful mother, Maddy, so consumed with my own suffering. I was self destructive and Kars was there the whole time, picking up the pieces. And I would fall over and over again, back into my black hole.”
I sit very still and very quiet.
Janis sniffles. “Now Kars thinks she has to stay and be loyal no matter how much she is being hurt…like she did with her dad...like she did with me.”
“I never knew that about Kars,” I say in a stupor.
“It was bad,” Janis admits. “I’m afraid that’s why she’s drawn to men like that; and it just feeds her insecurities.”
Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place.
For as long as I’ve known Kars, she’s always shied away from the good and stable guys. In college, she constantly fell for all the bad boys and the dysfunctional douchebags. Perhaps majoring in psychology was her way of trying to understand herself.
Janis continues, “All those years, Kars was always there for me, and she put up with so much. But no matter what I did, no matter how awful I was to live with, she never left me.”
“But it all worked out in the end Miss Higginbotham.” I wear a tender expression on my face. “You’re all better now.”
“Yes, I’m better, Maddy. My daughter loved me, and continues to love me in spite of it all…and now she thinks that if you truly love someone, you should put up with any kind of abuse.”
I remain silent, not knowing what to say.
“Maddy, I know things have been strained between you two, but Kars needs you,” she says in a pleading voice.
“Don’t worry, Miss Higginbotham, I’ll talk to her. I’ll fix things between us.”
She squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”
I squeeze her hand back. “And thank you for sharing all that with me.”
“Thanks for listening, honey. Kars is a lot like me in many ways; she may put up a tough front, but inside, she’s the biggest butterball.”
I find myself smiling affectionately, just thinking about Kars. She’s rowdy and rambunctious, filled with a wild, uninhibited zeal for life. At times, she can be abrasive but her bark is much louder than her bite.
And there’s also another side to Kars, the sweet and lovable side. The Kars that makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts; the Kars that farts herself awake in the middle of the night.
Janis interrupts my thoughts. “All I want is for the two of you to patch things up.”
“We will.” I give her my most reassuring smile.
“Before I forget, Kars will be having surgery next week.” Janis springs this on me out of nowhere.
Stricken, I blanch. “Surgery? What kind of surgery?”
“Oral surgery. Jaw surgery actually; to correct her overbite.”
“You mean her jaw will be sawed in half, and then bolted back together?”
“Yes,” Janis says, and I gulp.
Feeling queasy, I plod to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
“Would you like something to drink, Miss Higginbotham?”
“No thanks, sweetie.” After a tentative pause, she says, “Now I know it sounds pretty bad, but her orthodontist assures me it’ll be okay.”
“But why? Does Karsynn really need to correct her overbite? I mean, she’s had it all these years and she’s been fine.”
“She does.” Janis sighs out loud. “It makes it hard for her to chew food properly; and that leads to indigestion, to heartburn.”
Hmm
. Maybe that’s why Kars has always been so gassy. Maybe this surgery will make all her farts go away.
Uh oh, Kars will not be happy about that.
Janis’ brows crease with concern. “Kars will need plenty of care. She’ll need to be on an all-liquid diet for six weeks. There’ll be lots of pain for her, lots of swelling.”
I wince. “Poor Kars.”
Janis’ expression mirrors mine. “My poor baby...I’ll be taking two weeks off so I can take care of her. She’ll be moving back with me temporarily, so I can keep an eye on her around the clock.”
I take a sip of water. “When is her surgery?”
“Monday at 10 a.m.”
I gasp, “That’s only two days away!”
Janis offers a warm smile. “I know she’ll want you to be around; you comfort her. In a good way.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll stop by before and after work, every single day,” I promise.
“Good!” She rises from the sofa. “I’d best get going.” At the front door, she stops. Spinning around, she confesses, “You know, I did kind of push Kars to see the orthodontist this week. And…I may have had a tiny hand in convincing her to get this surgery done soon. You see my dear, it’s all about timing.”
I draw a blank. “Timing?”
An evil glint flashes in her eyes. “This…this thing with Kars and Bob, well let’s just say that it won’t last much longer.”
I blink, still very much perplexed.
An eerie Mona Lisa smile ignites across her lips. “You see, Kars will never leave Bob. But, what I can do is make Bob leave her.”
There is a stunned silence as I digest this.
“And once that bastard is gone, I plan on getting my baby some help, some therapy,” she adds with conviction. “Bye now sweetie; in the meantime, I’m going to cut the head off that snake.” With those parting words, she disappears out the front door.
I stare after her open-mouthed.
That was so Machiavellian. Although in this case, the end does justify the means.
Mothers. Never ever underestimate the power they have over our lives.