Basic

by E. J. Mara

  Mom frowned as she watched Jasmine mix the egg, Spam, and cheese mixture. “My name isn’t Candice, it’s…” she paused and quietly said, “It’s Caroline.”

  Shocked, I stood perfectly still and looked at Mom

  She never told anyone her real name.

  “And yes, I was a rebel,” Mom’s expression remained blank, but she spoke softly, her tone almost gentle. “But I didn’t have much of a choice. My parents didn’t look after me the way I look after …Manda.”

  Jasmine nodded and picked up her bowl, heading to the microwave. “I’m with you, sister. You do what you have to in life. I don’t particularly want to sell weed for a living, but it pays the bills. Am I right?”

  “You’re wrong if you microwave that Spam omelet,” Mom said. She sighed and ever so briefly glanced at me before stepping into Jasmine’s kitchen and turning on one of the stovetop burners. “Give me a skillet and that Spam concoction you’re on the verge of ruining.”

  I frowned. Wasn’t it already ‘ruined’ simply by existing?

  Jasmine chuckled and handed the bowl to Mom before reaching down to open a cabinet and retrieving a skillet. She set it on the simmering eye and I watched Mom grab a nearby bottle of olive oil and pour it into the pan before adding the Spam, egg, and fake cheese mixture to the skillet.

  “Do you have any seasonings?” Mom asked as the food made crackling noises and began to fry. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell awful.

  “You seem like you’ve done this before,” Jasmine said, reaching into another cabinet and returning with the largest bottle of Paprika I’d ever seen.

  Mom took it from her, glanced at it with an arched eyebrow, and lightly seasoned the Spam omelet with it. “Like I said, my parents didn’t look after me. And we were poor. I learned how to cook Spam every way imaginable.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I whispered.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know,” Mom said, her response startling me. I hadn’t even thought she could hear me.

  “Like… what?” I ventured, my voice tripping on my nerves and nearly getting stuck in my throat.

  Without a word, Mom opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a spatula. She used it to flip the quickly-cooking omelet. Her lips were tight as she worked, but her eyes were uncertain.

  She was going to tell me… she was going to confess, I could just tell!

  “Like what?” I repeated.

  “There are some things mothers keep to themselves,” Jasmine said. I glared at her and reconsidered my entire plan. Why had I trusted a pothead? Jasmine elbowed my mom and smiled, “Right, Candice?”

  “It’s Caroline,” Mom said quietly, her eyes downcast, not moving from the food.

  “In fact, hon, why don’t you find Jen? She’s in her room, she didn’t go to school today,” Jasmine said.

  “She didn’t go to school today?” I repeated, shocked.

  Jen not going to school today had not been a part of our plan.

  “No,” Jasmine said with a shrug. “Said she was too worn out from whatever she did yesterday. Who knows with that kid? She’s a good one though, I trust her. So, yeah, hon. Go on back there and talk to her for a bit while your mom and I chat. Okay?”

  “But-” I started.

  “It’s fine, Manda,” Mom said without looking up. “I’ll help Ms. Jasmine cook breakfast and then … we’ll go.”

  I looked from Stoner-Barbie to my mother, helpless.

  “Fine,” I muttered, turning around and heading past the forest of weed in their living room to the small hallway where Jen’s room was.

  I knocked on the first door to the left, my gaze going to the: “No, Go Away” sign posted just above the doorknob.

  “What?” Came a listless voice from the other side of the door, I instantly recognized it as Jen’s.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “It’s me.”

  The door swung open and Jen, wearing a black t-shirt and denim shirts, frowned at me.

  I frowned back at her.

  “Why are you here?” I quietly asked. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

  “And let my Mom handle this on her own?” Jen arched an eyebrow. “Right. That would’ve gone well.”

  She was right.

  There was no way Jasmine could pull off something like this on her own. What had I been thinking when I’d planned this?

  I bit down on my bottom lip, wondering how to respond.

  It didn’t feel right to agree with Jen on the fact that her mother was a loose cannon.

  Jen saved me by suddenly saying, “The only reason she’s wearing clothes this morning, is because I made her.” With this, Jen stepped out of her room and shut the door behind her. I nearly fell backwards as she crossed in front of me and shouted towards the kitchen, “We’re going to sit outside, Ma.”

  “Okay,” Jasmine called from the kitchen.

  Realizing I was expected to follow Jen as she pranced into the living room and towards the door, I fell in step behind her and exited the trailer.

  Jen parked herself in one of the two plastic chairs situated beside her trailer. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of Skittles while I sat in the chair opposite hers.

  She offered me the bag and I shook my head, too anxious to eat anything.

  She leaned back in her chair and squinted up at the sky as she popped a few Skittles into her mouth.

  I’d never seen Jen eat junk food before. Even that first night I’d come over and while everyone else was high and indulging in their munchies, Jen had been eating carrot sticks.

  “I didn’t know you liked candy,” I said.

  “I like everything,” she said, her mouth full of Skittles. “That’s why I don’t eat anything. Except freaking carrots and celery.”

  “So, this must be a special occasion,” I mumbled, sighing as I glanced up at the sky she seemed so fascinated by.

  “It’s sad,” Jen said. I looked at her and for a moment, our eyes met. She broke the moment by looking down at her Skittles and pouring some more into her hand. “On sad days I eat whatever I want. Sorry this is all happening to you. It sucks.”

  Surprised, I said, “Yeah. And, uh, thanks for… saying that.”

  I glanced at her trailer and thought about our big, comfortable house on the other side of town. It had been bought with blood money. And after everything went down, I wouldn’t be able to live there anymore.

  Yesterday, when I’d asked Van what would happen to me when Mom was arrested, he’d briefly said something about my father taking custody of me.

  I wondered where my father lived.

  Would I have to move to someplace in the middle of nowhere? What if he lived in a trailer like Jen and Jasmine’s? What if the FBI were wrong and he had been abusive to Mom? What if both of my parents were psychos? Would he hurt me?

  As if reading my thoughts, Jen suddenly said, “Did they let you talk to your dad yet?”

  “No,” I said. “But I think they will soon. I hope he’s, like… normal. I already have one psycho-parent, I don’t want two.”

  Jen chuckled. “Welcome to my life. Jasmine’s a pothead and Mike’s in prison, where he’s still in a gang. Two screw ups for parents isn’t exactly the sweet life, but you get by. It teaches you to be independent, which you’re already good at. You’ll be fine.”

  Jen spoke so matter-of-factly that I laughed.

  “How can you be so calm about all of this?” I said, watching a hawk soar across the blue Texan sky.

  “Look at that hawk,” Jen said, pointing to it.

  “Yeah, I see it.”

  “They’re so pretty,” she murmured. Sighing, she continued, “People are fairly simple. They do what’s easiest and what’s going to benefit them the most. That means, you can’t trust them. So, nothing surprises me. People killing other people because it benefits them? Not surprising. People lying because it’s easy? Not surprising. That’s just life. Birds fly and people-”

  “Are basic,” I quietly s
aid.

  “Exactly,” Jen agreed, her mouth full of Skittles.

  We sat in silence, watching the hawk fly in wide circles.

  “But then,” Jen said, breaking the quiet. “Every once in a while, people surprise you. Like, Jonathan.”

  At the sound of his name on her lips, I tensed.

  This was the boy who she kissed on a daily basis. The same boy who I’d kissed and hadn’t wanted to stop kissing- even though he didn’t belong to me.

  He belonged to her.

  I gulped and kept my gaze on the hawk.

  “He’s not perfect,” she said, her voice low. “He’s selfish, like everyone else. But he doesn’t try to get his way. He doesn’t do what’s easy. He does what he thinks is right. It’s weird.”

  I gulped again, my mouth going dry with nerves.

  “One time, we were going to the movies,” Jen said. “And we were already late. But it was raining and we saw this guy with a ton of grocery bags walking on the side of the road. So, Jonathan stopped to give him a ride. I told him not to, because the dude could be an ax murderer and even if he wasn’t we were going to miss, like, half of the movie. But he said stopping was the right thing to do. So, he stopped. And when the guy tried to give Jonathan gas money, he told him not to worry about it.”

  That sounded like something Jonathan would do.

  But I couldn’t find the words to say this.

  All I could think about was how unfair this all was.

  I was on the verge of losing everything, my mother, my life… and even Jonathan. Though, I’d never actually had him. He’d never been mine. He was Jen’s.

  “The only thing that boy has ever been selfish about,” Jen said. “Is you.”

  My heartbeat skidded to a stop, tripping over itself.

  I glanced at her and blurted, “What?”

  Jen lazily met my eyes, as if she hadn’t just said something world-rocking. “Yeah. He wants you so bad it, like, kills him just to even look at you. And you don’t even realize that. Do you?”

  My mouth was hanging open, so I closed it and shook my head. “He’s with you. Jen, he- he doesn’t-”

  “Don’t even,” she said, interrupting me with a roll of her eyes. “Do you like him? And I’ll know if you’re lying. Tell the truth. Do you like Jonathan?”

  I looked down at my hands, thinking about the jolt I felt every time I got a text from him, about how I’d felt a possessive, insatiable hunger -an entirely new feeling- when he’d kissed me.

  “I don’t think I like him,” I quietly said. “I think I love him.”

  I looked up, tense and ready for Jen to come hurling out of her chair with a fist aimed at my nose. Mentally preparing myself for the blow and the way I’d heroically take it, I straightened my spine and looked her square in the face, waiting.

  Jen watched me with a tilted head, her eyes narrowed.

  “Okay,” she said with a shrug. She glanced down at her now-empty pack of Skittles. Her expression and tone neutral and unbothered, she said, “Then I’ll break up with him.”

  “But-”

  “He likes you,” Jen said without looking at me. “You like him. I was only going out with him because he was cute and… partially because you got on my nerves and I wanted to piss you off. But, you’re not so bad. And he deserves to be happy, because people are going to be screwing him over for the rest of his life. That’s what happens to people like him. The least he can get is you.”

  Chilled with shock and yet warmed by the fact that Jen Struthers had actually said something semi-kind to me, I shook my head in disbelief.

  “But, Jen, you don’t… you don’t have to do that,” I stammered. “It’s not like I even deserve Jonathan. He’s-”

  “Oh, I know that,” she said, chuckling. She looked at me, one of her eyebrows arched. “Neither of us deserves him. But he’s in love with you or whatever. So, why not just make the boy happy? Okay? Just promise me you won’t hurt him.”

  Offended, I said, “I would never hurt Jonathan.”

  She looked at me like I was a six-year-old who’d just offered to drive the both of us to a bar.

  “Libby, or Amanda, or whatever the hell we’re calling you now,” she said in a dry tone, “You’ve already hurt him, like, a million times. First of all, he’s been falling for you since the moment you met and you ignored that fact and put him in the friend zone. And then, you lied to him about your identity, which cut him to the core. So, yeah, you’ve already hurt him. I’m asking you to not do it again. Don’t play games with Jonathan. Just be upfront with him. And don’t ever lie to him. Okay?”

  Too shocked to find words, I simply nodded.

  But my mind was going a million miles a minute.

  Had I really been hurting Jonathan? All this time, I thought he didn’t like me enough, so I was doing what he wanted by just being his friend. But had I been hurting him? And what were my mom and Jasmine talking about now? Had Jasmine gotten a full confession from her yet?

  I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair.

  “Jen,” I started. “I-”

  I was interrupted by the sound of the trailer door opening from the inside. We both turned in the direction of the noise and my thoughts shifted to my mother as she and Jasmine walked out of the trailer.

  I looked at my mother carefully.

  Her expression was serene and she seemed… less tense than usual.

  I frowned.

  Had she indulged in Jasmine’s… garden?

  Mom turned to Jasmine and gave her a hug.

  My mouth fell open in shock.

  Mom never hugged anyone, except for her latest boyfriend/victim… or me, on special occasions.

  “Thank you, Jasmine,” Mom quietly said, before turning to me and waving me forward. “Let’s go, sugar plum.”

  I waved to Jen, who simply nodded in return, and then followed Mom to our SUV.

  She was practically gliding.

  Instead of going to the passenger’s side, I followed her to the driver’s side door.

  “Mom,” I whispered, touching her elbow. “Are you high?”

  She frowned and looked at me like I’d just suggested we turn ourselves in to the Police and give back all of the money she’d stolen over the years.

  “Of course not,” she said so forcefully that I thought she might slap me.

  I took a cautious step back and lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, I just… you seem so, relaxed.”

  “Well,” she shrugged. “Jasmine’s a complete nut job, but sometimes the craziest people are the most insightful. We had a good talk. I feel… unburdened.”

  She frowned and then gave me a quizzical look. “Is that the real reason why you brought me here, Manda? Because you thought I… needed to talk to someone?”

  My face went hot.

  My God, she’s smart.

  “Um, yes,” I confessed, my hands beginning to sweat.

  Mom nodded slowly. “Interesting.”

  With this, she hopped into the SUV and told me to hurry up and get in.

  I paused in stride, chilled to the bone.

  My mom confessed to Jasmine…

  Slowly, I walked to the passenger side, climbed in, and took my seat.

  Mom chatted about what we should have for dinner, her tone uncharacteristically upbeat, and none of her words registering in my head as she spoke.

  Only one thing ran through my mind, over and over again, like a song on repeat: My mom had no idea that everything she’d just confessed was going to get her arrested, and it was all my fault.

  Chapter Thirty

  That evening, around seven, I was parked in front of the living room television, watching-but-not-watching some CW superhero show with an overly-groomed cast who couldn’t act to save their lives.

  I couldn’t even focus enough to laugh at their terrible attempts at acting. All I could do was worry about my mother.

  I knew she’d survive in jail, she could survive anywhere
. And I knew she deserved to be in jail… but she was my mother. I’d watched her struggle to keep us alive. I’d watched her sacrifice to keep me fed and clothed. All of her lies, they weren’t just for her own survival, she’d lied for my sake.

  And now, I was betraying her.

  As a wave of self-hatred came crashing down on me, I closed my eyes and shook my head in disgust, tears forming in my eyes.

  “Manda?”

  Mom’s voice startling me, I opened my eyes with a jolt and saw her at my left, watching me curiously.

  “Are you all right?” She moved towards me and perched on the coffee table in front of me, her all-seeing eyes assessing me. “Do you feel worse than you did this morning?”

  “My head hurts,” I said, which was the truth. And, wiping my watery eyes, I added, “I think it’s allergies.”

  Mom’s face fell in sympathy and she brought her wrist to my forehead. “You’re a little warm. Not too bad. I…” she hesitated and then said, “I can make us some spicy chicken noodle soup and then we can watch Love Actually, if you want.”

  More tears threatened to form in my eyes.

  Love Actually was the movie I always watched when I was sick. But normally, I had to watch it alone.

  I glanced at the sleek black dress Mom was wearing.

  She hadn’t said anything yet, but I knew she had a ‘date’ with Van at 7:30.

  He’d told me all about it. It was an excuse to get her out of the house and give me a chance to regroup before checking in with the FBI agents.

  So, I couldn’t accept Mom’s offer.

  I glanced down and said, “No, I’m okay. Thanks. I’m just going to go to sleep. It’s not all that bad.”

  Mom smiled, but worry remained visible in the tense set of her jaw and the look in her eyes as she patted my arm and said, “That’s my girl. Strong as ever.”

  I returned her smile with a shaky one of my own.

  She took a deep breath and smoothed down her pretty dress. “I’m meeting Van for dinner and dancing. We’ll be out until about 11. But if you feel worse, call me right away. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  She looked at me closely and all of a sudden, she leaned forward, planting an unexpected kiss on my forehead. She took one of my hands in both of hers and held it tightly, looking into my eyes as she said, “Manda, stay strong for me.”