Glass - 02 (31 page)
Authors: Ellen Hopkins
rey Rolls Off Me
Away from me, onto his feet.
Take care of your baby.
He vanishes into the night.
Close behind is Grade E,
with a sizeable buy and
a pilfered rock. I glance
around the cluttered room.
An ash tray overflows on
the coffee table. A glass
pipe lies on the floor, midst
papers, knocked off a chair.
A raft of papers, floating
on a swamp of nasty carpet,
a place no baby should crawl.
The sink cannot possibly
hold another crusty dish.
Clothing, dirty and clean,
decorates the furniture.
I should straighten up.
Scrub. Make the place
presentable. Habitable.
A place I want to be in.
But I’m exhausted. Sore.
Sore. Too sore to pick up
my stuttering baby. I warm
a bottle. Similac pacifier.
Then I locate the phone.
“Mom? I know it’s late,
and I’m sorry. But I need
you to come get Hunter.”
hey Say a Picture
Is worth a thousand words.
Mom studies the picture
that is my apartment, says
not one word except,
This
is the right decision.
I kiss Hunter good-bye,
knowing this is the right
decision, knowing too
that I probably won’t see
him again for a while.
He goes to Mom with
enthusiasm, gooing a hello.
Poor baby should be fast
asleep. He’s going home
now. Home to sleep.
I will not sleep tonight.
I sit in the dark, staring
out at the stars. Where
is Trey? I want to tell
him I’m sorry.
Want to have “make
up sex.” Want to make
everything okay again.
Stable again. More stable.
Minus baby makes two.
Am Still by the Window
When he stumbles in. Wasted.
Like me. We don’t bother with
words, instead collapse into bed,
shedding clothes as we go.
Finally, sweaty and shaking,
I whisper, “I’m sorry. Oh, God.
I don’t want to be without you.”
The same hands that only hours
ago hurt me now caress me.
I’m
sorry too.
He lays his fingers into
finger-shaped bruises. Perfect fits.
I can’t believe I did this to you.
Why do I hurt you when I love
you so much? Am I crazy?
We both know why, but we
don’t dare admit it. What would
we be if we did? “We’re both
crazy. I don’t care, as long
as you’re with me. Kiss me.
Make love to me, hard. Don’t
think about it. Hurt me more.”
fterward
We lie, knotted together,
as if to undo this macramé
would unravel us altogether.
After a while, Trey sighs.
I have to tell you something.
Every muscle tenses. He’s
leaving. Or he’s been with
Angela. Or he wants to be.
I haven’t been job hunting
all the time I’ve been away….
I don’t want to hear this.
I don’t want to lose him.
I don’t want to share him.
I’ve been going to the casinos.
I…I’m not lucky at gambling.
He’s not leaving. I don’t have
to share him. Wait. Gambling?
He’s been gambling? And losing?
I’m sorry. I thought I could make
a little profit, to get a nicer place.
My body stiffens and bends
in half, like a mannequin, sitting.
“Where did you get the money?”
From the lockbox. I know some
of it was to get more speed….
Yes, and for rent. Electricity. Phone.
Gasoline. And, until a few hours ago,
baby food. “How much is left?”
I don’t know. Not much. But there’s
still a little glass. We can sell it…
Lockbox. I spring from bed, rush
to its hiding place, line up the numbers
on the lock. One hundred sixteen dollars.
Trey is still talking.
We just have to stay
out of it until we make our money back.
Stay out of what? Oh, the stash. Right.
We’re so very good at that. I sit back
in the chair beneath the window, stare
at the same stars in the same night sky.
Inside, everything is different. Again.
Still Love Trey
But I can’t trust him,
and so the love feels
different.
I still love Hunter,
but know he’s better
off away from me,
and so the love is
distant.
I still love Brad, in
some warped way,
even though I was
discarded,
used then tossed
aside, like a once-
favorite toy,
outgrown.
Funny, but I still love
Chase. Seeing him,
married and
moved on,
stuffed me with pain.
It throbs, stabs.
But that isn’t so bad.
At least I know I’m
still alive.
live and Throbbing
I’ve formulated a plan.
First I put in a call to Cesar, who tells
me to stop by anytime.
Code words for
There’s plenty around.
Next we have to sell what
little is left in the lockbox. I put Trey
on that. Anyone but Angela
is fair game. He’d better leave that ho
alone or start packing.
I stash a couple of pipes
full, just in case everything goes to shit.
I mean more to shit. I’ve
avoided doing what I’m going to do,
because if we screw this up,
we’ll have Mexican Mafia on our ass.
Not a good thing. No, not
at all. So I guess the message is:
Do not screw this up!
Trey returns with a couple
hundred bucks and we head for Fernley.
León lets us out of the car,
a good omen. Cesar greets us with his
usual not-quite-smile.
That doesn’t change as I tell him we
want to up our regular.
Holding this much meth halfway
scares the crap out of me.
I offer Cesar three bills,
which leaves us with sixteen whole
dollars until we manage.
to off a great deal of glass. “I know
we’re really short, but
we had to change apartments. Can
you front us the rest?
We’ll get you the money by next
week. We’ve got buys
lined up.” Major lie.
Better to call it a bluff. Makes it
sound more like a game.
Cesar shrugs.
You been a pretty
good customer. No reason
to think you won’t make good. But
fuck wit’ me, you ain’
gonna like what happens. You know?
Oh yeah, we know.
he Plan Has Flaws
Like, the rent is due and we’re
out of cash. I give the manager
a sob story about the baby getting
sick. Since the baby isn’t here,
she buys it, gives us a few days
to catch up, with a little interest.
Translation: twenty-five for her.
Like, we really need to sell some
ice right now, and everyone seems
to be
a little short on cash
or set
for the foreseeable future. Trey
actually goes downtown to peddle
small quantities to tourists and card
dealers—an inspired way to play.
Like, because we’re not selling it
very quickly, we’re tempted to go
ahead and smoke it. First the profit
goes up in a cloud of exhaled ice.
Next goes the investment capital,
or it would be investment capital,
but it wasn’t our capital to invest.
Like, by the time we’re supposed
to pay Cesar what we owe him, we’re
even further behind than when I
concocted that ridiculous plan.
We don’t have close to what he’s
expecting, and wouldn’t, even if
we sold everything that’s left.
Anyway, we can’t sell everything
that’s left, or we won’t have any
personal, or any way to get more.
Which leaves us pretty well
screwed. Like 100 percent
screwed, unless I can, with lightning
speed, concoct a workable Plan B.
lan B
Revolves around that we need
money. Lots of it and fast.
Three possible ways to
come up with it.
Beg.
Not really my style. I mean,
I suppose I could call Mom,
tell her I can’t even afford food.
But would she believe me,
and would she care even if she did?
Borrow.
I could maybe call Leigh, ask for
a loan until payday, lie and tell
her there really is a payday
coming up soon. But she’s not
exactly rolling in money herself.
Or steal.
I’ve never considered this option
before. Course, I never had to.
Would I even be good at it?
Who would I steal from?
And afterward, would I feel
no remorse?
ne Thing’s for Sure
If I’m going to steal, Trey has to be
in on it. This is his fault to begin with.
“So, any ideas how we might come
up with some cash, uh, illegally?”
You mean like counterfeiting?
Huh. That thought never crossed
my mind. We couldn’t do that, could
we? “No. I meant more like…hmm,
borrowing. With no intent to repay.”
You aren’t serious, are you?
“Far as I can see, we don’t have
much of a choice. We’re almost dry,
and we’ve got to make good with Cesar
to get more…and stay in one piece.”
Well, I’m not about to snatch purses.
Sheesh. Never thought of that, either.
“What if I could get hold of some checks.
Think we could get away with cashing
them?” I have an idea where to get some.
Probably. At least with a fake ID.
Fake ID. Good idea. It could, in fact,
come in handy in a number of ways.
But I have no idea how to get one.
“How could I get one of those?”
I do happen to know this guy….
A guy who makes them for college
students. A guy who once helped
Trey himself out. A guy who isn’t
the least bit difficult to get hold of.
That must be some kind of sign.
he Guy Lives
In a little brick house, with a white
picket fence and flowers in the yard,
a few blocks from the university.
He greets Trey with a nod, says
to me,
Hi. I’m Frank. Come in.
Frank doesn’t look like a crook.
He looks like a computer nerd,
which he most definitely is.
His turn to check me out.
So,
you want to get into the clubs?
“Uh, yeah. Can you help me out?
Guess I don’t quite look twenty-
one.” Perfect. Just perfect.
No problem. Come on. Let’s
take your picture.
Digital this. Special program
that, my new ID is almost ready
to go. Just one thing missing.
What name did you want here?
Most people use someone else’s.
Well, duh. Of course I want to
use someone else’s, the someone
whose name will be on the checks.
“Put Marie Springer.”
ow All I Have to Do
Is figure out how to get the checks.
Best if no one is home. I give Mom
a call. A bit of small talk, then I ask,
“When is Jake’s next baseball game?
Trey and I thought we might stop by.”
I’m turning into an experienced liar.
I listen for a tone of suspicion, but can
find not a trace when Mom informs me,
Friday at three. He’s starting pitcher.
“Very cool. Are you bringing Hunter?”
Like she would leave him with a baby-
sitter. If she’s going, he’s going too.
Her voice totally cools.
Of course.
We’re going out to dinner afterward.
You’re welcome to come with us.
Everything clicks completely into
place. Unreal.
Maybe we’ll take
you up on that. See you Friday.