Have Mercy (Have a Life #1) (8 page)

Jane was gone for a very long time and when she came back from her meeting with Principal Thwaite, she was more subdued than I have ever seen her.   She said we had to talk and went into the house and came back out with two cans of beer.  She cracked one open and handed me the other one, sat down on the steps and gestured for me to sit next to her.

              “I don’t like beer,” I told her.

              “You have my permission.  You’re old enough.”

              “Actually, no I’m not,” I said it snottily and pushed the can away.

              She shrugged.  “So.  Anyway.  Thwaite fired me.  No, not fired me.  I’m suspended.  Administrative leave.”

              “What’s the difference?” I asked.

              “In my case, none.  I’ll probably never go back.”

              “You want that, though, don’t you?  You always said you hated teaching.”

              “I never said that!  I love teaching.  Where did you get that idea?”

              “You said it.  You said you hated teaching.  Remember? When we took that vacation to see The Griffin when I was ten?  You asked him to let us live with him and you said you couldn’t bear it anymore, that you hated teaching.  I re
mem
ber that.”  My head really hurt, maybe from not sleeping or from the beer, which I was now guzzling, or maybe it was that Seven-Eleven hot dog because I felt like barfing.

              “
You’re making that up
, Mercedes!  You got hysterical when we were leaving.”

              “I did not get hysterical!  I never get hysterical. 
You
said your teaching was the only thing keeping us in Pennsylvania.  I know!  I
remember
that!”

              “Okay, okay.  Whatever.  Well, anyway.  Do you want to know why I’m suspended?  I guess you have a right to know why I was suspended.”

                I put my fists over my ears and closed my eyes.  “No, no no no,” I said.  “I don’t care why, I don’t care!” 

              “Okay, Mercedes.”  She looked really sad and I started to really really
really
hate her.  I could take care of her when she was happy and we were special and talented, but I couldn’t take care of her if we weren’t.  I mean, I’m the kid, you know, and she’s the mother and one of the rules of the Two Cool Society, I made it up and Jane agreed to it, was that being cool made you happy.  I didn’t
want
to take care of Jane’s sadness.  I didn’t even know
how
to, to be honest.  Captain Kirby had said, “You can’t go back,” but at that moment I wanted Jane to light one of her stupid cigarettes and blow smoke right in my face and leave the dirty dishes in the sink for me to do while she took a nap on the sofa and laugh at the dandelion seeds blowing across the neighborhood and continue not giving a shit what anyone thought like she always did.  Here’s the thing about Jane: the thing I hated most about her was that she never seemed sad but I was
always
sad.  I mean
some
one has to be sad or you aren’t a grownup house or something. Maybe, like Mrs. Thwaite said, you
just
need a moral compass.  But that’s stupid.  I mean, who wants a moral compass if you turn out like Mrs. Thwaite?

              “I just want you to hear my side of things,” Jane said, “Before you hear it from other people.  I guess I want you to be on my side.”  And then she started crying, bawling really, and I was screaming “Shut up shut up shut up, just shut
up
!” but she was telling me anyway that if she didn’t turn herself in the sheriff was going to come to the house and arrest her because the DA was pressing charges, he had to, the law was the law, especially for teachers because they were role models, and Rob was seventeen, only eight days from his eighteenth birthday—how was
she
supposed to know
that
?  He lied to her!—and she didn’t know who she could ask for bail money so once she turned herself in she probably wouldn’t be able to make arrangements for
me
.  “I’m sorry I messed up, Mercedes, I didn’t mean to.  I don’t know why they’re being such pricks about it.  I didn’t hurt anybody.  I was just trying to make The Griffin see…I don’t know.  I left him a voice message from school.  God, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

              The beer and the sun baking us and that wrinkled hot dog which I was picturing swarming

with bacteria that would multiply in my stomach and travel to my throat en route to my brain was being smothered and choked by a three ton bag of Jane O’Reilly’s sorrow which she was trying to ease onto my lap.  

              “Say you forgive me, Mercedes, for making such a mess.  Do you forgive me?”

              I couldn’t carry the bag of Jane’s sorrow and woes, even if I wanted to.  It was too heavy this time.  Forgive her?  Never.

              “Excuse me,” I said, “I got to go.”

              “I guess I should call your grandmother in Akron.  Come in the house while I do that.”             

              “No,” I said, “I really have to go.  I have to throw up.”

              At eleven in the morning, when it was becoming pretty clear that Jane—who had driven herself to the courthouse at nine— wasn’t coming back, the doorbell rang and I looked through the curtains in the living room to see a large woman on our front porch.  She had long straight black hair with an inch of gray roots showing and a weird high forehead.  The way she was dressed she looked like Principal Thwaite had done her shopping.  She was holding a sheaf of papers and looking at our pathetic lawn with distaste.  She rang the bell again and rubbed her index finger down the doorjamb and was examining the dirt on it when she saw me looking at her through the curtains.  She walked over to the window, grimacing towards her ears in what I guess was supposed to be a disarming smile. 

              “Mercedes?” she yelled at the window.  “Mercedes O’Reilly?  I’m Mrs. Valliere from Orphans and Childrens Court.  I’m here to help you.”  She fished around in her purse and pulled out an ID card which she pushed up against the window but which I couldn’t read through the

filthy pane. 

              I stepped away and let the curtains close. 

              Mrs. Valliere waited for me to let her in and when it became obvious I wasn’t going to, she started jerking the knob back and forth and banging on the door.  “Mercedes, you have to let me in.  I’m here to help you.”

              Captain Kirby had come over after Jane left.  She was standing behind me.  “You gotta let her in, Mercy, or it just goes on your record that you’re difficult and then it only gets worse.”                           

              “Why should I let a stranger in my house? Isn’t that what they’re always harping on?”   

              “Just talk to her.  She’ll tell you how they’re going to make everything perfect for you if you do exactly what they say.  You can figure out what’s next when she leaves.”

              “My mother will be home soon,” I yelled through the door.  “Why don’t you come back later.” 

              “I’m going to have to call the fire department to let me in if you don’t,” Mrs. Valliere said loudly.              .

              “Can they do that?” I asked Captain Kirby.

              “Dunno. Maybe.” 

              Mrs. Valliere began hip checking the door which was making groaning noises.  I unlatched it and yanked it open and Mrs. Valliere fell into the house. “Good morning,” she said.  

              “I told you my mother isn’t here.  She’ll be back later.”

              “You’re the one I need to talk to. And you are who exactly?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Captain Kirby.  “Are you Mrs. Tudesco?”

              “Janet Kirby, ma’m.”  Captain Kirby said.  “I’m Mercedes’ cousin.”

              “Cousin?”  Mrs. Valliere leafed through her papers.  “I thought her grandmother was her closest relative.”

              “My
father
is my closest relative,” I said.

              “I’m the black sheep of the family,” Captain Kirby said.  “They pretend I don’t exist.  I’m not surprised there’s nothing about me in your records.”  She shook her head sadly.  “Sometimes  I feel like I’m invisible.”

              “Do you have some identification on you?” Mrs. Valliere asked.

              “I can’t drive.  I have epilepsy.  But gosh, I’m glad you came.  It would be marvelous if you could help me.  With getting a driving license, I mean.  Then I can vote, and drink, and do everything you do, m’am.”

              I thought Captain Kirby was going to have a seizure right then, that’s what a good actress she was, and Mrs. Valliere was biting her lip not knowing who to help first.  We obviously had enough problems between us for a month of non-stop intervention.

              “Well, you’ll have to come down to the office tomorrow,” she said, finally.  “For now, I am here to help Mercedes.  Don’t you think that should be our priority?  To get your cousin with her grandmother?  Now, is that
your
grandmother, too?” 

              “It sure would be great to get a driving license,” Captain Kirby said. 

              “Can we sit down?” Mrs. Valliere asked, as she helped herself to a seat in the kitchen.  “Did you have breakfast today?”

              “Bacon and scrambled eggs,” Captain Kirby said.

              “Not you,” Mrs. Valliere said, “I mean, I’m glad you had a good breakfast but we’re here to discuss Mercedes, aren’t we?” 

“I had a great breakfast too,” I said.  “My cousin made it.  She’s a chef.”

              Mrs. Valliere looked at Captain Kirby suspiciously.  “You look so familiar to me.  You don’t have any form of ID on you?  And it’s too bad that Mrs, Tudesco didn’t mention you.  It’s so much easier if there are relatives right in town.”

              “Whatever you decide is fine with me,” Captain Kirby said.  “You’re the pro.  But now, I got to go to work.  It was very nice meeting you, m’am.” 

              “Where do you work?” Mrs. Valliere asked.

              “At the high school, ma’m.  In the kitchen.  I haven’t been late in five years.  Never missed a day.  Stuff like that means a lot, right, about your helping me get a driving license, right?”

              “I’m sure it will.”

              “Don’t forget to study for your finals, cuz,” Kirby admonished me and left.

              “It’s funny, isn’t it?” Mrs. Valliere said, “That she isn’t listed here.”

              I nodded.  “Funny.”

              “That would have made it easier.  But she isn’t here,” she leafed through her papers again, “So Judge Delgado has decided that you’ll have to go live with your grandmother in Akron.  She’s on a plane now and I can tell you, she can hardly wait to see you.”

              The last time I spoke to my grandmother she had trouble remembering my name.  I thought it was because she didn’t actually give a shit about me, but Jane said her mother was just distracted.  “She has this job she’s worried about.  Plus she’s almost 50.”  Great.  That’s just what I needed, a dotty old lady bossing me around.

              “What about my father?” I asked.  “Why can’t I go live with him?”

              “Judge Delgado has decided that under the circumstances you should probably have a more wholesome influence.  You’re a minor, Mercedes.  And because your mother is a suspected sex offender, you’re a ward of the court.  You need adult supervision which Judge Delgado has decided your mother isn’t fit to provide and there is a very real possibility your mother is going to jail.”

              Jane had told me before she left that she might not be coming back and said her mother

was on her way, but it was just words like in a story.  Now the story was coming to life.  It was like a creepy horror movie.  A ward of the court sounded like jail.  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.

              “We know you didn’t, dear.  But in case your mother, your sole custodian, is no longer here to care for you, you must go to your next of kin.”

              “Which is my father,” I said.  “I can go live with him in Texas.  He’s on his way there now.” 

I closed my eyes and could see his house on Google Earth.  I had it bookmarked as a favorite and could show it to Mrs. Valliere in a minute.  “His house has a swimming pool in the back.  That’s wholesome.”

              “Your father travels all the time.  He’s not a suitable parent for you at this time.  You need someone to give you constant supervision.  Like your grandmother.”

              “I don’t even
know
my grandmother!” I shouted.  “Like I forget her name.  Nellie, Jellie, Bellie?  I don’t remember! See!”

              “I know you’re going through a hard time,” Mrs. Valliere said.  “And I wish you could stay with your cousin, Janet, but we have rules for a reason and that is the protection of the child.  You, Mercedes.”

              “The Griffin is a great dad,” I said.  “I was going to live with him in Houston when I turned sixteen, anyway.”

              “He said that?” Mrs. Valliere asked.

              “Not in those exact words, but I know he wants it too.”

              “I’m sure he
does
.  But for
now
,” Mrs. Valliere said, “Your grandmother is your guardian.  You have another week of school and she has graciously agreed to stay with you here until school is out.  “Then”—she looked down at her papers—“you will go to Ohio to live with her until your mother’s trial.  Everything’s been arranged.  You’re very lucky that Mrs. Tudesco is such a good neighbor and alerted us to your plight.”

              “I don’t have a
plight
!  Why can’t I stay here until my mother gets a trial?  Mr. Dow says everyone gets a fair trial.  Mr. Dow is my social studies teacher.  Innocent until proven guilty.  Ask him if you don’t believe me.  He’s right at the school.”

              Mrs. Valliere tapped her pen on the table.  “You mother is trying to post bail.”

              “See.  You
have
to talk to The Griffin.  He’ll post the bail and Jane can come back and everything will be fine.  The Griffin is in
cred
ibly wealthy.”

              “You call your mother
Jane
?” Mrs. Valliere asked, writing it down in her file.
My
file.  I was becoming the difficult child Captain Kirby warned me not to become.

              “Just talk to The Griffin!”

              “Mercedes, this is no longer a suitable environment for you.  You can’t live unsupervised with a suspected sex offender.”

              Before this moment, Jane and I had written the official story of our life—The Two Cool Society.  To hear our story perverted, to hear Mrs. Valliere matter-of-factly calling Jane a sex offender—a
sex
offender!—made my stomach spaz out which I had the feeling was going to be happening a lot from now on. 

              “It’s not your choice.  It’s the law’s.”  She clipped her pen on the end of my file as it that settled everything, and stood up.  “I’ll give you a ride to school.  Your grandmother will be here by the time you get out.  And we already talked to Mr. Griffin.  He told us that he and your mother aren’t married and he doesn’t want you to come to Texas.”

              “Of course, my parents are married!  Jeez.  You misunderstood him.  You have to be very specific with The Griffin.  So, you asked him that specifically?  ‘Do you want Mercy to live with you?’  Did you ask him
that
?  You have to be very specific with The Griffin.  He has a lot on his mind.” 

              Mrs. Valliere sneaked a look at her phone and waited for me by the open door.  “Are you ready to go?  You’re already late for school.”