Jason backed toward his mom and leaned into her chair, pushing into that safe place between her knees. She folded her arms around him and pulled him in, nice and snug.
The judge hadn’t finished, still looking at Jason. “Can you tell me what these boys looked like?”
“They were bigger. I already said.” He knew this wasn’t enough. He went on to describe their different sizes, their clothing, their tattoos and haircuts, all he could remember.
The judge wrote a bunch of notes in her open folder then looked at Jason for a long time. “Can you tell me if these boys were white, or oriental, or African American, or what?”
Oh yeah! “Jimmy said they were illegals.”
“Illegal what?”
Jason shrugged. “MS-13, of course.”
JASON FELT TIRED ALL over, sitting in back with Mr. Kirby driving them home. He had finally come to terms with one fact; his best friend had gone to heaven. He’d never see him again, not until heaven.
Mr. Kirby had been talking to Jason’s mom all the way home but Jason hadn’t been listening, not until now.
“I wish you’d think about it. I know John would have wanted you to remarry. His son needs a good father figure.”
Good grief.
Mom would never marry a poop head like him. If Mom wasn’t looking, Mr. Kirby would stare at her boobs and lap, licking his lips.
What a creepy creep.
“Not right now, Tom.” She didn’t look at him. She looked out the window instead. “I’m sorry.”
“What is it?” Mr. Kirby sounded mad again. “Am I ugly or what?”
“It’s not you.” She always sounded sincere. “It’s . . .” She poked her thumb toward Jason and shook her head, searching for words like she did with Grandma. “There’s just too much happening right now to even think about something like that.”
“You know how I feel about you.” The creepy creep flinched toward the back seat. “You and the kid, that is. Besides, it’s been a long time since . . . Well, you know.”
“Tom, I’m grateful for all you’ve done. Without your help, I just don’t know what we would have done. Please, tell Mr. Emerick to send me the bill.”
“Nonsense. What are friends for?” Mr. Kirby turned onto Waterloo Drive and stopped at Grandma’s house.
Finally.
Jason unbuckled his seatbelt, jumped out and slammed the door, letting Mom know they were home.
Barnabas waited at the gate, prancing and moaning, always happy to see Jason.
Jason opened the gate and got his face licked all over.
Mom followed him into the yard and closed the gate.
Barnabas bounded away, jumped up, and said hello to her.
“How are you feeling, honey?”
“Jimmy’s gone, isn’t he?” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I can’t see him 'til I get to heaven.”
Chapter Seven
For what must have been the tenth time, Carolyn’s mother said, “Why do you need to move all the way up there?”
Carolyn didn’t know whether she was hurt or angry, hard to tell with her. She always made everything difficult.
“Mom, please. I’m trying to make sure I don’t forget anything.”
“Why can’t you buy a nice place near here? This is your home.” Mom scowled, her usual expression. She'd propped herself in the doorway, fanning her cigarette like a wand, her gestures telling Carolyn to put her stuff away and stop all this nonsense. She’d told Carolyn a hundred times to find another place for her and Jason to live. Now she acted like their moving would kill her.
Carolyn placed the last of her books into a cardboard box and shifted them around, making sure she could close the flaps.
Okay.
She faced her mother and forced a friendly smile. “We’ve talked and talked about this. A better neighborhood might be safer but this whole city is changing, and you know it. There’s nowhere seems to be safe these days.”
Mom puffed on her cigarette. Her glare narrowed.
Good grief.
Carolyn picked up the roll of packing tape, closed the cardboard flaps and taped it shut. “Remember that woman in Beverly Hills, that literary agent? She got shot to death just driving home. The police didn’t have a clue why that guy did it. He committed suicide.
“And, Jimmy. For all we know, it was some gang initiation that killed him. The police still don’t have any suspects. They’re too busy with sensitivity training and going to barber shops.” Carolyn stepped closer, needing for this to sink in. “It could just as easily have been Jason’s funeral.”
“You’ve even turned my grandson against me.”
“What are you talking about?” Mom’s comment had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation to this point. Just plain mean.
Carolyn picked up the heavy box of books in both arms and moved toward the door, preparing to use it as a battering ram.
Her mom dropped a long cigarette ash into her cupped hand and stood aside. “You can’t wait to get out of here, can you?” She was hurting but she was right. Carolyn couldn’t wait to get out.
She'd suddenly and unexpectedly become wealthy. She loved the independence that offered. Just that knowledge had given her strength. Maybe in her own house, with Mom as a guest, getting along wouldn’t be so difficult. “Mom, I’ve invited you to come with us. What more can I do?”
Gratefully, her mother had declined.
Who knows? Maybe Carolyn would feel differently later. She pushed the heavy box in front of her and squeezed through the doorway.
Mom followed close behind, puffing out a continuous cloud of smoke. “You know I can’t do that. Without me, that office would be lost.”
Carolyn turned and pushed the security barred screen door open with her back, looking into her mother’s desperation. “You’re always complaining that no one in that office appreciates you.” Carolyn stopped on the front porch. “They gave that other girl your raise, didn’t they?”
Mom followed her onto the porch. “She’s young and pretty, that’s all.”
Carolyn turned and walked toward the street.
Jason and Barnabas waited at the front gate.
“Hurry up, Mom.” Jason opened the gate. “Barnabas is ready to
