Invisible Ellen (20 page)

And Temerity laughed.

The sound stunned Ellen so sharply that it deadlocked her hysteria. She looked up at Temerity's face in a half sob, completely at a loss.

“Nuh-uh, can't do it,” her friend said. “Sorry.”

T
he arms of the lightweight jacket lay flung out across the floor of Ellen's room as though it had collapsed there, exhausted, staring up at the ceiling. They had unzipped the jacket and on the body of the fabric lay three objects.

The gun, which they'd been careful not to touch, had its business end pointed toward the sofa, but Ellen kept one eye on it as if it might spontaneously go off. The large brown paper bag, reeking of marijuana, rested near the gun's handle. The smaller paper bag was right in front of Temerity's crossed legs.

Temerity felt for it, picked it up and tested its weight.

“Feels like money,” she said. “Lots of it.”

“Should we open it?” They were the first words Ellen had spoken since her breakdown on the roof. She was cowed, ashamed of the outburst, shaken by her loss of control. Temerity had said that it was a good thing, and she'd actually sounded impressed when she'd said it, as she coerced Ellen down the ladder and back through the window with a constant stream of encouragement and praise. Ellen could not agree. She was disturbed that so much pain and anger had been exposed, and even more disturbed that it had even been there. Though she had to admit that the injection of fury had proved useful,
she did not ever want to feel that much again. She'd thought she was through being impaled on that kind of spiked, cold metal pain. She'd worked so hard to put it all aside and just exist, floating in a mushier, neutral place. Temerity had told her, in the course of her soothing monologue, that Ellen should not feel badly about having such a reaction, that it was brave for her to allow that anger and hurt to come out. She'd actually said she was glad it had happened, that it was a good thing, but Ellen would have chosen numbness over that insufferable anguish any day; in fact, she did choose numbness
every
day. But a half hour of Temerity's ministrations had smoothed her razor-slashed nerves enough to go on.

When Temerity ripped away the paper from the smaller bundle, Ellen saw a two-inch-thick stack of bills, and she couldn't stop a gasp; she'd never seen so much cash except at the Costco. “It is money, isn't it?” Temerity said. “Is it ones or twenties or what?” She held it out for Ellen to investigate.

Ellen squinted at it. “It looks like mostly twenties. There are some tens and—wait.” She took the bills and flipped through them. “There are quite a few hundred-dollar bills. This is a lot of money.” She handed the cache back to Temerity. “Was it J.B.'s, you think?”

“More likely it's the money the kid was supposed to buy the drugs with, but he thought maybe he'd keep them both. That's the occupational hazard of dealing with someone whose business ethics aren't exactly exemplary.”

“What do we do with it? Give it to the police?”

“Mmm, I don't think so. It makes J.B. look pretty guilty of selling drugs. He says he's going to start a new life, and while going to jail would certainly be different, I don't think it's the change he had in mind.”

“I don't want it,” Ellen said.

“Me neither.” She hummed. “Maybe we'll give it to a drug rehab charity. I do love irony. I'll take it home and hide it for now, we can figure out what to do with it later. First, though, the gun. We need to put it somewhere obvious, then we can call the police and tell them where it is. We'll say we spotted it, but we don't want to touch it, something like that.”

Ellen took a deep breath. She just wanted the nasty thing out of her house. “How about under the back steps? He could have dropped it and they could have missed it. Do you think they looked there?”

“Even if they did, so what? They need to look again.”

“I'll do it, just give me a little more time to . . . stop shaking.”

Temerity set the stack of money aside and felt for Ellen's leg. “You were magnificent,” she said. “I'm sorry about what that guy said.”

Ellen shrugged, but it was more of a spasm than a gesture. “I got used to that a long time ago.”

But Temerity shook her head. “Nobody gets used to that. I had a few times . . .” Her hand tightened on Ellen's shin, and Ellen sensed a shift from offering strength to drawing it. “I don't like to talk about it, or even remember those things; besides, not many people can relate. But this is you, so I'll tell you about this one time because I want you to know I understand. I mean, sort of, at least.

“I used to take swimming lessons at the Y, and there were swim teams that practiced there.” She cleared her throat and shook her head before she went on. “Anyway, one day I went into the locker room to change after my lesson, and the girls' team was in there. One of the girls started talking to me, being friendly, I thought. She was thirteen, my age. I remember I was excited that I might be making a new friend.” She snorted a sad laugh. “Anyway, I got in the shower, and then, while I was washing my hair, I heard laughing.” She paused
again and tears welled in her eyes. She brushed them away angrily with her free hand. “Boys laughing. The girls had brought in the boys' team to watch me take a shower.”

Ellen put both hands over her mouth. Blue-hot anger sparked in her again, all the more frustrating because this had been long ago and there was no way to defend her friend. “They all started making these horrible comments,” Temerity went on, “and . . . I couldn't get away, or find my clothes. They'd taken them, and my towel. Finally, my instructor came in looking for me. They all got in trouble, but I never forgot it, and I never went back. I wouldn't leave my house for a month.”

For Ellen, who had a mortal fear of anyone ever seeing her naked, this was a manifestation of a nightmare. She knew firsthand how cruel adolescent girls could be. Her frequent moving in the foster care system had made her a constant outcast and forced her to repeat the sixth grade, which labeled her as “stupid” to some particularly vicious specimens. She'd been using the toilet in a stall at her new overcrowded public elementary school when a small group of popular sixth-grade girls had kicked open the door and begun pelting her with wet paper towels, calling her names and laughing at her. She had actually tried to crawl into the small space behind the toilet to hide, which had provided the girls with a wealth of excrement-based nicknames to call her. Those names, ridicule, and cruel taunts had followed her when she slunk through those hated hallways, praying to disappear, to not be there.

Remembering that Temerity had used the term to describe Ellen's own past once, she selected it now and said quietly, “That sucks.”

“Yeah. It did.” Temerity shook her head as though it would loosen the memories and send them flying. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“Those little bitches were petty and mean, probably still are, and I don't believe that cruel people are ever happy. Do you?”

Ellen considered it. It made sense. Her mother had been cruel and miserable. She thought about the Loretta woman she had seen pick a fight with the nice mom at the thrift store, insisting on smoking in the entrance of the door when she could have easily moved away. That was clearly a wretched person, and her resulting behavior was vile. “No,” Ellen said, feeling stronger. “No, I don't think they are. If they were happy, they wouldn't even think about being mean.”

“Exactly.” Temerity smacked her leg. “Enough of this pity fest. Let's get busy!”

“Wait.” Ellen looked down at the largest item on the floor in front of them. “What about that?” she asked, and picking up Temerity's hand, she set it on the bag of dope.

Temerity smiled. “I'll ask Justice, but I think I know what he'll want to do. There's a hospice where he sometimes volunteers. I know they use marijuana to help people who can't eat and are in chronic pain; I'm guessing he'll drop it off there.”

“It that legal?” Ellen was surprised.

Temerity tilted her head to one side and smiled wryly. “‘Legal' becomes more of a suggestion when someone is in constant pain with no hope of getting better. If something can relieve their suffering, and it certainly can't hurt them any worse, then obeying an antiquated law might be considered more of a luxury than they can afford.”

This logic sat easily on Ellen. So they decided what to do. Using rusty barbecue tongs to carefully lower the gun into a paper bag, Ellen carried it down the stairs, around the back of the building. She stopped at the edge of the curtain lady's apartment. It was completely
dark inside; no light seeped through from behind the fabric. She must have gone out—that was unusual. Ellen heard a scratching at the base of the back door and a pathetic whining. It sounded like curtain lady would have a little extra cleaning to do if she didn't get back soon. She moved out into the courtyard and slipped the gun out of the bag next to J.B.'s steps, then kicked it underneath. She pounded back around the building, up the stairs, and slammed the door behind her.

“Done?” Temerity asked.

“Done,” Ellen said, breathing hard.

“Good. I'll call from a pay phone and say that my kid thought they saw a gun when they were playing, but I don't want to get involved. That must be common enough around here.” Ellen said she thought that was probably right, both the not wanting to get involved and the seeing the gun parts.

“The last thing is this”—Temerity put her hands on her hips—“will you be all right here tonight?”

Tonight. Work. “What time is it?” Ellen looked at the clock as she said it. It was the first time she had ever forgotten about work. Almost eight. “I won't be here. I have to go to work.”

“Perfect. After that guy saw you, I don't really want you here alone until he's safely tucked into the back of a patrol car.”

Ellen hadn't considered this, but she still didn't think she was in danger, and she didn't have anywhere else to go anyway. “I know he saw me, but I don't think he'll come back now. There's no reason for him to. He knows we have this, and this is what he wanted.” Ellen rustled the bag a little so Temerity would know what she was referring to.

“Yeah, I'm still not all right with that. At least not until the cops
find the gun tonight and hopefully pick him up. I'll wait for you, then we can take the bus together and I'll have Justice meet me at the stop, since I'll be carrying contraband. Do you have a few plastic bags? We'd better zip-lock this up airtight or I'll either be arrested or smoked before we get to the corner.” She too referenced the brown paper bag around which waves of rich, skunky scent rose, clung, and refused to disperse.

So they repackaged the cash and wrapped the marijuana in several layers of plastic grocery bags, then Ellen put the whole thing into a canvas tote bag. “There, that should do it.”

They walked to the corner and while they waited for the 12, Ellen took repeated deep sniffs over the grocery bag but she couldn't detect the telltale odor.

The ride was uneventful, though Ellen couldn't help feeling that everyone on the bus was watching Temerity suspiciously.
It's my guilty conscience,
she thought.
My perspective.

Justice was waiting for Temerity at the stop. He gave Ellen a little nod through the window but his face was drawn and concerned. As the bus pulled out, Ellen could see the siblings launch into a heated discussion. Temerity looked both annoyed and abashed.

Ellen's knees were beginning to ache. She had put some ointment on them when she changed into dry clothes but she could feel the scrapes stiffening up as they scabbed, making bending and straightening excruciating. When she stood to exit at her stop, she could only rise into a crouch, so she had to walk in a crooked, bent position, which made her feel like a fat spider.

Fortunately, the more she moved, the easier it became. The pain lessened and by the time she reached the loading dock she was limber enough to function almost normally. Inside Costco, Ellen was going through her usual preparations when she saw Irena. This
surprised her; she hadn't expected the woman to be there. And the Crows were obviously thinking the same thing.

“What are you doing here?” Rosa asked her. “Shouldn't you be at the hospital with the baby?”

“I cannot stay there.” Irena hung her head and focused on her locker. “I must to work. And doctor says he must go home in a few days, maybe.” She leaned into her locker and pulled out her battered CD player.

There was something in the way she said the word “maybe” that caught Ellen's attention. It wasn't a “maybe he can go home,” more like a “maybe I'll take him home.” Kiki hadn't missed it either. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “You don't want him, do you?”

Irena shot a glance at Kiki, fear of discovery in her eyes. Kiki pursed her mouth, waiting for the answer. She crossed her arms and drummed her long fingers against her elbow. Irena tried to draw herself up but the attempt failed and she collapsed forward, exhaustion and worry folding her like an accordion. “He is not my baby. I do not have money to take care.” Her hopelessness was hard to witness.