One Day Soon (39 page)

“Okay, well how about this, Jason, I have over three weeks of paid time off that I haven’t taken. Not to count the more than eighty hours of overtime I’ve put in in the last three months that need to be used. So excuse me if I want to take a day off for the first time in years,” I snapped.

“Whoa, Imogen, I wasn’t saying you can’t have the day off. Just don’t insult my intelligence with the lame
I’m sick with a fake incurable illness
excuse. I know you could use the time off. I’ve been telling you to take a break for a while now, if you remember,” Jason pointed out and I felt bad for jumping down his throat.

“Sorry, Jason. You’re right. I need a day to myself. I’ve been a little
stressed.”
He had no idea.

“Does this have anything to do with your client that you helped to discharge from the hospital last night?” Jason asked.

“What do you mean? Why would it have anything to do with that?” I demanded.

“I just wondered if there were any problems with getting him settled. Where did you end up taking him? Did he agree to go to the shelter?” Jason asked, sounding perplexed by my attitude.

“Uh. Yeah. Okay, well if it’s fine for me to take the day, I’ll just see you tomorrow,” I said quickly.

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow,” Jason replied, still sounding perturbed.

I rushed through my shower and hurriedly dressed in a pair of jeans and soft green sweater that was one of my favorites. When I went back out to the living room I found Yoss standing by my open front door talking to a small woman with very blond hair and a very loud voice.

My mother.

What was with all of the visitors this morning?

“There she is!” my mother cried, holding her arms out for a hug.

“Mom. What are you doing here?” I asked, letting her hug me. Just for a minute.

“I told you I was going to come by. Breakfast. Gossip. Love advice. Remember?” She looked put out by my bad memory.

“Oh, I must have forgotten.” I glanced at Yoss who had yet to close the door.

“I figured. You never answer your phone,” Mom scolded. She looked at Yoss and frowned. “I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”

“Mom, this is Yoss. Yoss, this is my mother, Sylvie Conner,” I introduced them.

My mom gave Yoss a strange look. “You seem really familiar, Yoss. Have we met before?”

Yoss opened his mouth but I cut him off before he could speak. “I don’t know how that’s possible, Mom.” I turned her to face the open door. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to rain check. Yoss and I were just on our way out.”

“But we have plans,” my mother whined.

“I know. I’m really sorry. We’ll pig out on ice cream and commiserate over the horrors of men another time, okay? We really need to go.” I beckoned for Yoss to follow me as I ushered my mom outside. I quickly closed the door behind us so she couldn’t weasel her way back in.

If I let her, my mom would plant herself on the couch and never leave.

My mom looked back at Yoss. “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere,” she pondered.

I quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you later this week, Mom.”

My mother sighed deeply. “You’re really letting me down, Imi,” she complained. “What am I going to do now? I even put on my fancy red heels.” She stuck out her foot to show off her ridiculously high stilettos.

“You didn’t need to get all dressed up for breakfast, Mom,” I laughed and she quickly struck a pose.

“A woman’s gotta look good. You never know who might see you.”

I gave a Yoss an exasperated look and he winked, clearly enjoying the exchange.

My mother, being more observant than usual, looked from Yoss to me shrewdly.

“So how do you know my daughter?”

“We’re old friends,” he told her, smiling softly.

“Friends, huh?” She cocked her head to the side. “I swear I’ve seen you before. Did you ever come over to the house when Imogen was younger?”

Why was she hammering this point? There was no way she could have met Yoss.

“Mom, seriously, we’ve got to get going. I’ll call you.” I kissed her on the cheek and maneuvered her to the car.

“Okay, sweet cheeks, but don’t forget. Even though you have this hot piece of man candy here, you still need to call your mama,” she lectured, giving me a lascivious grin.

I groaned. “Goodbye, Mom.”

She got into her car and with a wave puttered down the street, her old Ford spewing exhaust the whole way.

“Sorry about that,” I grimaced, walking to my own car.

Yoss got in the passenger side and quickly closed the door.

“Don’t be. She’s not at all as I expected,” Yoss said, putting on his seatbelt.

“She takes some getting used to,” I muttered, reversing out of my driveway and finally heading towards the river.

Fifteen Years Ago

T
oo many nights had passed since I had first arrived at The Pit.

It was November.

Cold and dark, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt truly warm. We huddled together for safety, sticking together while the world around us screamed and cried.

The Pit was a dangerous place. Another girl had been attacked last month.

Awful things clung to the shadows.

The constant threat of
possibility
made me clingy and desperate. Yoss tried to keep the bad stuff away, but it was becoming harder and harder to shield me from the world Manny dragged him into night after night.

I knew too much. I tended to his cuts. I kissed the bruises. I held him while he raged in his sleep. He couldn’t lie to me. So he stopped trying. And every time Manny came for him a part of me died.

And I became more and more angry.

Because I wanted to leave.

Yet I wasn’t sure Yoss would ever come with me.

One afternoon Yoss and I found Di and the others sitting with a larger group towards the back of The Pit. A fire was burning in a trashcan casting flickering shadows on the wall.

Shane was drinking from a flask that Bug handed to him. Karla was laughing at something the guys were saying. They all looked a pretty loaded. Bug’s bulging eyes were glassy and red. Shane’s smile was a little too wide; Karla’s laugh a little too loud.

I noticed Di lying on her stomach, her shirt pulled up to her shoulders, a large man with tattoos all over his arms was leaning over her, pushing a needle into her skin.

“What are you doing, Di?” I gaped in horror at the sight of her blood dripping down her side.

Di grimaced, obviously in pain. “Bruno’s giving me a tattoo, what does it look like?”

“It looks like he’s torturing you,” I observed.

Bruno glanced up at me and grinned. He was missing a few teeth and it gave him a sinister look.

“I can do you next, sweetheart. Maybe a tribal around your thigh? A bunny rabbit on your tit?” he sneered.

My cheeks flamed hot and I wanted to smack Bruno. But he was a little on the scary side.

Yoss stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulders. “Watch your mouth, man,” he warned the bigger guy. I expected Bruno to laugh at Yoss’s posturing. The tattoo artist easily outweighed Yoss by a hundred pounds. But he didn’t laugh. Instead he looked a contrite. His smile faded and he appeared apologetic.

“Sorry, Yoss. I didn’t realize she was yours.”

Yoss scowled.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Sorry, Imogen,” Bruno said, sounding sincere.

“No problem,” I replied, not wanting to hold a grudge. Particularly with a guy who looked like he could break my arm with his pinkie. Bruno wiped the needle with a cloth and dipped it in what looked like black ink from a broken pen. Then he pushed it into Di’s skin again.

“Shouldn’t he be using a gun? Or sterile needles,” I whispered to Yoss.

“Bruno uses clean needles. No one has ever gotten an infection from his tattoos. He’s pretty amazing, given that he doesn’t use any traditional tools,” Yoss said, watching Bruno work.

“African tribes don’t use fucking tattoo guns,” Bruno grunted, wiping a bead of blood from Di’s back. He leaned down over her. “You okay, Di?” he asked her.

Di nodded her head, her face buried in the crook of her elbow.

“I have time when I’m done with Di’s to do yours, Yoss,” Bruno said.

I looked up at Yoss in surprise. “You want a tattoo?”

Yoss shrugged. “I’ve have an idea for one.”

“What do you want to get?” I asked.

“Your name on his butt cheek!” Bug yelled, then fell onto his back, laughing hysterically.

Yoss rolled his eyes and ignored him. He pulled the thin chain of the necklace he had bought me from inside my shirt. The little red man lay against my chest. “I want this. Just this. So you have one and I have one. Not too big. And I want it right here.” He touched a finger to the side of his neck.

“On your neck? Isn’t that a little noticeable?” I asked incredulously.

“That’s the point,” Yoss told me, kissing my mouth with a loud smack. He turned once again to Bruno who was covering the dark spot on Di’s back with some sort of antibacterial cream. I was glad to see he was doing something sanitary. “Yeah, if you’ve got time, I’d love to get it now.”

“How’s it look?” Di asked me, sitting up. I bent over to get a better look at the tattoo. I was expecting something crude and elementary, given the primal way Bruno went about it. I was surprised to see that the tattoo, a compass with the arrow pointing north, was very detailed. It was beautiful.

“It’s awesome! Why a compass?” I asked her.

Di pulled her shirt back down and pulled a cigarette from the pack she always kept in her back pocket. “A compass tells you where you’re going right?”

I nodded.

“I like the reminder that I’ve still got somewhere to go,” Di explained, taking the lighter Bruno offered her.

“That’s deep, Di,” Bruno remarked.

“Shut it, B,” she snarled.

“So what do you want?” Bruno asked Yoss.

Yoss beckoned me closer and pointed to my necklace. “I want this, right here,” he pointed to the left side of his neck.

Bruno squinted at my chest and it made me a little uncomfortable having him peer in the general direction of my boobs. “Okay then, that’s easy enough. It shouldn’t take me long. Di, move your ass and let our boy have a seat,” Bruno barked.

Di tossed her still lit cigarette in Bruno’s face. “You’re such a dick,” she muttered.

Bruno laughed and made sure to stomp out the smoldering cigarette with the tip of his boot.

Yoss took the spot Di vacated.

“Does this color red work?” Bruno asked, holding out a pen with bright red ink.

“Yeah, that works,” Yoss told him. Bruno broke the pen in half and dabbed the ink onto a small ceramic plate. He then coated the tip of a needle and brought it to Yoss’s skin, getting started on the tattoo.

It took Bruno over an hour. Yoss didn’t say much. Bug and Karla left and Shane had passed out, snoring softly in the corner. Di had wandered over to another group of kids nearby. It was just the three of us. Yoss, me, and Bruno working steadily.

“Okay, man, it’s done,” Bruno said finally. Yoss let out a small breath, clearly relieved it was over.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Bruno asked as I got up to have a look at his handiwork.

“I like it.” I meant it. It was sort of perfect for Yoss. Different. Just like him.

“Thanks, man,” Yoss said. “What do I owe you?”

Bruno peered at him shrewdly. “Whatcha got?”

“I’ve got some cash, but you can pick what you want from my stuff if you want,” Yoss offered.

“How about that stereo I saw you lugging in here a couple of months back.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” Yoss muttered, though he didn’t seem happy about it. Yoss loved his stereo. We listened to music every night before we went to sleep. It helped to drown out the misery around us.

I wanted to tell him to not give it to Bruno. To find something else to trade. But it wasn’t mine. Yoss could do with it what he wanted.