The Devil's Wire (15 page)

36

When Lenise opens the door to greet them, she's wearing a turquoise baby doll dress that belongs on someone half her age. There's been a special effort with the hair too, Jennifer notes. The thick red mane has been brushed umpteen times and sits perched on Lenise's shoulders like two strips of plucked wool.

Jennifer catches the flash of disapproval from Lenise at Jennifer's choice of a GAP t-shirt and jeans but she isn't about to apologize – she's been railroaded into this and just wants to get it over with.

When they go inside, a strange scent assaults Jennifer's senses. Baking milk. Her stomach churns and she tries not to show it. Benign music that could be Spandau Ballet plays on the small compact disc player on top of the sideboard.

Lenise turns to McKenzie. "There's a soda in the fridge for you."

Jennifer watches McKenzie slope off to the kitchen as if she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"What do you know about the hair?" says Jennifer.

"I had nothing to do what that," says Lenise. "She emerged one morning after the fact. Never said a word about it."

Jennifer isn't sure she believes her.

"The cleaning's worse, too," says Jennifer. "Now she's washing her hands a thousand times a day and refuses to touch the faucet without a paper towel."

Lenise hands Jennifer one of the two pre-poured Chardonnays from the sideboard. "You exaggerate."

"I am not exaggerating, Lenise. She needs help."

"It will pass."

Jennifer sits down on the tweed couch. "Was there any mention in the papers when I was sick?"

Lenise looks at Jennifer as if she's being particularly slow. "Stop worrying. They will never find him."

"Maybe they're just not saying. They do that sometimes – impose a media blackout while they investigate behind the scenes. Yesterday I saw a cop. I thought he was tailing me."

"You're being paranoid."

Jennifer raises her glass and gives herself a mock cheers salute. "Hello, Jennifer, welcome to the rest of your life," she says. "Paranoia becomes you."

"It's normal to feel this way."

"Is that so."

"You need to put everything behind you now, think of the future."

"Oh yeah and what future's that?"

"Now you're just being facetious."

Jennifer looks at Lenise – all dressed up with no place to go, eyeliner smudged in one corner of her eye, the hard effect of her face.

"What is it you want from life, Lenise?"

"The same as anyone else."

"Which is?"

"Security. Friendship."

Jennifer nods at the gemology book on the coffee table.

"You should go do it."

Lenise waves her hand. "We've been through that before."

"What's stopping you?"

"There's more to life than a career."

"But you want to."

Lenise gets up and puts the book in a drawer.

"Believe what you want," she says. "I'm happy with what I've got."

McKenzie walks through from the kitchen. "The oven timer just went off."

*

Jennifer tries to make an effort, she really does, but the beef is tough and loaded with some spice she doesn't like, and she ends up pushing most of it around her plate and washing the little she can stomach down with more wine than is good for her. Lenise is talking about her life as a girl in South Africa, and how her mother taught her to make milk tart, the custardy mess Jennifer was now expected to consume.

She blinks and, to be polite, dips her spoon into the cinnamon-topped goop, brings it to her lips and swallows. She's about to take another spoonful, then pauses. All this strange tasting food. It would be so easy to do, wouldn't it? Slip something in undetected – drain cleaner, anti-freeze, leftover sedative. Then Lenise would have McKenzie all to herself, she could wear every blouse Jennifer had in her closet, sleep in her bed every night. On the stereo Paul Simon sings about fifty ways to leave your lover and Jennifer does a self-audit, assessing limbs, head and abdomen. But she's experiencing no unusual twinges or dizzy spells, apart from the effects of too much wine.

"What's wrong with your meal?" says Lenise. "Not to your taste? Maybe you need the doctor again."

Jennifer stands up and looks at McKenzie.

"We should go."

"But you haven't finished your dessert."

"Yeah, Mom, it's early."

"Do as you're told, McKenzie."

"But you're being rude."

Lenise pats McKenzie's arm. "Listen to your mother. She's not feeling well."

McKenzie shoots Jennifer a look then pushes past her to the front door. When she's gone, Jennifer says, "I think we should take a break."

"I need money," says Lenise.

"What?"

"I got behind on the rent."

"But you have a job now," says Jennifer.

"It doesn't pay that well. I should soon be progressing to another level though. Just $1000 to tide me over."

"A thousand dollars? You know Hank took everything," says Jennifer.

"There's still the business account."

Jennifer stares at her.

"I know what you're thinking," says Lenise. "But I would never say a word."

"Wouldn't you."

"It's not easy to ask, you know."

"Tomorrow," says Jennifer.

"Tomorrow will be fine."

37

Jennifer shields the number pad with her hand and punches in the pin. Every stab of her finger is a jab into Lenise's chest. Get. Out. Of. My. Life. Lenise and her growing list of demands. Lenise and her stupid milk tart. Lenise and her out of control hair and poor taste in clothes. Lenise and the annoying way she said "tiliphone" instead of "telephone" or "blake" instead of "black".

"You done yet?"

Standing behind Jennifer is some guy in a Rastafarian knitted cap. She wants to tell him white guys with dreads are try-hard, that maybe he should just keep his mouth shut, that she can take as long as she damn well pleases.

"Knock yourself out," she says, taking her money.

She buries her hands in the pockets of her winter coat and walks up the street and is back to thinking about Lenise and how she's becoming a bad influence on McKenzie and how last night there had been another screaming match with McKenzie about some inconsequential thing and McKenzie had called Jennifer a bitch and screamed "Stay out of my life!" before slamming the door right in Jennifer's face.

Jennifer knew she should rise above it. McKenzie was just a kid caught in the middle, but Jennifer had felt slighted, angry even, at McKenzie for taking Lenise's side, like a friend who starts hanging round with another friend and casually drops you for the more popular girl. God, how high school, how unbelievably petty, how team Jennifer, how team Lenise. What in the world was she becoming?

She rounds the corner and nearly collides with an executive type holding a tray of coffees and the guy curses at her and tells her to watch what's she doing but Jennifer doesn't say sorry, choosing instead to give the suit a wide birth, and continues on up the block toward the clinic, eyes tracking the toes of her boots, trying to keep her mind from returning to Lenise and her sad little life.

Then Jennifer steps off the curb and straight into the path of an oncoming car.

Everything's in slow-mo, even the screech of tires and burning rubber smell and the car rolling toward her with its just-in-time braking and the way the bumper kisses her knees.

Then it's still and quiet and not quite real. The engine ticks. People stare. She is made of stone.

Jennifer's respiratory system begins working again. Blood floods back in to her veins. People walk on. The driver gets out.

"You okay?"

"Just give me a minute," she says, head between her knees.

"You need to take better care, Ma'am. That was close."

It's the word Ma'am that makes her look, really look. She glances at the car. Sees the siren and the black and white paintwork. Then his uniform.

"You stepped out right in front of me."

There's a flash of anger there, the look of fear at what might have been.

"I'm sorry, officer."

She's shaking. He puts a hand on her shoulder.

"What's your name, ma'am?"

She laughs half-heartedly.

"You going to give me a ticket or something?"

He shakes his head. "You've had a scare. Want to take a seat in the patrol car for a second?"

"I'm fine," she pushes out a smile. "Really. I need to get back to work, actually."

She thanks him and dashes over the road, being sure to look both ways, not trusting herself to glance back over her shoulder, in case he's still there watching, or worse yet, following. She hurries across the car park, up the clinic steps and inside.

Rosemary stands up when she sees her.

"Don't ask," says Jennifer, ducking into her office.

She slaps cold water on her cheeks and presses paper towels to her forehead and looks in the mirror and is confronted with her ashen face. There's a knock.

"I need a minute, Rosemary."

But it isn't Rosemary.

"What happened to you?" says Lenise, nodding at the mud spatter on Jennifer's trousers.

"Forget about it."

"I thought we could have lunch."

"Lunch? It's a quarter after two, besides I have clients."

"I can wait."

"You want the money, is that it?" says Jennifer, digging angrily inside her purse.

Lenise sits down in Jennifer's chair.

"You're always in such a hurry these days," she says.

Jennifer stares at her, parked there like she's the chairman of the board.

"Lenise, didn't you hear me? I've got clients."

Lenise spins around to look out the window. "I've been thinking about what you said. About studying gemology. You really think I could do it? That I'm smart enough and not too old? I mean that would be something if I could go back to school."

Jennifer pauses, sees an opportunity.

"I think it would be good for you."

"You really believe I can do it?"

"You're not an idiot, Lenise. In fact, you're probably one of the shrewdest people I know."

Lenise pivots to face Jennifer.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I mean it."

"Well, thank you."

Lenise riffles through her bag and retrieves a print out. "There's a program in California. I would have to take a pre-course thing, but if I pass it would only be another year before I was qualified."

"You should go for it."

"It would mean moving away."

"I could help. With tuition. Give you something toward it."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure," says Jennifer.

The smile drops from Lenise's face. "You want to get rid of me."

"What?
No
. I'm trying to help you, like you helped me."

"I wasn't born yesterday, Jenny. It's written all over your face."

Lenise stands up, stuffs the pamphlet into her purse, takes the money from the desk.

"Forget I said anything," says Lenise, pausing at the door. "Besides why would I leave Wisconsin when I've got such a good friend in you."

38

Lenise slips off her shoes and rests her throbbing feet atop the ottoman. The shift at the grocery store was a long one and she smells like salami. She was better than this, better than being reduced to the Palgrave's Best Beef Jerky lady. It was an embarrassment. Needs must and all that, but for God's sake, handing out cubes of preserved meat in a supermarket was a bridge too far. There had to be a better life. She picks up the crumpled printouts on the gemology courses salvaged from the trash and thinks of Jennifer. No one had ever said they believed in her before.

There's a knock at the door and Lenise hauls her aching carcass out of the chair to answer it.

"Hey," says McKenzie.

Lenise looks past her shoulder. "Did your mother send you?"

"She's at work. The gallery, remember? You said you'd take me."

A street art exhibition. They had discussed it when Jennifer was sick.

"I completely forgot," says Lenise.

McKenzie shrugs. "It's okay if you don't want to."

Lenise thinks of her tender feet, the varicose vein throbbing on the back of her calf.

"I'll get my coat."

*

The gallery is located in a basement made up of painted white brick and exposed steel girders. Lenise pulls out her wallet to pay the guy with the lip ring but McKenzie stops her.

"Let me pay."

"What? No, I'll have none of that," says Lenise.

"Please. I want to do it, for bringing me here."

Lenise looks at her. "If you're sure."

"I am."

The exhibition is not to Lenise's tastes. It's all just graffiti to her. But it seems to mean something to McKenzie and the girl takes great care to study each and every work, going in close to scrutinize the detail and read the description then standing back to assess the overall impact. When they'd done the circuit twice, McKenzie pulls out her sketch paper and the pastels Lenise had bought her while Jennifer was sick.

"Would it be okay if I did a sketch?"

"Go ahead," says Lenise, taking a seat on the worn chaise lounge.

*

Lenise wakes up with a crick in her neck. Someone is shaking her. The guy with the lip ring.

"We're closing," he says.

It's dark outside and McKenzie is planted in front of a giant Andy Warhol type of thing, dozens of pages beside her. Lenise looks at her watch. It's after 7pm.

"Girl, why didn't you wake me? Look at the time."

McKenzie gathers her things.

"We need to hurry," says Lenise.

Lenise ushers McKenzie out of the building only to find her car's been clamped.

"For God's sake."

"Forget about her," says McKenzie. "She only cares about herself anyway."

"We'll have to catch the bus."

By the time they reach the bus stop, it's switched over to non-peak hours and it's 30 minutes before another one is due. McKenzie's phone buzzes.

"Is that her?" says Lenise.

McKenzie shrugs. "She keeps calling."

"You should answer."

"She'll only yell at me."

"At least send a message."

McKenzie types something.

"What did you say?"

"I told her to quit bugging me."

The phone buzzes again.

"What did she say now?" says Lenise.

"Nothing," says McKenzie, slipping the phone into her pocket.

They wait in silence, in the descending cold, until the bus arrives.

McKenzie selects a seat in the rear and stares out the window, the blissful expression she'd had in the gallery now gone. She touches the back of her neck, where her pretty hair has been hacked away, and Lenise tries to think of something profound to say.

"Have you ever seen
Fantasy Island
?"

McKenzie shakes her head.

"We used to get reruns in Jo'berg in the 80s. Saturdays at 6.30. Mr. Roarke and Tattoo. People would go to the island and pay Mr. Roarke thousands of dollars to make their fantasy come true, but there was always a lesson. Be careful what you wish for type of thing. It was a strange show but I liked it. I liked the justice behind it – how the person would see the error of their ways and leave the island a better human being, learn something about themselves. Life is full of lessons, some of them painful, and it's up to us not to let them break us but grow from them instead."

McKenzie turns away and looks out the window.

"Forget it," says Lenise. "It was rubbish, really. I think Tattoo ended up broke and alone."

"It's okay," says McKenzie. "I understand what you mean."

"Anytime you need someone to talk with, I'm here. Think of me as a friend, a confidant so to speak. You know what that means?"

"Yeah."

"What you tell me will stay between us. Your mother need never know."

*

The bus doesn't go all the way to Pine Ridge Road so they have to walk the last 15 minutes in the dark. When they round the corner, Jennifer is standing on her front doorstep.

"Where have you been?" she demands, doing the whole hands on her hips act which, to Lenise, appears a touch dramatic.

"Don't get hysterical," says Lenise.

Jennifer's jaw hardens. "I come home and my daughter's not here and it's dark out and you don't expect me to be concerned?"

"Sarcasm won't help, either," says Lenise.

Jennifer shakes her head in amazement. "Who in the hell do you think you are?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion," sniffs Lenise.

"Don't blame Lenise, I made her go," says McKenzie. "We went to look at an art exhibition, that's all."

"Why didn't you ask me to take you?" says Jennifer.

"You wouldn't have gone."

"You didn't even ask!"

"Really, Jenny, there's no need to shout," says Lenise.

"Shut up, Lenise."

"Mom, I told you already, it's not her fault," implores McKenzie.

"Go to your room," says Jennifer.

"No."

"Do as I say."

"Stop trying to control my life!" McKenzie bursts into tears and runs up the stairs.

"Well, I hope you're happy," says Lenise. "You know the pressure she's been under."

"Why are you still here, Lenise?"

"Someone has to say something."

"I think I know what's best for my own daughter."

Lenise almost laughs. "Oh, do you?"

"Watch my lips, Lenise – stay away from us, don't come anywhere near this house, or McKenzie's school or my clinic. Get on with your own life and stop trying to hijack mine."

Then Jennifer slams the door right in Lenise's face.