One
of those cheap, made-in-Taiwan fans whirred tiredly, moving a feeble
current of air around my dusty office. My small window was shut to
keep the flies out, but despite the precaution, four of them bumped
torpidly against it and one was trying to sneak into my can of Diet
Pepsi. I think they crawl through the cracks in the plank walls of
the building.
Even
though it's been years now, I can remember so many minute details of
that day.
Jesse
knocked at my half open door, causing me to look up, relived, from my
endless stack of paperwork. My job, both then and now, is to review
loan requests for the small company I work for, Kraals Nosh
Incorporated. Normally, it's really boring job, but in the past, I
would go with Jesse for inquiries, where we would go to people's
houses and talk about their unpaid loans. I tagged along because it
was a welcome break from my office chair.
This was the last day
I'd ever go on an inquiry.
“We have some people
holding out in the Cacti District,” Jesse told me. “Care to come
along, Eponine?” Jesse had been a loan collector for years. He's an
expert.
“Man, I'm glad you
asked!” I said, surging out of my chair with some difficulty. I had
been reading convoluted formal papers and receipts for hours and was
ready for a break.
Then
I remembered Enkai and Anemoni. They were four and eight at the time.
“Will we get back before three?” I asked Jesse. “I'd like to
get home before my kids.”
“I doubt this'll
take an hour,” Jesse reassured me, putting on a pair of sunglasses
before stepping outside into the blistering California sunlight. We
headed over to Jesse's old red Toyota pickup. I swept a few empty
cans of Arizona tea off of the passenger seat and wedged myself into
the cab.
The
Cacti District was about fifteen minutes away. It was a housing
development that never really took off, out by the old deserted
Walmart, and the closest part of town to the biotechnology lab. I
don't think anyone lives there anymore. It wasn't thriving, even back
then.
Jesse and I hopped out
of the pickup, both of our company t-shirts soaked with sweat. It was
an abnormally hot day. I headed straight for the outdated tan
trailerhouse we had come to visit, but I only got a few feet before
Jesse yelled, “Eponine, hey! You forgot your vest.”
I sighed the same sigh
that Anemoni gives me when I tell her to pick up her My Little Ponies
– loud, dramatic, and highly immature. The vest was the one thing I
disliked – okay, despised – about the inquiries. Slowly, I
plodded back.
“Now I know you
don't like it,” Jesse chided me like a caring parent, “but safety
is very important, Eponine.” Sweat was dripping from his curly
brown hair into his eyes, yet he was wearing his heavy, bulletproof
vest and holding another one patiently out to me. That guy was
dedicated to his job.
I
squished my arms into the too-small holes of the vest, then tried to
buckle the black, sweltering, nasty thing in front of me, but it
refused to fasten over my belly. I worked at it for at least five
minutes, feeling extremely self-conscious.
Finally, Jesse said,
“I don't think it's going to fit today. Why don't you sit this one
out? I'll turn the air conditioning way up in the truck.”
“No, I'll just leave
it unstrapped,” I answered stubbornly. “If someone pulls out a
gun, I'll be running anyway. I just need to have my back covered,”
I laughed. Jesse frowned, but allowed me to walk to the screen door
with him.
“Kraals Nosh
Incorporated,” Jesse announced clearly, and knocked politely but
firmly. “We would like to speak with you about a loan.”
The door opened
promptly, which was a first in my limited experience. People were
usually not eager to talk about unpaid loans, and most of the time,
our clients would pretend not to be home. The man framed in the
doorway was thin and slightly balding, with thick glasses. I could
hear a barely-operating air conditioner going full-blast inside.
The man smiled
apologetically. “Hello, I'm glad you got in touch with me. I tried
calling your offices earlier today, but nobody was answering the
phone. Would you like to come in? I have lemonade. Did you hear? They
say it's supposed to be one hundred-thirteen today...” The man's
voice faded as he vanished into the decrepit trailer.
Jesse and I exchanged
surprised glances. This guy wasn't like our normal clientele. He
wasn't acting furtive or defensive at all, which seemed to make Jesse
nervous. He hesitated for a moment outside the door.
“It's hot,” I
whined, and walked inside.
“Sorry about the
mess,” the guy called as Jesse shut the door behind us. It took a
minute for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, I took a startled
step back. The houses we visited were never in pristine condition,
but this was positively vile. You'd have to burn it down and rebuild
it to get it clean. Sticky food wrappers were strewn around, along
with large pieces of randomly placed, decaying furniture. The place
reeked of mold, cigarettes, and cat urine.
“Please, sit
wherever you'd like,” the guy said as he returned, carrying two
Dixie cups of lemonade.
“We'll only be a
moment,” I said quickly, giving the couch a distrustful glance.
“We're here to talk
about an overdue loan,” Jesse said, holding out a sheet of paper.
“It's been four months since you last made a payment on your loan,
which comes to $8,974.64, not including interest, Mr. Jones.”
“That's what I
wanted to talk to you about,” Mr. Jones smiled sincerely. “I have
been working a part-time job – I've applied for a second – and my
wife, Heidi, is looking for work, but with her poor health, and all
of our credit card debt, and our little girl, and the economy...”
Little did Mr. Jones know that Jesse and I had heard this story –
with variations – hundreds of times. Usually, it was the truth. He
finished in the expected way : “...we just need a little more time
to sort things out. Just one more month... or so.”
“Our company wants
you to get out of debt as much as you do,” Jesse answered, “but
it has been a really long time since you sent any money. Maybe try to
set a little aside each week -”
“Honey?” A
strained, nervous voice creaked from the dark, sordid depths of the
trailer. "Who is it, hon?"
"Just the loan
people, sweetie. You can go back to bed." Mr. Jones smiled
tightly. "My wife has a medical condition," he told Jesse
and I, "it's the main reason she hasn't found a job yet."
"Loan...
people...?" The female voice sounded stronger now, more
malevolent.
"Sweetie, really,
you should get back to bed." Mr. Jones edged toward the narrow,
windowless hallway. Though it was one hundred-thirteen out, I felt
cold seep through my body when I heard stumbling steps nearing the
living room.
When Mrs. Jones
entered the room, the gun was not the first thing I noticed. She had
wavy, gray-brown hair tied into a messy bun, and her gaunt face was
tense and irrationally angry. It was only when she raised her arm
that I noticed she was holding a 9mm, and it was pointined straight
at me.
"Heidi, just-"
Mr. Jones spoke calmly and firmly, but as she tightened her grip on
the trigger, he shouted, "No!" and lunged at her.
It was a terrible
mistake on his part, but fortunate for me. The gun went off – BAM!
- spackling the close room with bits of Mr. Jones' shoulder.
After the shot there
was a moment of silence as we all stood there, eardrums burning from
the report. I dropped my cup. It rolled around on the floor, spewing
lemonade, the cool, refreshing beverage mixing with the hot blood
from Mr. Jones' injury.
After a moment, Mrs.
Jones threw the gun across the living room and retired to her
bedroom. Mr. Jones whimpered for a moment on the floor, staring at
his wound in shock, then fainted.
I turned to Jesse,
numb with the shock of what I'd just seen. "We need to call the
hospital," I finally gasped.
"I'm on it,"
Jesse agreed, and headed to the kitchen for the phone. I was trying
to stop the bleeding with a dirty bath towel when the front door
opened.
"Mom...? Dad!"
A little girl stood in the doorway, holding a Hello Kitty backpack.
She stared into the room, but didn't move toward Mr. Jones.
Jesse returned from
the kitchen and took a turn watching the injured man while I called
Child Services, then I led the little girl out to the porch. We sat
there and waited. It was way past three o'clock. I hoped Enkai and
Anemoni would be okay all by themselves. This wasn't one of the
scenarios I had considered when I decided to become a single mother.
I had never thought, what will I do if I can't cook supper because
I'm trying to save a man from bleeding to death, attempting to
comfort his daughter, and simultaneously praying his wife doesn't
come out of that bedroom with another weapon?
The ambulance arrived,
followed by several cop cars and a fire engine. They always bring the
fire engine along, even when there isn't a fire, which strikes me as
odd every time.
The sun was setting
when Jesse and I finally got out of that place. It was five when I
finally dragged myself up our front steps, exhausted from the spent
adrenaline rush. I opened our screen door.
Anemoni was sitting at
the table, crying. There were potatoes splattered all over the table
and part of the wall, and Enkai looked close to tears himself. I
noticed that although I remembered him leaving for school with bangs,
the front of his hair was now cropped close to his head.
“Well,” I said,
smiling wanly, “what have you two been up to?”
“I tried to cook
mashed potatoes but they aren't like yours, they're all sloppy, and
Amenomi won't eat them, and she won't stop crying and we didn't know
where you were, and I caught my hair in the mixer and had to cut a
lot of it off, and-”
I hugged both of them.
“It's okay. I guess we all had a rough day.”
“What happened at
work?” Enkai asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I
answered quickly. “Just kind of hectic. I love you guys.”
~*
