Chapter Nine

January 17, 2017

The Cascade City Chronicle

“Local Quilter Maurine Gunther Wins Quilters of America National Prize”

Carmen scooched herself into a sitting position against the wall. The neon green numbers on the clock glowed in the dark—five twelve a.m. The embarrassment from the incident with Julia sat in her gut like a hot stone, burning, burning. Once again, Papa Percy played the master puppeteer—said no to getting a job—that he didn’t trust her—that he had ways to keep her in line. It would be college, home, and nowhere else. If she disobeyed, she and Mami would end up in Mexico, where someone, or a group of someones, wanted Mami dead. She wondered how much of the story was true—that Mami and Papi saw someone get killed—someone so important that the gang killed Papi to silence him and was still looking for Mami to do the same.

Her old diary might hold clues. She wrote all kinds of things in there.

Sixth Grade

May 28, 2009

Dear Monica,

You’ve probably been wondering where Ive been. Well, I’ve been here all along but to sad to write. School is almost out and Jake Dixon wont talk to me anymore. I went to his house so we could do homework (in secret because Papa Percy would blow a gasket if he found out). Jake needs lots of help cuz he sees things backwards. His mom said hes to young to have a girlfrend but I am eleven and Jake is almost twelve. Lots of kids our age date each other. Its not like were going to make out or anything but I think about it sometimes!!! Would I keep my eyes open if he kissed me? Would I turn my head a little before the kiss? I wouldn’t want our noses to hit. What if he stuck his tongue in my mouth? Gross. Gabby said she likes it and Joey Antonetti has a long tongue. Anyways Jakes mom doesn’t like me. When she saw me at school she gave Jake the scary mom eyes. What did Jake do wrong? Or did I mess up? I said hello and how do you do. I need to wear cuter clothes. Jakes mom probably thought I dress like something the cat dragged in. Papa Percy says no when I ask for something so I dont ask for new clothes. Kids at school see my blue lunch card for poor kids and its so embarassing. Miss Montgomery says I am lucky to live in America but I was born here. Mami taut me a new song yesterday. She said its an old one called La Malagenya and its hard to sing but I dont mind. Anything I do with Mami is the best thing I do all day. We’ll keep practicing because I don’t have it memorized yet.

Anyways, after I got to Jake’s house his Mom told me to go home.

****

January 17, 2017— continued

Julia glanced at the printer paper she hung on the refrigerator door.

“I have to stick to the program if I’m going to keep my head on straight,” she told Charlie, pointing to the “Sanity Saver Schedule.”

Six o’clock a.m.—get up

Six o-five a.m.—shower

Six twenty a.m.—get dressed (clothes laid out the night before)

Six twenty-five—make coffee

Six thirty a.m.—feed & dress Trey, *stock baby bag for daycare, move the bag to the front door, don’t forget to move the baby bag

Five-minute cushion

Seven o’clock a.m.—leave for work

Seven fifteen a.m.—daycare drop-off

Seven thirty-five a.m.—walk the call center floor, greet CSRs

*two changes of clothes, two bottles, six bottle liners, two bibs, baby socks, booties, diaper cream, onesies, one short-sleeve and one long-sleeve, light blanket, burp cloth, diaper pad, six diapers, the puffy jacket that makes Trey look like a twelve-pound blue marshmallow, hat, four nursing pads, pkg diaper wipes, pkg baby booger wipes

“Jerry says you can plan for eighty percent of your life, and shit’s just gonna happen for the other twenty.”

“You agree with that?” Charlie asked.

“No way, José. Some people live on the fly. I plan, I use checklists, and I get shit done. “

“Good for you.” Charlie kissed the tip of her nose. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“Not since yesterday.”

“How remiss of me.” Charlie lifted her hair and kissed her neck. “I love you.” He opened a hall door and bounced down the steps toward the basement garage.

She trotted after him. “I love you, too,” she shouted into the stairwell. Charlie honked his car horn twice in response.

The “shit’s just gonna happen” portion of her day started soon after he left.

Not part of the program: kitchen cabinet, barren of coffee

Not part of the program: an espresso stand stop (eight minutes)

Not part of the program: niggling feeling that something got left behind

Not part of the program: baby bag not in fucking car

Not part of the program: a drive home to retrieve stupid effing baby bag

Not part of the program: run through the house to get the piece of shit stupid ass baby bag

Not part of the program: a return to the car with Trey sitting in greenish-brown poop slime, which shot out his ass and onto the car seat in the twenty seconds she was gone.

“Jerry had it right. Shit’s gonna happen,” she mumbled as she pulled off Trey’s poopy clothes, spreading rotting avocado-colored, ghastly-smelling goo all over the changing table pad, up his back, and in his hair. She gagged and dropped the tiny jeans and red T-shirt into the garbage and took the poop-proliferator into the bathroom to wash him up.

Not part of the program.

****

She made it through the employee entrance at eight o-two a.m., irritated as all get out. “Twenty-seven minutes off schedule,” she grumbled as she made her way to the water cooler. Her mind wandered, which it did more and more often. The “forgetful baby brain” she had when she was pregnant hadn’t gotten the memo that the baby had exited the premises.

She stewed about leaving Trey with caregivers who had other babies to care for, one teacher to every four babies.

He’ll never get the personal attention that he deserves.

He could cry without anyone to pick him up because some other baby cries first.

He could have a wet diaper with no one to change him because one lady is on a break, and the second one’s wiping poop slime off another little stinker.

Would Trey be better off at an in-home daycare with one caregiver?

But what if that singular caregiver turns out to be a couch potato who watches soap operas while Trey eats a watch battery?

What if a delivery guy steps on Trey while carrying a heavy object into the house?

Or drops a washing machine on him?

Or if the family dog, the victim of a rabid squirrel attack, bites him? Gah!

A million things could go wrong at an in-home daycare. There’d be no one else but the couch potato to keep a watchful eye on my precious little one—the one I thought I wanted, the one who came from Charlie’s and my undying love for one another, or at least our horndog urges the day my egg dropped at the same time his sperm, like a heat-seeking missile, found its target. I’m pretty sure it was the day we drove up to Mount Rainier and pulled off the road to have a fu…

Water spilled over the top of her water bottle and splashed on her foot. “Hell’s bells.” She yanked a long section of stiff brown paper towels from the dispenser.

“Nice move, my little cucaracha.” Carlton stood in the doorway wearing brown pants riding below his belly, a wrinkled long-sleeved yellow shirt, and a paisley polyester tie that landed above his navel. “Clean that up and come into my office.”

“Do you even know what cucaracha means?”

“Of course not.”

“It means cockroach, you cockroach,” she said.

****

Carlton leaned back in his squeaky office chair. A mummified African violet and a carton of cigarettes sat on the file cabinet. A candy wrapper and an empty potato chip bag peeked out between old newspapers spread topsy-turvy across his desk.

“Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, or your ass is grass. You promise?” The corners of his mouth turned upward like a sneaky cat with some furry thing between its jaws.

“Well, I don’t want a grassy ass, so…”

“The Kellers are looking to sell The Chronicle to Troy Media. Newspapers can’t turn a buck these days with the internet, the radio stations, and damn near everyone stealing newspaper content without paying a dime. And ad revenue’s shrunk by seventy percent. If and when the Kellers sell, and I think they will, the call center’s going somewhere labor’s cheap, like Mumbai or the Philippines.”

Jerry was right. Again.

Carlton reached for a pack of cigarettes. “All the papers are doing it—outsourcing the unskilled workers. The papers that are left anyway.”

“And? Are you telling them why they should keep us? Our budget is tiny compared to other departments. We’re the public relations department without the public relations pay. And CSRs are not unskilled. Good customer service takes skills. It takes a high emotional intelligence many of our executives don’t have.”

Carlton wiggled his finger in his ear to satisfy an itch.

“Say something,” Julia said. “Aren’t you upset about this situation?”

“You see now why I wanted you back at work? Someone’s gotta do all the laying off and move the work overseas. It’s not gonna affect me. Me and Bessie have discussed it. Why should I hang around for the carnage? It’s time to retire.”

Poor Bessie. She married a guy with the last name Cressey. Bessie Cressey. And the guy was Carlton, who smelled of butt crack.

“Listen up, Julia. Some senior managers are going to Killian’s this Friday at six o’clock. Wanna join us? We can talk more about it then, but you need to loosen up first.”

“Trey’s at daycare all day, and I don’t want to miss more time with him.” Julia felt a headache coming on. He’s retiring, and when I finally have a chance for promotion, the Kellers sell the paper.

“Oh, right, the ankle-biter. Don’t let the kid ruin your career, my little jal-uh-peeno. Between your position and mine, mine is the only one they’ll keep. Someone’s gotta manage the contractor in Manila or wherever. You’re gonna have to keep distractions to a minimum if you wanna get ahead. And try wearing a V-neck, for God’s sake. Cleavage matters in the hiring game.”

“Don’t associate the ankle-biter with my career. And leave my cleavage out of it. Plus, who says women can’t do both? They do it all the time. I’m doing it now.” Badly. “Come on, Carlton. Make this your legacy. Don’t let them outsource us. Make sure they know how important we are—how much value we bring.”

“Correction. You let leadership know how important we are. I’m as good as gone.”

“I’ll cut the recognition budget and employee development. Office supplies. I can cut back on office supplies. Fuckity fuck.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Since you won’t help, should I go to Bob Keller directly?”

“Bennet Keller’s running the show now. Bob’s old as the hills.” He stuffed a cigarette between his lips. “You think you have my position in the bag, but don’t get ahead of yourself, Mamacita. They might keep you on long enough to lay all these people off, then show you the door. I suggest you prioritize getting your very fine derriere to Killian’s and schmooze with upper management. And smile. You’re too fucking serious.”

“How long before you retire?”

“Until my backfill starts; a month max. Me and Bessie got our first vacation to Palm Beach planned already. I heard they have a good disco scene there. You don’t know how good a dancer I am.”

“Ugh.”

****

Julia sat in her car and called Charlie. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, babe, call me when you get a chance. It’s not an emergency, and it’s not about Trey. Something’s up at work. Love you.”

Teaching took one hundred percent of Charlie’s attention, and he rarely answered calls, ate lunch, or made it to the “adult/teacher bathroom” during school hours. The guy had a bladder the size of New Hampshire.

She went inside and found Kelvin in the hall on his way back to the call center.

“Carmen’s here,” he said.

“Oh, Lord. This’ll be interesting. Where is she now?”

“In the conference room next to payroll. I’m on my way now.”

****

One of the flickering fluorescent tube lights emitted a low-level buzzing sound, a warning that it was about to burn out. She’d add it to her long “Shit To Do” checklist. Carmen and Kelvin sat at a round table, Kelvin with a laptop and Carmen with an open three-ring binder, two highlighter pens, and a mechanical pencil.

“Good afternoon. How’s it going in here?” Julia asked.

“We’ve been at it for an hour or so,” Kelvin replied. “I’ll take Carmen to the cafeteria for a break soon, and then we’ll tour the buildin’, includin’ the loadin’ dock and the pressroom.” He turned to Carmen. “Sound good?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, watching Kelvin with big eyes and a slightly parted mouth. Julia recognized “the look.” Most women couldn’t help but notice him. Even the guys looked twice. At six feet four inches with broad shoulders, camel hump biceps, narrow hips, a sweet Southern drawl, and a gentleman’s manner any mother would love, who wouldn’t?

“Kelvin, when you get back, have Carmen stop by my desk. We need to chat.”

“Fine and dandy. Carmen, ya wanna take that break now? I wouldn’t mind a bit to eat myself. We can take it slow,” he said. “Or do ya want me to getcha somethin’ from downstairs and bring it back?” He chuckled. “I’d carry ya, but there’s probably some safety policy against that.”

Julia watched them walk away; only Carmen didn’t walk so much as limp.

****

Carmen sat next to Julia’s desk with a carton of orange juice in her hand. She signaled toward a spot on the desk. “May I set it there?”

“Let me put something down first,” Julia replied, reaching for a coaster she kept in a drawer. “Here you go.” She set it square with the desk’s edge. “Welcome to The Chronicle, Carmen. Given what happened yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again. You can imagine how—how unsettling your father’s behavior was.”

Carmen crossed and uncrossed her legs. “I apologize for Mr. Booth’s rudeness. He’s not my father.”

“Oh? You called him Papa Percy.”

Carmen shuddered. “A figure of speech.”

That’s a bizarre figure of speech. “I see. During your interview, you said you didn’t stay in touch with Percy Booth.” Julia waited. Carmen had some explaining to do. The background noise of CSRs carrying on conversations filled the silence. “After you left, I looked up his address and saw that it was the same as yours. You lied during the interview.”

“Please forgive me.” Carmen sipped her orange juice and then stared at the floor. “It’s an unusual arrangement with Mr. Booth, and I didn’t think it mattered where I live anyway. Please don’t fire me.”

“Where you live doesn’t matter, but lying on your application does, Carmen. You also didn’t show up on your first day of work or call. I could easily justify terminating you, but I will overlook it, okay? You’re on probation for the first six months, and I can let you go for any reason within that period without notifying the unión. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. I can’t lose this job. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Can I ask why you’re limping?”

Carmen opened her mouth as if to answer, then closed it again.

“I want to help, Carmen. That is if you want me to,” Julia continued.

“I missed a step at school. I must be the clumsiest person in the world.”