Great Escape
The Morning the Sign Fell
The taxi driver knocked the sign down. He had been dropping Cordelia King off at home when he drove past her house and tried to back up his cab. He accidentally drove up on the curb and ran right into the sign. Cordelia was in the back seat at the time, preoccupied with thoughts of how drastically her life had been shifting when she was startled by the loud thump and the drivers scream.
“Oh Shit,” he screamed, “I hit the sign.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes, got out the taxi and followed the driver to the back of the cab. He stood with his hands in his pockets, drops of sweat formed on his forehead as he glanced in a nonchalant manner between his bumper and the sign, “ah!” he ticked with his heavy accent, “who puts a sign next to a driveway? I didn’t even see it,” he exclaimed.
The sign outside of Cordelia’s house had been in an odd spot, right at the edge of the drive way. It read ‘Hearing Impaired,” and Cordelia wondered, as she usually did whenever she considered the big yellow obstruction, who the hearing-impaired person was on her street. She had never seen this mysterious person.
“Well there’s no damage,” Cordelia replied, surprised the driver didn’t just leave.
He shrugged his shoulders again and looked up at Cordelia. She turned away, glanced around at the street, it was early in the morning and no another soul was outside. It was the start of the school year, most of the kids had already boarded the bus and their parents were off to work.
“I won’t mention you to the cops,” Cordelia said with assurance.
The driver glanced into the distance with ease, as if he was considering Cordelia’s words. She didn’t wait on his response, she started up the driveway.
“Okay,” he said, and he followed Cordelia part-way, “here’s my information.”
Cordelia turned around with a blank stare. She took the card without so much as a glance at the thin paper and after she gave a halfhearted smile, she made her way across the driveway and up the steps. She held her head up, avoided looking down at the black asphalt, it had cracked in so many places and needed repair, but the driveway, or the house were no longer her problem. Her foreclosure had already been settled and her family was given six-months to vacate the premises before the sheriff’s locked them out.
Brandi, Cordelia’s daughter and her two grand-kids had already settled in an apartment. They moved with Brandi’s boyfriend, Abdul. With them gone it was just Cordelia and Jonas and they had found an apartment of their own. It was in the same apartment complex as Brandi and the kids, close enough to help them, far enough for peace of mind.
It had taken Jonas and Cordelia four months to save their security deposit, but they accomplished that goal ahead of schedule. They had enough for the apartment and they made the appointment to sign the lease, but as Cordelia made her way into the house, she wondered if Jonas was going to renege on that arrangement. She’d tracked him to his old girlfriend’s apartment and when she called him, to tell him off, he didn’t answer. When they learned they would have to move, Cordelia had given Jonas every indication, that she wouldn’t be angry if he went back to Nicolette Johnson, but he promised her would never go back to that woman. Cordelia believed he never would—until that morning.
Cordelia walked inside the house to the smell of blown-out matches, he hadn’t been gone long. She tossed her bag down on the sofa and glanced at her phone, Jonas was still at Nicolette’s apartment. Cordelia chuckled, to keep from crying. Then she put her chin up and popped her lips.
In the living room there was the constant reminder their days were numbered: boxes flooded the hall,, lined the steps, the closet doors were opened revealing they were empty and in the kitchen the doors and cabinets were bare. She walked into the kitchen and tried to erase every thought she had about Jonas, but she couldn’t. She refused to pray for her relationship, so she dealt with the pain that burned the lining of her stomach. Most of the pots and pans were boxed up, a skillet and a rice pot sat on the stove. Jonas’s charger was plugged into the wall outlet, his cereal bowl was in the sink and next to it was a pack of chicken he’d taken out the freezer for dinner.
He was coming back. Her belly muscles relaxed. Hopeful, Cordelia went upstairs. The bedroom was exactly the same, his things were in the same place, the old nike boxes that held his many sneakers were packed and ready to go, on his night stand sat his jar that was filled with weed, and a blunt sat in the astray, begging to be smoked.
He wasn’t gone, that was for sure. Relieved, Cordelia sat on the bed, crossed her legs and lit the blunt. She inhaled and felt her body as it relaxed. For a second she felt as if order had been restored, but Jonas would have to pay. She picked up the phone and dialed the police. Between thoughts of what she would tell the cops, she replayed the way she was going tell Jonas off. First, she was going to let him know, he was busted! Then she intended on asking him to leave—go back to the projects, even though she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
She listened as the phone rang and watched the cloud of smoke drift about, “Good Morning,” she said when the dispatcher answered the line. “I’m calling to report someone knocked the street sign down in front of my driveway.”
“Say again,” the voice on the other line said.
Cordelia said, “I heard a loud thump and came outside to find the sign outside on the ground.” She went on to explain to the dispatcher, that she never saw a car and she pulled the sign out the road herself. They told her an officer would come out and take a report.
After she hung up, Cordelia dialed Jonas again, his phone went directly to voice mail. She tried to locate his phone but it didn’t update. She tossed her phone. Leaned back. When she started to zone a thought crept slowly into her mind, she got up and walked across the floor to Jonas’s dresser, she grabbed the pile of mail that he hoarded and started to search for two letters. He had received them in the mail—two checks—two fake checks. The day before he had came downstairs to help her pack, with the letters.
She had been packing the living room closet when he walked on tipped toes into the living room, “Delia,” he sang, in his I need you voice. “Can you deposit these checks? We can use the money we have in the bank to buy new furniture.”
“Use the security deposit?” She asked with a quizzical expression on her face.
Jonas had a way of pretending to be calm, until he exploded. He shrugged his shoulders in a cool manner, as if he were asking her to cash an IRS check, “Yes we can write a check for the security deposit—they take checks.” He strutted across the living room and picked up a box as if he had solved a great issue.
Cordelia was silent for a moment. She couldn’t explain why she even took the time to examine the checks. As she examined them her face shifted from a blank stare to outright confusion. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, “this is a joke, right. You’re kidding?” She asked without waiting for his response, “you want us to put these two checks in the bank and use the money we already have saved-up for the security deposit to buy furniture?”
“Yeah,” Jonas said, he tossed the box on the floor next to the closet and turned around with his hands in his pocket.
Cordelia glanced at the checks again. They totaled $8,000. She chuckled and let the slight feeling of temptation pass through her mind. The checks could have been a blessing in disguise. If they had been real. “Jonas, these checks are not going to clear, they’re fake,” she said.
“I don’t think so, Delia,” He said, he was serious.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. Irritated she asked, “where did you get them from, Jonas?”
“I applied for a personal loan online. You know technology these days—”
“And they approved you for two unsecured loans with your credit?” Cordelia’s face was frowned, and she felt as if her mother’s words were falling out of her mouth, as she gazed at him with slanted eyes.
“Yes. Now what--” he said with attitude. “Can’t you deposit the checks in the bank. We need furniture,” he said a second time, repeating himself.
“No! We can’t do that Jonas,” she snapped.
Jonas had enough. He kicked the box and waved his arms around and stomped his feet, “that’s what I’m talking about,” he walked across the room and calmly took the checks out of Cordelia’s hands, “Every time! He wounded himself up. Every time—I have an idea you shut it down. You shut me down—every time.” He said. He forgot all about packing and stormed up the steps cursing beneath his breath.
That was the end of the discussion. Cordelia thought he understood, even though he refused to speak to her all night, unless he mentioned something generic. He didn’t speak the next day when he dropped off at the train station, except to say he had a doctor’s appointment, “you have to take a taxi home,” he said when he departed.
~~~~~~
Moving Day
Cordelia spent the rest of the evening in the living room next to the window. She had a habit of rocking back and forth, and she sat between the sofa and the chair, rocking and waiting for Jonas to come home. Whenever she heard a vehicle, she moved the curtain and stared as bright lights crept up the street and disappeared. At 11 o’clock she gave up and went to bed.
She didn’t fall asleep right away. She flipped on her back and on her side, she sat up and stared into the darkness, tried to count sheep but nothing brought on the sleepiness of night, except another blunt. She rolled one and poured herself a glass of vodka. She smoked in the dark. Toasted to Jonas and she swallowed the drink, that was mostly vodka with a little orange juice for color, then she waited for the burn in her throat and her stomach. It wasn’t long after, that she finally fell into a deep sleep and she didn’t wake until she heard his voice.
“Delia,” Jonas whispered. She opened her eyes and gazed at him, “get up,” he said. He had a pleasant tone, as if he hadn’t stayed out all night long with his ex-girlfriend, Cordelia didn’t respond, she just turned and faced the window. She was relieved to see him, but, squeezed her stomach to stop the flutter of butterflies that made attempts to coagulate. Beneath the blind she could tell it was a bright day, “get outta here, Jonas.” She said.
“We’re getting outta here--” he said with certainty.
The bass in his tone caught her attention and with wonder she turned around. She had fallen asleep in her work clothes and her white shirt was stiff and wrinkled and uncomfortable.
Jones turned the light on and when he walked back to the bed, he said in a flirtatious tone, “I called the guy about the apartment and he gave me the keys last night,” he held up a set of silver keys and he had a cunning smile on his face, as he jiggled them from side to side before Cordelia’s face.
Cordelia sat straight up. As much as she wanted to be mad at him, all the emotion, the hurt and pain subsided with the sight of those keys. When he put them in reach of her grip, her eyes followed them back and forth and when they were close enough she gently took them out his hand and smiled.
“Remember the checks?” He asked.
“Of course,” she said. She glanced from the keys to Jonas, “I remember the checks. Don’t tell me Nicollete cashed them for you?” She said, suddenly remembering Nicolette had worked in the center of town at a check-cashing joint.
“How did you know?” Jonas asked and he hesitated.
“You know I tracked you?”
“She didn’t cash the checks, one of her friends who works with her cashed them for me.”
“You going back to her?”
Jonas gave Cordelia a crazy look, “If I was going back to her, why would I come home.” he said with assurance.
Cordelia curled her brows and twisted her lips. She stared at Jonas without saying a word, then she got up and started packing the bedroom closet. Jonas started packing too and as he packed he explained to her, with only necessary detail, how Nicolette’s friend was leaving the state and how she had owned Nicolette a favor and therefore cashed the checks. Cordelia’s stomach formed in a knot as she listened. She didn’t want to be an accomplish to his insanity, but here she was grateful he got away with the cash, “you paid her?” she asked.
Jonas shrugged his shoulders, “Can’t get nothing for free,” he said, and he carried a pile of jeans in his arms and dropped them on the bed. “I gave them both a hundred,” then he dug into his pocket and dropped a wad of cash next to the jeans, “here’s the rest of money.”
Cordelia stopped what she was doing and stared at the cash spread on the bed. There were twenty, fifties and hundreds, she held up the bills to make sure they were real, her eyes opened wide as she examined them, she wanted to jump for joy, but she couldn’t.
“That money is dirty,”
“We can make it clean—”
“What if they find out the checks were fake?”
“Who?”
“The owners—the police”
“They won’t,” he gazed into Cordelia’s eyes and acted nonchalant. “Besides, my name wasn’t on the checks, they were made out to Jonas King and that girl cashed them. I never set foot into the check cashing place.”
Cordelia had been putting her work dresses into garment bags, but, she stopped and counted the cash. Then she put the cash in neat piles according to purpose: the electric bill, the cable and the gas. She gazed from Jonas back to the cash and shook her head in disbelief.
He said, “by the time they figure all that out, we should be long gone,” triumph in his tone.. “They won’t know where we moved and it’s not like were forwarding our mail.”
“Won’t she know where you’re moving too?” Cordelia asked.
“She don’t know where I live,” Jonas snapped, “and she doesn’t know I’m moving.”
Cordelia made every attempt to conceal her excitement, but she was so grateful that they were really moving and had money, it was impossible for her not to smile. She beamed and glanced around, grateful they could leave everything behind, except for their clothes and the pots and pans. Satisfied, she started to window shop, “It would be nice to have a new leather living room set,” she said.
“Yup and a big screen television,” Jonas added.
“For sure,” Cordelia said with enthusiasm, “we should put $500 up for the kids Christmas,” she said and she counted out $500 and put it into a pile.
Jonas agreed, “we can splurge a little and get the NBA League Pass.”
“Oh yes, that would be nice,” Cordelia said. She loved basketball and she was about to say, they could invite her sisters and their husbands over to watch the games—but her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door.
They hesitated. A second knock came, louder than the first. Cordelia and Jonas stared at one another without saying a word, aware early morning knocks usually brought bad news. Another knock, she jumped to her feet. Jonas stood stone still. Cordelia went to the window. Their neighbor was warming up the car and in the distance she saw children walking to the bus stop. A U-Haul was in the driveway and behind it a police car.
“You gotta U-Haul?” She asked not mentioning the police.
He started, “Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you—Brandi and Abdul help me get it last night.”
“Well, the cops behind the U-Haul,” she said with her brow raised.
Jonas tipped toed to the window, moved the curtain and peeped out with caution. After a few minutes he turned back around and stared at Cordelia. Cordelia stood with a disappointed gaze on her face. In the back of her mind were the words: I told you so, but instead of saying them, she remained silent.
“They found out, already?” He said, upset.
“How long do you think it takes, Jonas—that was eight-thousand dollars,” Cordelia said. Her tone was harsh, but measured, she glanced at the money with frustration, “Someone probably looked at those checks, realized they were fake and sent the police over here to get the money back.”
“We should act like we’re not home,” Jonas whispered. He had a habit of biting his finger nails, and he chewed on his middle finger as he paced back and forth between the bed and the window.
Cordelia tried to think of what to tell the police, but she drew a blank. Finally, she said, her voice nervous, but steady, “I’ll go talk to the cops. I’ll say you left a few weeks ago.”
Jonas agreed, and he followed her to the steps, but he stopped at the banister and watched as she slowly descended.
Cordelia reached the door and decided to compose herself, she didn’t want to appear nervous. Her heart beat heavy and her mouth was dry. She walked past the door and into the living room to formulate her thoughts. She still drew a blank. She stared at the wall of boxes that stood like a wall, with no idea of what lie she could tell to throw the police off the trail, and for some reason she was reminded of their first days in that house. She remembered how it smelled of glue and hot wood and how everything was new and fresh. Now the house smelled of destitution and desperation, age had settled into the walls and the floors, like the nasty, dirty carpet. She wanted more than anything to leave that place, have a nice place, with nice furniture and that money would have been their saving grace. But, they would have to give all that money back and hope Jonas won’t go to jail and she just wanted to cry.
There was no time for tears. Another knock came, so she went to the door and cracked it. The sun beamed inside, and a cool breeze accompanied with the aroma of new beginnings greeted her. It was a brisk September morning. The police officer lingered on the railing, but he stood at attention when she emerged. Cordelia smiled at the officer and although she was nervous, she felt as if she had stepped outside, right into tomorrow. With ease, she faced the officer.
“Someone called about the sign?” the police officer asked.
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