GREAT ESCAPE

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 driver’s frantic scream.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed. “I hit the sign!”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, got out of the taxi, and followed the driver to the back of the cab. He stood with his hands in his pockets, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he glanced between the bumper and the sign, his shoulders shrugging in a way that almost seemed rehearsed.

“Ah!” he said with a heavy accent, as if to excuse his error. “Who puts a sign next to a driveway? I didn’t even see it.”

The sign outside of Cordelia’s house had always been oddly placed, right at the edge of the driveway. It read, “Hearing Impaired,” and Cordelia wondered, as she usually did when she saw the yellow, glaring obstruction, who the hearing-impaired person was on her street. She had never seen this mysterious figure.

“Well, there’s no damage,” Cordelia replied, surprised the driver didn’t just drive off.

He shrugged again and looked up at her. He pushed the sign out if the street and Cordelia pretended to help touching the dark-green dotted meter. The driver touched Cordelia on the shoulder and then with a force he managed to pull the sign and set it out of the road.

Cordelia had stepped back and turned her gaze to the street. It was early in the morning—but most of the kids had already boarded the bus, and the parents were off to work.

“I won’t mention you to the cops,” Cordelia said, her voice firm, but there was a tired edge to it.

The driver looked into the distance as though he were weighing her words, then simply nodded. She didn’t wait for his answer, already stepping away toward the house.

“Okay,” he called out, following her partway. “Here’s my information.”

Cordelia glanced over her shoulder, giving him a blank stare, then took the card without really looking at it. She gave him a halfhearted smile before turning away and crossing the driveway.

She held her head up, avoiding the cracked asphalt that had seen better days. But the driveway—this house—was no longer her problem. The foreclosure had been finalized months ago, and her family had been given six months to vacate before the sheriff’s office would lock them out.

Brandi, her daughter, had already moved into an apartment with her two kids and her boyfriend, Abdul. It was close enough for Cordelia to help but far enough for a little peace of mind. With them gone, it was just Cordelia and Jonas now, and they had found an apartment of their own. They were starting over—again.

It had taken them four months to save up for the security deposit, but they had done it ahead of schedule. They had enough for the apartment and had an appointment to sign the lease. But as Cordelia made her way into the house, she couldn’t shake the nagging worry that Jonas might renege on their arrangement. She had tracked him to his old girlfriend’s apartment just the other day, and when she called him to confront him about it, he didn’t answer.

When they’d learned they would have to move, Cordelia had made it clear that she wouldn’t be angry if Jonas chose to go back to Nicolette Johnson. But Jonas had promised her he would never go back to that woman. She wanted to believe him, but deep down, Cordelia knew better. He wasn’t exactly known for keeping promises.

Cordelia walked into the house, greeted by the unmistakable smell of burnt matches. He hadn’t been gone long. She tossed her bag onto the sofa and checked her phone. Jonas was still at Nicolette’s apartment.

Cordelia let out a dry laugh, half in disbelief, half to stop herself from crying. She popped her lips and set her jaw, forcing herself to keep it together.

The living room was a mess of reminders that their time here was up: boxes filled the hall, piled high at the foot of the stairs, closet doors stood wide open, revealing empty shelves. In the kitchen, the cabinets were bare, nothing but a skillet and a rice pot sitting on the stove. Jonas’s charger plugged into the wall outlet, his cereal bowl sat half-dried in the sink, and next to it was the pack of chicken he had taken out of the freezer for dinner.

He was coming back. She could feel it in her gut, her muscles loosening, the tension melting away. Cordelia’s lips curved upward into the faintest smile.

She went upstairs. The bedroom was still the same. His things were in their usual places—old Nike boxes stacked high with sneakers, his jar of weed on the nightstand, and a blunt resting in the ashtray. It was all just waiting. Waiting for Jonas to come home.

Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs as she lit the blunt. The smoke spiraled in the air, a fleeting distraction from the burning frustration in her chest. For a brief moment, she thought things might settle—order restored, maybe—but deep down, she knew Jonas had to pay for what he’d done.

She picked up the phone with determination, her thoughts racing on how best to confront him. First, she’d confront him—let him know she’d caught him. Then, she’d kick him out. Back to the projects, even though she knew he’d never leave.

“Good morning,” she said into the phone when the dispatcher answered.

“Say again?” the dispatcher asked.

“Someone knocked the street sign down in front of my driveway,” she explained. “I didn’t see a car, but I heard a thump. I came out, and the sign was on the ground. I pulled it out of the road myself.”

They said an officer would come out to take a report, and Cordelia hung up, the phone buzzing in her hand. Her fingers hovered over the screen, calling Jonas again, but it went straight to voicemail. She tossed her phone onto the bed and stared out the window.

Her mind drifted, but then an unsettling thought crept in. She got up, crossed the room to Jonas’s dresser, and began rifling through the pile of mail. She knew exactly what she was looking for—two checks, two fake checks, from the day before.

Jonas had been so nonchalant when he brought them to her, asking her to deposit them into the bank. Use the money for new furniture, he’d said.

“Use the security deposit?” Cordelia had asked, brow furrowed.

He’d shrugged, pretending it was no big deal. “Yeah, write a check for the security deposit. They take checks.”

She stared at the checks again. Her heart sank into her stomach. There was $8,000 there. If these were real, she thought, we could make it work. But they weren’t real, and Jonas didn’t get it.

“Jonas,” she’d said, her voice flat. “These checks are fake.”

He didn’t listen. “They’re not, Delia,” he said with such confidence, it made her head spin.

She couldn’t believe it. “Where did you get these from?” she snapped.

He hesitated, but then shrugged it off. “Applied online. You know, technology.”

She stared at him, disbelief all over her face. “With your credit? They approved you for two unsecured loans?”

His attitude shifted, defensive. “Yeah, so what? Just deposit them! We need furniture.”

Her frustration flared. “No, Jonas. We can’t do that.”

He snapped. “That’s what I’m talking about!” He kicked the box, knocking it across the room. “Every time I have an idea, you shut it down. Every time!” He stormed upstairs, muttering curses under his breath.

Cordelia let out a long breath, the space between them growing more distant by the second. When Jonas dropped her off the next morning, there were no apologies, no explanations. Just a curt, “You’ll need a taxi home. I have a doctor’s appointment.”

She didn’t reply, just watched him go. The silence felt like the only truth between them now.

Moving Day

Cordelia spent the rest of the evening in the living room next to the window. She rocked back and forth between the sofa and the chair, 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 onto her back, then onto her side, and sat up, staring into the darkness. She 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, toasting to Jonas, and swallowed the drink, mostly vodka with a little orange juice for color. She waited for the burn in her throat and stomach. It wasn’t long before she fell into a deep sleep, not waking 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 with his ex-girlfriend. Cordelia didn’t respond. She just turned and faced the window. She was relieved to see him, but she squeezed her stomach to stop the flutter of butterflies trying 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. She turned around, her curiosity piqued. She had fallen asleep in her work clothes, and her white shirt was stiff and wrinkled and uncomfortable. Jonas turned on the light, and as he walked back to the bed, he said in a flirtatious tone, “I called the guy about the apartment. He gave me the keys last night.” He held up a set of silver keys and flashed a cunning smile as he jiggled them in front of her 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. When they were close enough, she gently took them from his hand and smiled.

“Remember the checks?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, glancing from the keys to Jonas. “I remember the checks. Don’t tell me Nicollete cashed them for you?” She suddenly remembered Nicolette worked in the center of town at a check-cashing joint.

“How did you know?” Jonas asked, hesitating.

“You know I tracked you,” she replied.

“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 her 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 got up and started packing the bedroom closet. Jonas started packing too. As he packed, he explained to her, with only the necessary details, how Nicolette’s friend was leaving the state and owed Nicolette a favor, so she cashed the checks. Cordelia’s stomach knotted as she listened. She didn’t want to be an accomplice to his insanity, but here she was, grateful he got away with the cash.

“You paid her?” she asked.

Jonas shrugged. “Can’t get nothing for free,” he said. 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 the money.”

Cordelia stopped what she was doing and stared at the cash spread on the bed. There were twenties, 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,” she said.

“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 her 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 organized it into neat piles: electric bill, cable, gas. She glanced from Jonas back to the cash and shook her head in disbelief.

By the time they figure all that out, we should be long gone,” Jonas said, triumph in his tone. “They won’t know where we moved, and it’s not like we’re 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 it was impossible. She beamed, glancing 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, counting out the money and setting it in 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 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 each other without speaking, aware that early morning knocks usually brought bad news. Another knock. She jumped to her feet. Jonas stood 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 got a U-Haul?” she asked, not mentioning the police.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you. Brandi and Abdul helped me get it last night.”

“Well, there’s a police car behind the U-Haul,” she said, her brow raised.

Jonas tiptoed to the window, moved the curtain, and peered out cautiously. After a few minutes, he turned back to Cordelia. She stood with a disappointed gaze on her face. In the back of her mind, the words I told you so echoed, 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 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 fingernails, 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 spoke, 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 heavily, and her mouth went 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 barrier, with no idea of what lie she could tell to throw the police off the trail. For some reason, she was reminded of their first days in that house. She remembered how it smelled of glue and hot wood, how everything was new and fresh. Now, the house smelled of destitution and desperation, age had settled into the walls and floors, like the nasty, dirty carpet. She wanted more than anything to leave that place, to have a nice home with nice furniture. That money would have been their saving grace. But now, they’d have to give it all back and hope Jonas wouldn’t go to jail. She just wanted to cry.

There was no time for tears. Another knock came, so she went to the door and cracked it open. The sun beamed inside, and a cool breeze, accompanied by the aroma of new beginnings, greeted her. It was a brisk September morning. The police officer lingered on the railing, but stood at attention when she emerged. Cordelia smiled at the officer, and although she was nervous, she felt as if she had stepped outside into tomorrow. With ease, she faced the officer.

“Someone called about the sign?” the officer asked.

High Speed Chase

Cordelia sat at a stop sign, blinded by a big bright sun that curtained the landscape with a golden gleam.  It was just as if the entire city was stretched before her and she felt as if she could reach out and scoop it up into her arms. But in that moment all she could do was sit there at that corner shivering. She trembled with joy. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear each thump.  She glanced through her rear-view mirror at the corner of the tiny block, waited with baited breath as a row of cars flashed by:  a white car, a tan SUV, a black car.   Her foot hoovered over the gas pedal, she was ready to accelerate at any moment, until she finally glimpsed the black tow truck as it rushed past the little block.   It was like something out of a movie.  He passed right by her.  There was no time for celebration, without another second to hesitate Cordelia turned the corner.  Jumped right in front of a gray SUV, waved her hand to apologize for the cut-off.   The next street, she made a left, then another right and headed in the opposite direction, when her phone rang.

“He’s still behind you?” Jonas was all the way hype.

“I lost him!” Cordelia shouted.  “I lost him.”  She said with a strong emphasis on lost.

“You lost him,” Jonas repeated, “Oh—okay.  Head to the woods, I’ll meet you there.”

“The kids okay?”

 “Yup,” Jonas answered before he dropped the line.

~~~~~~

That was a clear day in April. The first nice day of the season.  For Cordelia the day began on a peaceful front. She woke up to the smell of Lilly of the Valley drifting through the window and the sound of birds chirping outside. She went to the park and walked her 10k steps.   She reflected on how good she felt to be 50-years old and even talked to God about her journey. Refreshed and free she left the park feeling inspired. She went to work and had a productive day, only to get home and discover how easy the tranquility of life is disturbed.

She had driven her boyfriend, Jonas’ Ranger to work that morning, they had been hiding her Infiniti from the car company, so he drove it to work and back home. He had just pulled into the parking lot ahead of her and was getting out of the car with her grandkids. She parked so close to her slick, black ride, until she had to squeeze between the car and the truck to walk inside.  She still had some things to do for work, but Jonas often complained about always having to take care of the kids.

He got out of the car and ran for Cordelia, “Nana…”

“I know they’re my grandkids and I watch them all the time, but I’m not their father,” he said, as the kids rushed over and greeted Cordelia with hugs.

“I hope you have homework to keep you busy for a few hours because I have some work today.”

“I guess what I say doesn’t matter,” Jonas interjected as he headed up the steps and unlocked the door.

They all walked inside. The kids rushing in and heading straight to the kitchen.

“How was your day?” Cordelia asked. She didn’t address the grandkids situations because she knew what Jonas said was true. He was neither father or grandfather—at least not biologically, he loved this praise when it was given too him by family and friends, but when enough was enough he’d was happy to let you know. “I know but _____ is working overtime tonight and you know they need the money and we might need a loan.”

She said as they all gather inside of the foyer.

had came home because her grandkids were there. Their mother, ____ had just got a job as a nurse and had started working overnight.

was going to work from the garage that morning, instead of going into the office, so she walked in the front door and out the garage door carrying her laptop and her bags filled with accessories:  the computer plug, her head phone, her mouse and glasses.  She arranged the black card table and was just about to adjust her chair, so that the hot sun didn’t beam directly down on her, when a vehicle appeared in her peripheral view.  She stopped what she’d been doing and peered up over her reading glasses.  She looked directly ahead.  Cocked her head to the side and squinted her eyes.  It was a tow truck.  She remained calm.  Perhaps he was lost.  It wouldn’t be the first time a car stopped in front of their house, as the complex was a big circle and her street was on the one-way side coming in.  Many people who had been lost or who had missed a turn used her street to go around the they block. That wasn't the case this time, as the driver stopped and leaned over, he peered out the window and stared at her vehicle. 

Her Infiniti had been on a lease, the contract date was up, and the finance company was looking for the vehicle.  Cordelia refused to give up the car she'd driven for the last 3-years.  Her credit was a mess.  She had a dismissed bankruptcy that was making it almost impossible to secure an auto loan with a decent down payment, for a decent price.  She went to Infiniti dealers three times and was declined all three.   She’d paid $675 every month for her car.  Every month for the last 36-months, never missed a payment but they still refused to finance a new car.   Infiniti would simply have to wait, she had decided.

Standing in the garage watching the driver Cordelia felt like a deer blinded by bright headlights.  She was paralyzed for a second.  She watched the tow truck driver step out the truck and start in her direction.   Unsure of what to do, she closed the garage door, grabbed her laptop and went back inside.   It wasn’t even 10-days past the contract date, she thought when she stepped inside the kitchen.  

Jonas sat at the table looking in the newspaper for a job.  He glanced up from the paper, back down,  and back up at Cordelia.  He saw the strain in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“A tow truck outside,” Cordelia said.

Jonas dropped the paper and headed into the living room.  He glanced out the window.   Cordelia, right behind him.

 “How you know they’re here for your car?”

“Why else would a tow truck be sitting outside our house?” Cordelia asked.  “Of course, it’s here for my car, you gotta go out and talk to’em--”

Jonas was already headed to the door, he glanced at Cordelia with a sigh.  He stopped at the door, inhaled just to make sure he was calm, pulled his tee-shirt down so that it sat over his shorts properly and then he walked outside.

Cordelia remained in the living room, afraid to go to the door, she got her laptop ready, logged into her job site and started working.  After she made sure there wasn't anything urgent going on, she stood up and paced back and forth, balled her hands together, looked up towards the ceiling with pleading eyes. 

“Lord…Lord…Lord,” she said.   She wasn’t the type to pray, especially not when she was doing bad, but she didn’t know what else to do.  She needed help.  After a few minutes Jonas returned, he searched around the living room, his stare blank.  When he spotted his sneakers under the table he grabbed them and started putting them on.

“He wanted me to move my truck,” Jones said.

“What you tell him—“

“I told him no.  Told him, to get that tow truck out my front yard." Jonas said.  “He’s going to call the police.”

“The police,” Cordelia said. She sounded fearful for a minute, then she checked herself.  There was no time for fear, she had to be bold and bad in that moment, “Let me go out here and talk to this man,” she said. She was about to head out the door but Jonas stopped her.

“I say let’s take this car before the police get here, ain’t nothing he can do about it.  Get the kids ready.”

She turned and stared at Jonas, their eyes locked for a full second.  He was serious.  Brandi, her daughter worked nights and hadn't gotten home yet to get the kids dressed for school, they were still sleeping and if they had to leave, they had to take the kids with them.

“I’ll take the kids.  You take the Infiniti," Jonas said as he followed Cordelia up the steps.  "I’ll pull out and block the road, you take the car and head straight for The Woods.”

“The Woods,” Cordelia repeated.    Jonas was from The Woods.  It was a tiny town about an hour from New Greatfurd, probably with a  total population of 25 including children.  But, it had plenty woods and meadows to hide a vehicle. 

“Yeah,” Jonas said, he looked at her with reassurance.  “I know you want your car.  We’ll take it to my brother’s house--you remember how to get out there?”

Cordelia glanced at him with grateful eyes.  Most times she wanted to get rid of Jonas, but there were those moments when she was happy he was around, and for a second she wondered why he put with her, “I remember, head West towards Greatfurd,” she said.  

Her heart beat heavy and her knees wobbled. She checked her laptop and placed it on the dresser.  The twins were sleeping.  She searched the room, pulled out pants and shirts for them both, she dug and found their jackets.  “No whining,” she whispered when she woke Romeo, her grandson.  She kissed his cheek when he opened his eyes.  She did the same for Juliet. She rushed. Nearly throwing on their shirts, sneakers and their jackets.

“Let’s hurry,” Jonas warned. He helped some, but mostly he paced back and forth, grabbing things at Cordelia’s command.

All the while Cordelia thought about the possibility of getting away with the car.  Their chances seemed very slim.  She did consider taking the loss—giving the car back.  Jonas and Brandi both had trucks, they didn’t need the Infiniti.  But, whenever she considered those payments of $675 every month, she became annoyed, almost angry.  Even though they struggled to survive every day, she made sure to make her car payments.  When the mortgage went into foreclosure, she made those car payments.  Through her bankruptcy, she made those car payments and without that vehicle, she would have nothing of her own left.  The house was already gone--that made her feel like a failure, can’t give the car back, she decided.  Not today.

“Let’s go,” she said to Jonas when they had finished getting the kids together.

Outside, the tow truck driver had pulled beside their neighbor’s house.   Jonas glared out the front door and told Cordelia to go and talk with the driver, while he got the kids settled in the truck.  He took her laptop and the kids and walked conspicuously to the drive way, as if it was going to move the truck. The kids moaned as they went along and he tried to cover them with his body.

Cordelia walked across the grass, her focus on the black truck with the gold letters.  It was such a pretty script, not mean and manly--not at all threatening.  She hesitated.  Shifted her gaze between Jonas and the tow truck.  She walked slow almost on tipped-toes, willing her grandkids to keep quite. Her knees wobbled as she approached the tow truck and knocked on the window.

The driver wasn’t paying attention, he was looking down at his phone.  He stopped, glanced up and gazed at Cordelia with an almost confused expression, before he let his window down.

She stood on her toes, “I have to hand the car in on Saturday,” Cordelia said.  She had no confidence in the words that she spoke.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Saturday,” the man repeated, his brow raised.  “Ma’me, I have instructions to tow the Infiniti today, can you move that truck.”

She glanced away from the truck and watched Jonas.  A warm breeze blew in her face and she looked up at the sun, it was so bright she had to squint to see.  Jonas jumped into the drivers seat, holding up his shorts.

The tow truck driver was leaned over and he watched her with curiosity, as he waited for her to reply.

"I can’t do that," she said just as polite and plain.

 “I’ve called the police.”

“Ok,” Cordelia said, “I understand.”

When she turned around Jonas was settled inside his truck with the kids strapped in and the motor running.  From where she stood by the neighbor’s house her driveway seemed to be a long way off, and for a second she wondered if her wobbly knees would give up before the man noticed what they were up too, or before the police arrived.  She walked quickly across her lawn, past her Azalea bushes that were just starting to bud, she walked past the Lilly of the Valleys, and the yellow Daisy that stood by themselves like a lone rangers. She glanced back and saw the driver hadn’t moved.  She made haste.  When she reached the car, she hopped inside and started it up.  Jonas pulled out his truck  and blocked any passage before their driveway.

It was then, just as Cordelia was about to turn out the drive and onto the street, that she noticed the mystified expression on the tow truck driver's face.  He tried to make a move, but Jonas impeded his progress.   Cordelia pressed on the gas, turned out the driveway and rounded the street.  Shaking like a leaf, she turned down the next corner, almost made it to the end when out of nowhere the tow truck turned onto the block.  The driver had managed to turn around in front of her house,. He rushed around the block and was going down the wrong way. He Headed straight for Cordelia's car, but she didn’t budge.  She kept straight ahead and almost caused a head-on collision, but the truck gave up the lane.  He swerved to the left allowing enough road for Cordelia to go around.  

At the corner she made a right. It was rush hour and when she turned onto the main street she hit a line of traffic.  She wanted to cry, her mouth went dry and her legs continued to wobble.  She was in trouble.  A cop sat at the very next light and by that time, the tow truck was back on her trail, only a few cars behind.  Her only option was to turn down the very next road. She turned, prayed to God and hit the gas.  But before she could reach the next corner, the tow truck hit the block and flew down the street. 

She turned down the next street and then the next.  She drove in one side of a strip mall and went right out the opposite side—twice.  She didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to her car, so she followed the speed limit within reason.  All the while the tow truck driver kept up. The driver managed to follow her every move.  Cordelia thought about pulling over and giving up, but then just like that the road appeared.  It was as if it had been drawn on a piece of paper just for her, there it was before her that small street that crossed a fork in the road.

Cordelia drove quite a while, thanking the Lord for his mercy., but knowing she would eventually have to give the car up. But until then… When she was far enough away from her house to know she couldn’t be found, she pulled over inside a CVS parking lot and leaned back.  She let out a sigh.  The sun was set high, bright and shiny making her feel warm inside.  She raised her eyes towards the sunlight amazed she’d gotten away. She admonished herself for nearly giving up. After she checked her emails and saw there was nothing urgent she needed to tend to, she let out a howling laugh and continued to the woods.

The rights to the content / images on this page are owned by Jacqueline Session Ausby,  and you do not  have the  right to use any of the content / images without her expressed permission.  If you would like to contact Jacqueline Ausby, please email jmbeausby@aol.com.  Thank you.

Changed Perception

You could hear a pin drop.  Jersey and Angel looked at one another with big eyes, their mouths wide opened as they realized their perception of things had been flawed.  Cordelia had a whimsical smile on her face, she looked relaxed and matter-of-fact.   She leaned back on the sofa and sipped her wine, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Cordelia didn't have a care in the world, not that day.  They were hanging at Angel’s house, it was a big house, just built from the ground up.  To them the house was more like a mansion.  Even to Angel.  It was a three-story colonial style house, with plenty windows, and as many bathrooms as there were bedrooms.   The sat in the living room listening to music, sipping wine and eating cheese.  Jersey was seated on one end of the sofa, Angel was seated on the opposite side and Cordelia sat in between on the floor. 

They were celebrating, Cordelia finally landed a regular job after four years.  She never counted herself out, others did—counted her out.  Some considered her a washed-up pill popper, but she was well aware that wasn’t the case.  She confessed she had worried about being unemployed so long, year after year, but she never lost hope.   And although she had to put writing on the back burner, she was glad to have a new opportunity.   She wore a hat that day and she tipped it as she lifted her glass.

"I'm an Administrative Assistant at New Bethill Times and It's not far from me putting pen to the pad," Cordelia said.  "Thanks for the idea, Jersey."

“I’m glad it worked out,” Angel said.

“Yes, Yes, but I didn't do anything.” Jersey said, “I'm so glad you're back at work.  You did that Delie--you made that work.  You always do, when the pressure is on, and your back is against the wall.  Here’s to income.”

“Here ye…here ye,” Angel agreed.

“I have insurance too." Cordelia said.  "I just hope it's better than Obamacare, because yah'll know I need my medication."

They all knew it wasn't funny, but they laughed.  It was good news Cordelia had a job, and they were happy.

“Thank God," Angel said with a smile, sitting her wine glass on the table, "Speaking of medication, guess who I saw the other day?"

“Who?"  Jersey and Cordelia asked almost in unison.

 “Brock Davis,” Angel said.  Her faced was frowned as if the very name was disgusting.

Jersey glanced at Cordelia with nervous eyes.  Whenever  the subject of Brock Davis surfaced it made Jersey nervous.  It was a taboo subject in her mind.

Cordelia huffed and flashed an gleeful gaze on her face, “I saw him a few years ago, he was thin as a rail.  Damon told me he was strung out real bad.  Crack kills.”

“Yeah it does," Jersey said.

"He looked real bad," Angel continued, "he asked about you Delia.”

“I hope you told him to keep it moving.”

"I did.” Angel said putting her glass down.  “I told him you were happy and soon to be married.  He gave me a sad look.  I felt bad for him--Real bad."

“I had such a crush on Brock,” Cordelia confessed, and she shook her head side to side in disbelief.   She was only fifteen, and didn't know any better back then.  Over the years she had rarely talked about Brock Davis, and she never once admitted to her sisters, that she had a crush on him.  He was 10-years older than Cordelia, and when she was a teenager, he was a grown man. 

“Thanks to Mommy, I dodged that bullet.”

 “What!”  Jersey sat up with surprise.  “I never knew you had a crush on Brock—I thought you hated him like the rest of us."

"Hate?" Cordelia said, "that's such a strong word."

Jersey thought about the word for a second, they all were supposed to hate Brock, “That is a strong word—maybe I didn’t hate him, as much as I disliked him.  He always gave me the creeps, even before that night," Jersey said.

“He gives me the creeps now, but back then he didn’t.”

 “I never liked him," Angel said.  

"When Mommy told me what he’d did to you I stayed away from him,” Jersey said.

“Me too,”Angel said.

“Mommy told people he raped me,” Cordelia said, “but that wasn’t true.”

“It was more like, molested you because you were so young,” Jersey said.  “I always knew that rape was extreme.  Mommy said that because she wanted us to stay away from him, and she didn’t want nobody to like us,” Jersey said.

“I always thought Brock raped you,” Angel said.  “I still can’t stand him.”

 “He didn’t rape me, that’s for sure.  But, Mommy was right about him, he is slimy.  How come the slimy ones are the ones to live long,” Cordelia said.

Angel shrugged her shoulders, and sipped her wine, “Now knowing you had a crush on him,  I guess we all hated him for no good reason.  But I still don’t like him.”

 “Me either,” Cordelia agreed.  She remembered the blood, turned her lips up, frowned her face like Lilly King would do, and got real serious.   "I haven’t liked him since the night of the miscarriage and I remember that day like it was yesterday.  It's the constant reminder, some motherfuckers, ain't shit."

September 24, 1983.  It was a lazy Saturday morning.    Lilly King sat in the living room drinking a colt 45, listening to Al Greene on the record player.  Her favorite chair was next to the window, and she sat dividing her gaze between the television and outside.  Other kids where outside playing.  Damon was outside, but her girls were in the kitchen, at the table waiting for lunch.  They always sat crowded around the table with glasses and spoons, talking and waiting for the next meal. 

Lilly had just taken a nice swig of beer and was just about to get up and make tuna fish sandwiches when she heard Cordelia cry out for her.

“Ma!” Cordelia called from the other room.

Lilly sat straight up and listened.  It sounded like a shrill cry, Lilly wasn't certain.   She had a way of over reacting when it came to her children, so between Al Greene and another sip of Colt 45 she waited to double check.   The call came a second time.

“Ma!”

Cordelia for sure.  This time Lilly got out her seat.  Cordelia called from the bathroom, and it sounded serious.  Lilly got up and went down the hallway.  They lived in a two-bedroom apartment with a large front room that Lilly used as a bedroom for the girls.  Damon’s room was way in the back, off the kitchen.  Lilly’s bedroom was right across from the bathroom.

When Lilly reached the bathroom, she stopped at the door.  She could hear Cordelia whimpering.

“Delia?” Lilly said through the door.

 “Something is wrong, Mom,” Cordelia said.

Her voice sounded muffled, but Lilly could tell she was crying.

“Open the door,” Lilly said.

She turned the knob. It was locked but she heard Cordelia moving for the door.  Jersey and Angel stood in the kitchen next to the stove.  Lilly suspected they knew what was going on, but she didn't ask them--she didn't have to she could tell by their faces.  She just prayed it wasn’t serious.   

Cordelia opened the door very slow.  Lilly couldn't wait, she squeezed inside the cracked door and stepped inside the bathroom.   The white-tiled bathroom floor was freshly waxed and sprinkled with blood clots so thick they looked like pieces of cinnamon candy.  Lilly looked at her daughter and followed the trial of blood drops to the toilet.  Cordelia sat on the edge of the tub, fresh blood trickled down her legs.

“Stop crying,” Lilly said.  “You have your period?”

Cordelia shrugged, “I don’t know what it is happening to me,” she tried to stop crying, but couldn't control the whimpers.

Lilly glanced into the toilet.  Deep red water surrounded a thick mass of blood.  It looked like a roll of toilet paper.  Lilly stared with a stern face.  Her solid frame leaned down.  With squinted eyes, she moved her head about and examined the contents in the bowl.  The mass that bobbled about had been a living creature.  Lilly never ask about the father of the poor lifeless mound, she suspected Brock Davis. After a long hesitation she turned and stared at her daughter.  

“Delia,” she said.  Her voice was calm, “Did you know you were having a baby?”

“No,” Cordelia mumbled between sobs.   She let out a loud howl and tried to wipe away the tears. 

"You should have known that, you're fifteen."

Cordelia just rocked back and forth and shook her head in disbelief.

Lilly King wasn't the most affectionate of mothers.  Didn't care for a bunch of hugging and kissing, but in that moment, she looked at Cordelia as a budding woman.  She was determined to give her daughter what her mother hadn't given her.  She kissed her daughter on the forehead and patted her on the knee, "get up and take a shower.  Get some of the blood off, you need to get to the doctor." Then she walked back out the bathroom.

Jersey and Angel had abandoned the stove and were standing at the bathroom door.  They made futile attempts to run back into the kitchen, but their feet never moved when Lilly came out.

"Ma, is she okay?" Jersey managed.

 “Yes, she's fine.  Go get her coat," she said to Jersey.  "Angel you go help her get dressed." Lilly walked into her bedroom, and was just about to close her bedroom door when she came back out of her room in a rush, "Don't yah go telling nobody about this.  You hear me.  You hear me," she repeated.

She stood at the door until she got affirmative remarks from Jersey and Angel.  Lilly closed her bedroom door in disbelief.  She still wore her uniform, although she’d been home since noon.  Most Saturday’s she worked till noon, but she was thinking, there was a Saturday when she came home early from work.  That Saturday the girls were out.  And it was that same Saturday she spotted Cordelia and Brock walking down the street.  From a distance, they appeared to be holding hands, but as they drew close to the building they separated themselves, they acted as if they weren't together.  Lilly thought she had imagined what she saw.

Lilly was going to ask Cordelia, and had anticipated her daughter would come directly upstairs.  But she never came.  When Lilly peered her head out the front window, she saw no hair or hide of Cordelia or Brock.  She walked outside into the hallway and peeked down the steps.  No Cordelia.  No Brock.  She suspected they could have been in the basement, but that couldn’t have been the case, Cordelia was too much of a good girl.  She was smart in school, had been a straight A student, had never given Lilly even a single moments trouble.  So that Saturday night, when Lilly heard the phone ring she went back into her apartment, closed the door, answered the phone and never thought about it again, until she saw all that blood. 

She wanted to kick herself.  She should have followed her instincts and gone to the basement.  She would have caught them.  But, unfortunately, she wasn’t going to always be able to protect her children.  Lilly moved about the room quickly, changing her clothes.  She knew Cordelia needed to learn for herself and going down into that basement would have only delayed the inevitable. 

“Mom,” Jersey called with a knock on the door.

"Yeah, come in Jersey."

“Is everything okay with Cordelia.  There’s blood all over the place.”

“Yes, she's fine.  Are you having sex?”

Jersey looked at her mother with a surprised expression, and shrugged her shoulders.  She was the spit image of her grandmother, only prettier and firmer--all her daughters were--pretty and firm.  It was then Lilly realized she had three beautiful daughters, and men were going to go after them.    Lilly shook her head, she didn't want Jersey to answer the question, it was too much at one time.  That's a subject for tomorrow.  “We need to get Delia to the hospital.  I need you to go call 911 and have an ambulance come.”

“Ok, Mom.  I’ll call.”

“Don’t worry Jersey," Lilly said, feeling as if once again, she needed to show her daughter motherly affection, "Delia gonna be just fine."

As Lilly spoke she gathered her Medicaid card and other important documents from her wallet, and finished changing into jeans and a shirt.  Before she returned to the bathroom she grabbed a handful of towels out the hall closet, and a few plastic bags from the kitchen.  She knew she should have been prepared for something like this and she was a little disappointment that she wasn't, but she was determined to fix the situation.

“You think I need to go to the doctor?” Cordelia asked, when Lilly returned to the bathroom.  There was fear in Cordelia's round eyes, the whites of which were red from all the tears.

Angel was helping Cordelia put on her shoes and socks.  Lilly walked around her and went to the toilet.

“Yes, you have to go to the doctor,” Lilly said.  She peered inside the bowl at the mound as she listened to Angel reassure Cordelia.

“Things going to be just fine,” Angel repeated. 

Lilly continued to stare at the mound.  It would have been her first grandchild, she was thinking this very thing when she put her hands inside the bowl.  She carefully retrieved the creature as if it was a newborn baby, and placed it inside the towel.  She noticed both Cordelia and Angel were watching with tears falling.

“Jersey,” Lilly called, “is the ambulance on the way?”

Jersey came to the door and stood next to Lilly.  Lilly rarely worried about, she wasn’t the type to cry.  Even if she felt like bursting into tears, she wouldn't.  Instead Jersey knelt and assisted Lilly with the moving of the package.

 “Yes, they’re on the way."

Angel and Cordelia left the bathroom as Lilly and Jersey cleaned up the mess.  Lilly emerged first from the bathroom and put her coat over her shoulders.  She instructed Jersey and Angel to keep an eye on Damon once the ambulance arrived.

After asking Cordelia an array of questions the medics whisked her away on a stretcher.

~~~~~~

Angel turned the music up so loud you could feel the vibrations of the beat, “How appropriate," She shouted lifting her glass of wine.  Lauren Hill and Mary J blasted on Pandora, it was one of her favorite songs.  "It's amazing the way we turned out, when you think about all the mistakes we made," Angel said over the music.

"That's the truth," Jersey said moving to the beat of the music.

“I used to love him,” Cordelia sang...

 “But now I don’t...don't...don't....don't," they all sang in unison.

The rights to the content / images on this page are owned by Jacqueline Session Ausby,  and you do not  have the  right to use any of the content / images without her expressed permission.  If you would like to contact Jacqueline Ausby, please email jmbeausby@aol.com.  Thank you.

Lights Out

LIGHTS OUT

Cordelia felt as if she'd spent every morning counting and calculating.  She stood in the bathroom staring at the medicine cabinet, getting ready to count the number of pills she had left, and calculate how many days her medications would last.  It was her routine to count her pills first thing every morning, before she calculated her bills. 

She stopped just before she opened the cabinet to look at herself.  She looked deep into her eyes, as if she were searching for something specific.  She looked mean sometimes and other times she looked sweet, just like her mother, Lilly King.  Cordelia had the same brown colored complexion, like her mother.  Had the same little nose and the same weary look in her eyes.  Also, like her mother had been when she was alive, Cordelia was sick all the time.  Her sisters called her a hypochondriac.  And there was a time when she believed herself to be a hypochondriac.  But too many diagnoses and too many medications had convinced her otherwise.  Over the years she’d been prescribed medication for everything from heartburn to acute anxiety.  She popped so many pills, it was difficult to keep them all filled, but she always made sure she had enough Xanax and Valium to pull her through her days.

It was Thursday morning and the rain poured.  Although the day had just started it was shaping up to be another crazy day in their household.  She had a job interview in New York and had argued with her boyfriend Jonas over the car.  He didn’t want to walk to work in the rain, but she needed the car for the interview.  It didn't make sense for her to rush to get dress just to run him two blocks.  He’d gotten mad that morning and started an argument, that ended up with her going into the bathroom so she didn't have to hear his voice. 

Her nerves were on edge.  Through the bathroom wall she could hear her grandkids.    They were whining about having to go to school, and Brandi, her daughter was reassuring them that it was going to be a good day. 

Yes it's going to be a good day, Cordelia whispered as she clasped the bottle of Valium and swallowed one of the oval shaped pills.  Three pills left, enough she figured to hold her till Jonas got paid.

Cordelia doubted if she’d even get the job in New York.  Not that she wasn’t qualified, it just wasn’t in the cards.   She'd been unemployed for five years and everyday proved more difficult to obtain a decent paying position.  Most of the time when she interviewed, people would simply say, “we’ll call you.”  But they never did.  There were those rare occasions when they called back for a second-interview, but then nothing.  She’d tried her hand at freelancing but came up empty, just not enough companies interested in reading articles about the insurance industry.  

 “If yah don’t shut up,” Cordelia yelled as she started to wash her face.   

“Mom,” Brandi shouted entering the bathroom, “what time will you be back home?”

Cordelia shrugged her shoulders and started to brush her teeth, she glanced in the mirror at her daughter, “why?”

“I was going to Abdul’s house this afternoon.”

“Well you can’t go until I get back,” Cordelia replied.

If Brandi wasn’t her daughter, she’d be out of luck.  She had two kids that were into everything, all the time. Cordelia remembers the time when kids got into normal things, like your clothes, your shoes, and your makeup.  Now, they did all that, plus steal phones and send random text messages, download moves from Amazon, and photo bomb you if you accidentally dozed off.   That was Romeo and Juliet.  They were bad, but as cute as buttons.  Cordelia didn’t feel like babysitting, but she knew Brandi needed a break.  

 “Hopefully I won’t be too long, I'll pick up the kids from school.  Honestly," Cordelia began,  "I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time going to an interview.  I ain’t going to get this fucking job anyway.”

“You’ll get it,” Brandi said.  

 “I hope so.” Cordelia started, she was about to  say something about Abdul, but stopped because everything went black.  The lights went out. 

“Shit,” Cordelia said, “I hope the lights ain’t out.”

“Mom did you call the electric company?”

“Yeah I called them motherfuckers!  They told me I had a week to pay $2000.”

“You didn’t pay it?”  Brandi asked.  She realized she had asked a stupid question and giggled.

Cordelia grabbed a glass of water, taking a sip she started to walk into her bedroom, and before she stepped into her room, she turned and faced Brandi.  Astounded, she almost laughed with her daughter, had the situation not been so dire. 

When did you give me $2,000."

Brandi tried to answer the question, but couldn't.  She went back into the bedroom, telling the twins to clean up their beds.

“Get'em in the shower before all the hot water runs cold.  No electric--no hot water.”

Cordelia stepped into her bedroom calculating the amount of money she and Jonas had in the bank, and wondering how much the electric company would want to restore the power.  

Jonas's rank frame was leaned out the window and he had one sneaker on his foot,  the other was next to the pile of sneaker boxes near his closet door.   It was raining hard outside and water splattered the window sill and dripped to the floor.

“Maybe you should close the window, It’s raining you know," Cordelia said.

“I know," Jonas returned.  He got out the window and glared at Cordelia,  Jonas was a plain guy, short and thin, average is the way Cordelia referred to him, but he was kind to a fault. "I was trying to see what the electric company was going to do.”

"They all ready did it, look around," she said.  Her tone was as sarcastic at the look on her face.

The bedroom they shared was overcrowded.  Their entire house was overcrowded.  The two-bedroom townhouse she owned was just too small to accommodate so many people.  She had owned the townhouse since Brandi was a child.  Back then it was just enough space for the two of them.   Now it was Romeo, Juliet, Jonas and sometimes, her brother, Damon. Too many people, for a two bedroom townhouse, with the only full bathroom connecting two bedrooms.

Cordelia walked around the bed that took up most of the space, to her side of the room.  She kept the phone tucked on her side of the room, under the bed.  She grabbed it and proceeded to dial the electric company.

 “Their truck's leaving now,” Jonas said.  “How much in the bank?”

“Not enough," Cordelia said.

"How much?"  Jonas asked for a second time.

Cordelia, could feel her medication starting to work, as she waited for a live person to come on the phone line.  Her breathing was at a light ease, and she felt as if she didn't have a problem in the world.  "Like $200, not enough to pay the electric.”

“What we going to do?” he asked.

 “Get it back on.”

 “Man lived in caved without lights for centuries, we can get some candles, and live off of natural light for a couple of days," Jonas said, he sounded hopeful.

"The kids won't have no TV."

"They got plenty gadgets, and we can read to them.  Won't be so bad without lights.  Call me if you need me," he said putting his sneaker on.  Before he walked out the door he turned around and gazed at Cordelia with a warm smile, "Good luck on your interview.”

He didn’t mean what he said.  Cordelia know this for a fact.  He liked her broke, it made him feel superior, like he was her provider, King of the household.  She wasn’t always broke.  She once  wrote business polices for insurance companies, and wrote insurance newsletters.  It had been her profession for twenty years.  She could recite insurance state laws and guidelines with ease.  But that was before she met Jonas, they  met when she was forty.  At that time she still had money saved, but the years in-and-out of work had depleted her savings.  What Jonas made working as a janitor for a nursing home, his social security, combined with what she made working temporary assignments editing policies, gave them just enough money to squeak by. 

 “Good morning, I’m calling about the electric at 397 Queensbridge Street.  My power was just shut off.”

“Good morning,” it was a man on the opposite end of the phone. 

After the initial introduction, Cordelia put the call on speaker so she could finish getting ready for the interview.  Her suit  hung on her closet door.  It was a nice blue suit and white shirt.  For a passing second, she felt guilty for buying it, she knew when she purchased the suit that the electric bill was way past due.  She had to reminded herself, to be considered for a position she needed executive presence.  Besides, having the sixty-bucks she’d paid for the suit wasn’t going to get the electric back on, but a new job would certainly help on that front.

 “Yes, I know they told me I had to pay $2,000, but I explained to someone that I don’t have that type of money and we have children here and someone on social security.”

“You can get on a plan once the services are restored and that will help with your back bill, but to restore your service today we’re going to need a payment of $2,000.”

 “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t have that amount of money, Sir.”

 “Ma’am there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yes, there is something you can do--you can let me speak with your manager,” Cordelia returned.

“Ma’am my manager is going to tell you the same thing.”

“Even though we have two kids here, they won’t turn the power back on?”

“No ma’am, they won’t.”

“We’ll sir let your manager tell me that,” she snapped.

“It’s going to be a while before they can get on the line.”

“I can hold.”

Cordelia was aware, no matter how much she begged and pleaded the electric company wasn’t going to turn the power on.  Not without a payment.  They'd already given her several chances and they still weren't able to come up with that kind of money.  

“Nana,” Romeo called when he walked into the room carrying a pair of jeans in his hands.  “Mommy said no lights.”

 “No lights,” Cordelia said, and she knelled down, and gazed directly into her grandson's eyes.  She had to keep the lights on, can't have kids going to school without television.  "Don’t repeat that.”  She said, in the soft tone she used when she spoke to her grandkids.  He was only four-years old, but she spoke to him as if he was young man.  She took the pants away, and after she set them down on the bed, she hoisted him onto her lap and began to lotion his legs. 

“Don’t tell your teacher or anybody at your school that the lights are out, do you understand?”

He looked back at Cordelia, with his big eyes,  and nodded his head as if he really understood.  All the while the phone sang out with hold music from the electric company.  By the time the manager came on the line, Romeo was dressed and Cordelia was putting on her shoes. 

“Hi my electric was turned off this morning, I want to know how I can get it turned back on quickly.”

“You would need to pay $2,000.”

“I just explained to the other agent that I don’t have that type of money.  I work party-time, my boyfriend is disabled and I have two children that live with me.  There’s no way we can go without electric.  I was hoping since you're a manager you could make an exception."

“I do understand Mrs. King, but unfortunately there’s no way to restore the service without a payment of $2,000.”

Brandi and Juliet walked into the bedroom to get Romeo for school, but sat down on the bed next to Cordelia.  Brandi listened to the conversation as she put on the kid’s jackets.

For a second Cordelia wondered what Brandi would do without her, but was glad they didn’t have to worry, not today.  Cordelia would always be there to figure things out for her family.

“Get my check book.” She whispered and she ushered for Brandi to look in the top drawer of her side table.

“You're going to write a check?” Brandi returned in a whisper of her own.

With an obvious glance on her face, Cordelia nodded her head, “Okay ma'me I’ll pay the $2,000.”

“I’ll transfer you to the payment center.  You’ll need your account number,” the woman added.  Cordelia wrote down the information and waited for the transfer.

After the payment was made Cordelia hung up the phone she looked at her daughter and her grandchildren with relief.  According to her calculations they would have about three or four days to figure things out, “we have a few days and then we’re going to be shit out of luck.”

The rights to the content on this page are owned by Jacqueline Session Ausby and you don’t have no right to use any of the content without her expressed permission.  If you would like to contact Jacqueline Ausby, please email jmbeausby@aol.com.  Thank you.