04-04-2019, 04:09 PM
A Little Night Music Ch. 06
"From the President of the United States,
To the lowliest rock & roll star.
The doctor is in, and he'll see you now.
He don't care who you are.
Some get the awful, awful diseases,
some get the knife, some get the gun.
Some get to die in their sleep
at the age of a hundred and one."
-Warren Zevon, "Life'll Kill Ya"
The light went on in the room ahead. There was a buzzing sound, and then another door inside that room opened. Something orange moving inside and something blue moving past the wire-reinforced window in the door in front of her that hadn't opened yet. The old institutional tube light in the hallway where she stood waiting flickered overhead. There was a latching sound inside the room, and then the partial figure of a person in a blue uniform filled the window. A louder, closer buzz, and the door was opened.
Helena Medina... No. "Parker," she reminded herself, the judges wouldn't let it be Medina and make this exercise completely unnecessary; stood in the doorway. Behind her, Propappou placed a hand on the shoulder of the jacket she'd worn three years ago, tiny snags from her run through the woods now grown into large rips that had been patched with the logos of various punk and metal bands. She'd had to remove the pins and studs she'd secured or reinforced other parts of the jacket with before coming this far.
Her hand touched his, then let go. Troy stood at her side, out of view from inside the room. With her other hand, she reached out and touched his for a moment. He did the same and they smiled at each other. A second later, she stepped through alone.
Wade John Wayne Parker sat at a table in an orange jumpsuit and glared past his daughter at the old Greek man behind her. He gave the old man a look that said he wanted to jump up on the table and laugh and mock him for the courts not letting him steal her away and that the only reason he wasn't was that he was aware his ankles were chained to his chair and that the guards would surround and beat him. Byroni Medina returned it with eyes demanding that Zeus immediately blast this malaka pimple from the ass of the Earth with his thunderbolt. Their eyes remained fixed while a guard offered to get Mr. Medina some coffee until the closing of the door forced them to break contact.
Helena walked up to the chair on the other side of the plexiglass partition that bisected the table between them, and looked around, seeming not to notice the man seated three feet from her. Wade broke the silence, his voice coming through a grill in the glass that seemed to be floating in space a few inches above the table.
"One of the guys owes me a pack of smokes. I guess the fact that you're here means the judge saw reason, huh?"
Helena looked down at the seat of the chair. She flicked an imaginary bug or speck off of it. If she'd heard, she didn't react.
"How's the new foster family? Must be doing something right, even if they keep letting that old bastard bring you for Father's Day. You still letting his half-goat stick it in you?"
Helena let that go and continued looking at the red lights on the cameras in the corners. Things were actually going great with her foster family. Her case worker had proven very agreeable about her situation and always felt the compulsion to let Helena know a couple days before any visits or "surprise inspections." The foster family she was with were also more than happy to agree to Helena's proposal of cashing and handing over her entire maintenance check each month in exchange for lying to the social workers that she was home every night instead of spending all her time at the Medina house and keeping her room clean but otherwise undisturbed for when she had to be there for visits. She smiled and waved to one of the cameras, as if noticing them for the first time.
"OK," Wade said. "We're gonna be like that. Fine. I'm sorry, ok? Maybe if the cops had kept me all weekend, I wouldn't've come home so pissed, and your mom..."
Helena turned at the last two words and quick-walked over to the chair, an expression on her face that said that she was extremely interested in whatever he was going to say next.
"What," she asked. "What possible reason are you going to tell me my mother gave you that made you HAVE to beat her to death that's going to make me go 'Oh, ok?' WHAT? Let's hear it!"
Even through the glass, Wade Parker took half a jump back before responding with more anger.
"Look, I was drunk, ok!"
"I watched you kill my mother, Wade. I KNOW you were drunk! You were ALWAYS drunk! That excuses NOTHING!"
"This... look, shit happens. You shouldn't have let them call the cops on me!"
"And let you kill me and bury me in the marsh like you always say you should have?" He began to open his mouth to deny it. She shouted him down before the words left it. "Don't fucking tell me you weren't! You bought the fucking garbage bags and duct tape! Because the other guys weren't dumbfuck enough to go along with your 'my daughter can be our accomplice, she'll risk jail for us, won't ya sweetie' plan! Booze didn't tell you to be a piece of shit criminal, YOU told you to do that!"
"From the President of the United States,
To the lowliest rock & roll star.
The doctor is in, and he'll see you now.
He don't care who you are.
Some get the awful, awful diseases,
some get the knife, some get the gun.
Some get to die in their sleep
at the age of a hundred and one."
-Warren Zevon, "Life'll Kill Ya"
The light went on in the room ahead. There was a buzzing sound, and then another door inside that room opened. Something orange moving inside and something blue moving past the wire-reinforced window in the door in front of her that hadn't opened yet. The old institutional tube light in the hallway where she stood waiting flickered overhead. There was a latching sound inside the room, and then the partial figure of a person in a blue uniform filled the window. A louder, closer buzz, and the door was opened.
Helena Medina... No. "Parker," she reminded herself, the judges wouldn't let it be Medina and make this exercise completely unnecessary; stood in the doorway. Behind her, Propappou placed a hand on the shoulder of the jacket she'd worn three years ago, tiny snags from her run through the woods now grown into large rips that had been patched with the logos of various punk and metal bands. She'd had to remove the pins and studs she'd secured or reinforced other parts of the jacket with before coming this far.
Her hand touched his, then let go. Troy stood at her side, out of view from inside the room. With her other hand, she reached out and touched his for a moment. He did the same and they smiled at each other. A second later, she stepped through alone.
Wade John Wayne Parker sat at a table in an orange jumpsuit and glared past his daughter at the old Greek man behind her. He gave the old man a look that said he wanted to jump up on the table and laugh and mock him for the courts not letting him steal her away and that the only reason he wasn't was that he was aware his ankles were chained to his chair and that the guards would surround and beat him. Byroni Medina returned it with eyes demanding that Zeus immediately blast this malaka pimple from the ass of the Earth with his thunderbolt. Their eyes remained fixed while a guard offered to get Mr. Medina some coffee until the closing of the door forced them to break contact.
Helena walked up to the chair on the other side of the plexiglass partition that bisected the table between them, and looked around, seeming not to notice the man seated three feet from her. Wade broke the silence, his voice coming through a grill in the glass that seemed to be floating in space a few inches above the table.
"One of the guys owes me a pack of smokes. I guess the fact that you're here means the judge saw reason, huh?"
Helena looked down at the seat of the chair. She flicked an imaginary bug or speck off of it. If she'd heard, she didn't react.
"How's the new foster family? Must be doing something right, even if they keep letting that old bastard bring you for Father's Day. You still letting his half-goat stick it in you?"
Helena let that go and continued looking at the red lights on the cameras in the corners. Things were actually going great with her foster family. Her case worker had proven very agreeable about her situation and always felt the compulsion to let Helena know a couple days before any visits or "surprise inspections." The foster family she was with were also more than happy to agree to Helena's proposal of cashing and handing over her entire maintenance check each month in exchange for lying to the social workers that she was home every night instead of spending all her time at the Medina house and keeping her room clean but otherwise undisturbed for when she had to be there for visits. She smiled and waved to one of the cameras, as if noticing them for the first time.
"OK," Wade said. "We're gonna be like that. Fine. I'm sorry, ok? Maybe if the cops had kept me all weekend, I wouldn't've come home so pissed, and your mom..."
Helena turned at the last two words and quick-walked over to the chair, an expression on her face that said that she was extremely interested in whatever he was going to say next.
"What," she asked. "What possible reason are you going to tell me my mother gave you that made you HAVE to beat her to death that's going to make me go 'Oh, ok?' WHAT? Let's hear it!"
Even through the glass, Wade Parker took half a jump back before responding with more anger.
"Look, I was drunk, ok!"
"I watched you kill my mother, Wade. I KNOW you were drunk! You were ALWAYS drunk! That excuses NOTHING!"
"This... look, shit happens. You shouldn't have let them call the cops on me!"
"And let you kill me and bury me in the marsh like you always say you should have?" He began to open his mouth to deny it. She shouted him down before the words left it. "Don't fucking tell me you weren't! You bought the fucking garbage bags and duct tape! Because the other guys weren't dumbfuck enough to go along with your 'my daughter can be our accomplice, she'll risk jail for us, won't ya sweetie' plan! Booze didn't tell you to be a piece of shit criminal, YOU told you to do that!"
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