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Cabel: Yes . . . they helped with the pain. But then I got myself into a few, well, uh, situations. And Captain stepped in my life at exactly the right moment before junior year, before I was too far in trouble. And it sounds weird, but she became sort of this army-type, no-nonsense mother I desperately needed. That was the Goth stage, where I decided I’d never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention the hairstyle.
(pause)
But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.
Janie: (laughs)
Cabel: So that made me feel better. Because she didn’t care what people thought if she spoke to me. Before I changed.
(pause)
Janie: (smiles) Why did you change it? Your look, I mean.
Cabel: Captain’s orders. For the job. It’s not my car, either, by the way. It’s part of the image. I suppose I’ll have to give it back after a while.
(pause)
Hey, Janie?
Janie: Yeah?
Cabel: What are you doing after high school?
Janie: (sighs) It’s still up in the air, I guess. In two years, I’ve barely saved enough money for one semester at U of M . . . God, that’s just crazy . . . so, unless I get a decent scholarship, it’ll be community college.
Cabel: So you’re staying around here?
Janie: Yeah . . . I, uh, I need to be close enough so I can keep an eye on my mother, you know? And . . . I
think, with my little “problem,” I’m going to have to live at home. Or I’ll never get any sleep.
Cabel: Janie?
Janie: Yes?
Cabel: I’m going there. To U of M.
Janie: You are NOT.
Cabel: Criminal Justice. So I can keep my job here.
Janie: How do you know? Did you get an acceptance letter already? How can you afford it?
Cabel: Um, Janie?
Janie: Yesss, Cabel?
Cabel: I have another lie to confess.
Janie: Oh, dear. What is it?
Cabel: I do, actually, know what my GPA is.
Janie: And?
Cabel: And. I have a full-ride scholarship.
Cabel is pushed violently from the beanbag chair. And pounced upon. And told, repeatedly, what a bastard he is.
Janie is told that she will most certainly get a scholarship too, with her grades. Unless she plays hooky with drug dealers.
And then there is some kissing.
December 10, 2005
The weekend is shot. Cabel is back to courting Shay, and Janie is working Friday night, and Saturday and Sunday first shifts at the nursing home.
But Carrie finds Janie. And Janie, worried that the drug bust will go down over the weekend, really doesn’t want Carrie mixed up in it. She asks Carrie if she wants to study for exams sometime. They reluctantly agree on Saturday night at Janie’s.
Carrie shows up around six p.m., and she’s already loaded. Janie makes her haul out her books and notes, anyway. “Are you gonna go to college or not?” she asks sharply.
“Well, sure,” Carrie says. “I guess. Unless Stu wants to get married.”
“Does he?”
“I think so. Maybe. Sometime.”
“Do you?” Janie asks, after a moment.
“Sure, why not. Get me away from my parents.”
“Your parents aren’t that bad, really. Are they?”
Carrie grimaces. “You should have seen them before.”
“Before what?”
“Before we moved in next door to you.”
Janie hesitates. Trying to decide if this is the right time to ask. “Hey, Carrie?”
“What.”
“Who’s Carson?”
Carrie stares at Janie. “What did you just say?”
“I said, who is Carson?”
Carrie’s face grows alarmed. “How do you know about Carson?”
“I don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t need to ask.” Janie is walking a thin line here. One she can’t see.
Carrie, obviously troubled, paces around the kitchen. “But how did you know to ask me about him?”
“You said his name once,” Janie says carefully, “in your sleep. I was just curious.”
Carrie sloshes some vodka in a glass. Sits down. Starts to cry.
Oh, shit, Janie thinks.
And then Carrie spills the story.
“Carson . . . was four.”
Janie’s stomach twists.
