RED SOX: You gotta believe, again!
THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY
by Phair
Ash sat in Ms. Pesco’s office clutching the smallest of her three boxes. It was suppose to be moving day but the Supervisor for the group home seemed bent on stopping the planned transition. She expressed concerns about some sort of ‘development’ and sent Ash to wait in her office.
“Fine! It’s only my life you’re worried about. Don’t bother to fill me in on all the boring details,” Ash fumed in silence as she drummed her fingers against the cardboard. “What possible difference could my opinion make at this point? What difference does my life make anyway?”
The door to the office swung open and a gush of cool air followed. Donny, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt walked in with a sad smile. Ash was certain her plans were doomed before they even got started.
“Hey Ash,” Donny sat in the hard wood chair next to her, “we got some problems to work out, I hear.”
“FUCK!” Ash shouted and Ms. Pesco slammed the door closed. The bang did not end Ash’s outburst, “She won’t let me go! I’m already packed and she says I got to stay in state custody. I didn’t do nothing but she says I got to stay locked up. Do I?”
Ms. Pesco moved to sit behind her desk. She remained calm when she replied, “Ms. Ash, I’m only trying to protect your interests. The state guidelines recommend continued supervision for 18 year olds like yourself who maybe at risk of victimization in the community. That is why I think a shelter is your best option.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Ash clutched her box and shook her head as she repeated her mantra over and over.
“Ash,” Donny spoke in an even tone over the two competing voices, “Lindsey, listen to me. Let’s let Ms. Pesco tell us her concerns. If you decide the threat to your well being is insignificant then we can gather your boxes and go. If you are in the least bit concerned by what Ms. Pesco tells us then we can find a safe place for you to stay. Is that agreeable?”
Ash eyed him searching for the lie but found none. “Seriously? Let her talk and then we go?”
“Unless you feel more support is needed. Remember, you can continue receiving services until you are 22 years old,” Donny stated.
Ms. Pesco straightened a bit before adding, “Up to 22 and only under extreme situations.”
“Ya, like you said six months ago; I don’t deserve extra time,” Ash grumbled.
Ms. Pesco folded her chubby arms across her ample chest, “I believe I said you didn’t qualify at that point. However, things have changed in the last 24 hours.”
Ash ignored her explanation, “Okay, Donny, I’ll listen to her and then we’ll go.”
Both the Supervisor and Social Worker sighed with relief. They knew this was the best compromise they could hope for with their young but nearly independent charge.
“I have a friend,” Ms. Pesco began, “who works at The Voice of The People.”
The Voice, as locals called it, was a 150 year old family run newspaper. It was also the only local paper for 50 miles. The editorial staff had an unwavering conservative bend.
Ms. Pesco continued, “My friend got a look at Sunday’s Editorial a little bit early. She sent me over a copy. It seems the graduation and Mrs. Pretty’s speech weren’t taken well.”
“She didn’t say nothing bad,” Ash defended the celebrity who spoke up for her.
“No, she didn’t say anything bad but some people took what she did say badly. There are some people who don’t like it when the boat gets rocked, so to speak.” Ms. Pesco smoothed her dark hand across her naturally unruly, curly hair before continuing, “Some very powerful people were offended by the breach in the format.”
“So what?” Ash tried not to care.
“The editorial, not only attacks Mrs. Pretty, it gives out personal information about you.”
Ash shrugged. She tried to show she didn’t care. But, she did care very much.
“Ms. Ash, the editorial contains a quote from your mother,” Ms. Pesco said with the finality of a slamming coffin.
Donny took a piece of white paper from his shirt pocket, “Lindsey, let me read you a little of what they wrote. ‘The pathetic thing about Mrs. Pretty’s liberal leaning free-for-all of a speech was the subject it was made for. Lindsey Ash, a true blue sociopath in the making. A girl with a very high IQ but not one friend. Her own mother dumped this misfit years ago because of her abhorrent behavior patterns. ‘Lindsey never fit in,” she told us. ‘The girl would set fires and break every piece of glass in the house without provocation. She was a wild, uncontrollable thing.”
Ash couldn’t look up. She couldn’t muster a tear either. She sat shivering in her own private Hell.
Finally she blurted out, “Her pimp left the matches on the coffee table. They were on the couch next to me having sex. I thought he was hurting her. She was screaming. The glass was her crack pipe. It made them crazy when they smoked. I wanted them to stop. It was bad to break their stuff. I know. They taught me. They strapped me for it. He used his belt. Then she had a turn. I learned my lesson. I never broke nothing after that. Why does she need to keep beating me up about it?”
Ms. Pesco asked. “Ms. Ash, do you see why I want you to have continued support?”
“But, I didn’t do anything wrong. You want me to go a shelter. I’ve been to them already. Do you have any idea what it’s like? Scared women and screaming kids jammed into small rooms with just one bathroom to share. Sometimes dozens of us sharing one bathroom.” Ash closed her eyes to keep the demons of the past at bay, “Guys prowled around all night shouting the names of their women and what they’d do if the women didn’t go home with them. There’re always cops and sirens. No, no, no, no, I won’t go there again. Never.”
“Lindsey,” Ms. Pesco began.
“NO! You started this. You said I had to leave…,” Ash dropped her box and reared up.
“You were graduating,” Ms. Pesco defended.
“So what? I was afraid. I’ve been here for seven years. It was my home. I begged you to let me stay and you said it couldn’t happen…,”
Ms. Pesco was somber, “You can’t stay here. You need continued support at another facility. A facility which can handle adults.”
“I’m not an adult. I’m only eighteen,” Ash choked on her tears.
Donny stood and wrapped an arm around Ash’s shoulders, “There are guidelines, kiddo. We have to follow them. Please, try to let us help you. Are you afraid for your safety because of this newspaper article?”
Both Supervisor and Social Worker held their breath. They hoped Ash would give the answer they felt was right for her.
“No.”
“Ms. Ash,” Ms. Pesco began to plead.
“No, you said I had to go so I’m going! I’m not afraid to be on my own. Not anymore. I got a job with Ms. Deming and a place to live at Mrs. Ng’s boarding house. So what about my mother? Who cares what a crack addicted prostitute says about the kid she gave away?” Ash was shouting.
“Ex,” Donny spoke quietly.
“Ex?” Ash questioned.
Donny glanced at the paper in his hand before paraphrasing, “Jan, who asked us to withhold her full name out of respect for her new family, admits to her own tribulations.”
“She gets to stay anonymous?” Stunned, Ash sat back down.
“She is a recovering alcoholic,” Donny continued. “She regrets that she has no clear memory of Lindsey’s father because of her addiction problems around the time of her pregnancy.”
“Or maybe it’s because he was one of hundreds of guys who fucked her for money,” Ash grumbled.
“Do you want me to read more?” Donny asked.
“Does it say anything about her? Like what she’s doing now? I mean, when she’s not busy having press conferences about her bastard white trash ex-daughter,” Ash sneered.
Ms. Pesco cleared her throat and said, “She lives nearby but not in town. She’s married to a minister. They have three children…,”
“Did she keep any of them?” Ash sarcastically asked as she swatted away tears.
“Let us help you through this Lindsey,” Ms. Pesco almost sounded like she was begging. Ash shook her head no. “Donny, could you give us a few minutes and then I’ll help you two get Lindsey’s things in your truck.”
The Social Worker nodded. He folded the editorial paper back into his shirt pocket before stepping out of the room. Ms. Pesco waited until the door closed before moving to the seat next to Lindsey.
“In twenty years as a youth counselor, I’ve never given personal information to any of my clients.”
Ash didn’t look at the woman. She knew why Ms. Pesco kept herself at a strictly professional distance. The counselor shared a house with Melody Harman. Most of the town thought the pair were upstairs/downstairs neighbors. But, Ash had seen them together one afternoon while mowing their neighbor’s backyard. The pair were in the first floor kitchen dancing while making dinner. They weren’t just dancing; they were slow dancing; slow dancing to Barry White music. In the quiet family town of Blandford, that type of revelation could ruin any chance of maintaining a government job involving the care of children or adolescents.
“Good thing for Ms. Pesco her neighbor’s blind,” Ash remembered thinking at the time.
“Lindsey, on this card is my office phone, pager, and cell phone.” Ms. Pesco sighed and turned the card over, “On the back is my private home phone number and my email address. This is a calling card with exactly one gizzion minutes,” Ms. Pesco smiled when Ash grinned at the joke. “My first name is Dyvette. When you call, use my first name otherwise my partner won’t know who you’re talking about.”
Ash took the cards. Her eyes were filled with tears as she stood. Dyvette pulled her into a bear hug.
“You are going to do things! Do you hear me? Great things! There will be obstacles along the way but you can always go around or over them.” Dyvette let Ash sob into her shoulder. “Anything gets in your way that’s to big for one person, you call me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” was all Ash could mumble around her tears. “Thank you, Ms. Pesco. For everything. Thank you.”
Donny steered his truck into one of the five parking spaces at Shangri La Boarding House. The gray three decker and matching garage were meticulously maintained. Ash felt a bit of pride swelling when Donny gave his nod of approval.
“Nice looking digs, Ash.”
“Mrs. Ng and I just finished painting it last weekend,” Ash tried to sound casual as she detailed the daunting projected. “It took two solid weeks but it was worth it. I got Ray at the hardware to give us a discount because we had to buy so much paint. The scariest part was being up on the extension ladder. Mrs. Ng was supposed to hold the bottom but, sometimes, she talks with her hands. The whole thing would shake until she stopped talking.”
“Maybe I should get you to help with my house,” Donny mumbled as he thought of his own house with chipping paint.
Ash giggled as she popped her door open, “Sorry but between the coffee shop and my mowing jobs and painting the Stone’s kitchen, I’m kind of booked up for the next couple of months. I could squeeze you in for a mow, if you want. I got fourteen regular customers now but I could go to sixteen. That’s my top number, though.”
“Stone, as in MaryEllen Stone?” Donny asked breaking into Ash’s whirlwind.
“Her Mom saw me painting here and hired me to do their kitchen. It’ll only take two or three days and she’s giving me two hundred,” Ash explained while she fished her pockets for her keys. “Fifty down, hundred fifty on completion.”
Donny hefted the two boxes out of the truck. He followed Ash to the side door of the garage which lead to the loft above. The stairwell was narrow and dark. Heat seemed to emanate from the upper level. Once Ash opened the second door to the room above the garage a wave of hot air blasted them. Donny began to sweat immediately.
“You’re gonna need a fan,” he groaned once they were inside.
“Got it,” Ash turned on a rusty 1950’s style floor fan with slightly bent blades.
Donny rolled his eyes. “Flee market special?”
“No, it was in the garage. When I cleaned it out for Ms. Ng, she said I could keep anything I wanted. I got the bed that way too.”
Donny noted that the fan and the bed were the only two pieces of furniture in the room. The ceiling sloped down with the sides of the roof which meant he needed to duck coming in and going out.
“Good thing you’re short,” he teased her. “Please, tell me again. Why aren’t you staying in the main house?”
Ash got up to give him the full tour. “I have my own toilet.”
“Yes, but not walls or tub or shower,” Donny observed the little toilet and sink tucked against the east wall.
“I get to live alone,” Ash motioned to the entire space. “For the first time in my life, I get to live without other abandon kids, Matrons, cops, Social Workers, no offense.”
“None taken,” Donny laughed. “Oh, I put a present from Angie in the top of one of your boxes.”
“Present?” Ash was stunned.
“Yep, here it is. Happy house warming.”
Ash stood for a moment clutching the decorative gift bag. It had a childish drawing of a house with stick figures carrying boxes and furniture inside. All the stick figures were smiling. Bright letters along the top announced MOVING DAY.
“Go on, open it.”
Ash peeked inside the bag. She had to move several slips of tissue paper to see the gift.
“Sheets,” Ash sighed. “Brand new sheets with flowers on them. I’ve never had printed sheets before just the white ones the state uses. I’ve never even slept on new sheets. Ever.”
“Angie wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow. Do you want me to pick you up or do you want to walk?”
“But…, I couldn’t…,” Ash stammered feeling guilty for taking up so much of Donny and Angie’s time and attention.
“Hey, no arguments. Don’t disappoint a pregnant lady,” Donny laughed as he ducked out the little door. “We’ll pick you up at 5:30. See you.”
Ash stood in the middle of her own room, cradling her new sheets, and with the first social engagement of her adult life already scheduled, “Wow.”
