Life on the Level (32 page)

“What are you asking from me, River?” Helen asks.

“I want you to properly investigate Taylor. I was at that barn, and so were others. I know he’s using Julie. She’s just a mark.” Something dawns on me. She was empty-handed when she was going into the library, and she left with me. She was also the one who took the book from me the first time. Where’s a better place to hide drugs than the room people hardly ever use? “Taylor’s been fooling everyone here. He’s the best con artist I’ve met outside New York. Check the library. You’ll find a bunch of books with holes in the center. That’s how he delivers. Helen, please, believe me.”

Helen spins in her chair. “I’ll speak to Nick when he wakes. I’ll go to the library myself. This isn’t going to be an overnight thing, River. It’ll take time.”

“What happens to me?” I don’t want to leave. I want to finish my program, and then explore the rest of my life.

Ransom runs into the room. He’s empty-handed. At first I think that Julie moved my things. He looks at me with tears in his eyes.

“Ransom?” I can barely get his name out.

“I’m sorry, River.” He looks from me to Simmons. “I had to do the right thing.”

Moments later, the cops from yesterday are standing at the door. One’s got cuffs in his hands, another steps forward with a clear plastic bag of pills.

“Those aren’t mine,” I say.

“Hutch told me you smuggled pills in,” Helen says.

I shake my head. “He didn’t.”

“Yes, River. He did. Is it one pill or a dozen? Why should I believe anything you say?”

“It was just the one pill! I got it from Taylor at the barn—”

“The barn that’s burned to a crisp?” Her brow creases into a thousand lines. She looks angry. Worse, she looks disappointed.

The patients that have gathered outside in the hall have multiplied. I even catch Julie’s face in the crowd, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Vilma and Jermania are there too. They can’t look me in the eye. They don’t step forward to say that I was right. It’s just like with Randy, except I’m too weary to resist.

“River Thomas, you’re under arrest.”

“Sky,” I say. “I’ve been arrested. I need bail money. Please call me back.”

I’m too exhausted to do the math on the time difference. I’m too exhausted to remember if Sky is in the middle of her shift or not.

That was my one call, and it ended with me talking to an answering machine. I slam the phone down.

“Easy, now, lady,” the cop tells me. “What’d that phone ever do to you?”

I all but hiss in his direction. I haven’t said anything since they arrested me. We pass a cell full of guys passed out in disheveled costumes. Was Halloween just yesterday? A hairy old man whistles in my direction, and I curse a slew of vitriol at him.

They lead me to a cell where there’s a woman sleeping on a rectangular bench. There’s a single toilet that looks filthy, but still cleaner than the worst dive in the East Village. I take the bench on the other side of the cell. I hate the way this place sounds, hollow and cold. Every metal surface rattles; every heavy boot echoes.

At least my daddy never had to see me like this. Getting my prints taken. Getting my mug shot filed. The light from the flash still dances in my vision.

That was my one call.

Why didn’t I call Hutch?

“
What
?” I ask the officer still standing at the cell.

“Never booked anyone from New York City,” he says.

He chews gum like a cow, and watches me like I’m something out of the Coney Island Freakshow.

“Here’s a little something from the Big Apple,” I say, flipping him the bird. He just chuckles and walks away.

That’s good, real good. Now I’ll never get out of here.

I try shutting my eyes. They didn’t tell me when I’d be able to go. Honestly, I wasn’t really paying attention. I kept seeing the eyes that followed me down the hall into the police car. Two patients arrested with drugs, arson, and an employee sleeping with a patient—Helen’s going to have to face an internal investigation from the state, and soon.

I’ve been the girl who stumbles out of a bar, and I’ve been the girl who slinks away in the middle of the night. I don’t embarrass or humiliate easily, but this… this stings.

I’ve utterly fucked up. Not only that, but I was actually trying my hardest. I wanted to make things work. I wanted to get better. How many lives have I messed up with my actions? I feel everything inside me churning like gooey primordial soup. I run to the toilet. It’s metal and smells like old urine. I clutch the sides and puke. I taste bile and chocolate cake.

When I’m done, I wipe the back of my hand. I stay on the ground. Regret gives way to anger.

The anger stays.

The misery stays.

The loneliness clings to me like a cloak.

“Oh, goodie,” the woman on the bench says. “I’ve got company.”

I make a
hmph
noise and nod at her. Her hair is mussed up and her lipstick is smeared on her face. All things considered, she looks like she might’ve been beautiful once, before her life took her for a spin.

“Not a talker?” she asks. “That’s alright. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

I get up and go to my bench. I lie down and look at the ceiling, feeling worse by the second.

I actually tried, and this is where it got me.

“Let me guess,” she says. “Solicitation?”

“Why the fuck does everyone think I’m a hooker?”

That makes her laugh. It sounds like a motor revving. “I don’t. I just wanted you to talk.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“I’m in here because I took a bat to my dirtbag husband’s head. He’s alive, unfortunately. I was told I was ‘angry.’ Wouldn’t you be angry if you came home to find him getting a blow job from some little troll of a cunt from the trailer park?”

I picture an actual troll woman and laugh. “I’m sorry. That’s not funny.”

“I hope she gives him herpes.”

“That’s a little vicious.”

“Life’s a little vicious, darlin’. You gotta grow fangs if you don’t got any.”

I sit up and lean back against the cold metal bars. “Where’s he now?”

She shrugs. “Home. I spend every night bartending and he spends it pretending he’s out getting a job.”

“Well, technically he was.”

She smiles. “I like you. What’re you in for?”

“I was the fall guy,” I say softly. “And I was too stupid to see it coming.”

“You got a name?”

“River.”

“I’m Clara. Nice to meet’cha. Since we’re going to be in here a while, want to tell me about it?”

I groan. I’m tired of telling people my feelings. I’m tired of spilling my guts out only to be treated like a social experiment.

“No,” I say. “What I want is a cigarette.”

“I hear that.” She bangs on the bars. “Hey Sam! Sam! Get over here!”

A young guy, not one of the ones who arrested me, drags his feet. His uniform is too big for him, like he’s wearing a costume.

“What now?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Think you could spare two cigs for me and my friend River over here? I’ll get you a drink on the house next time you stop by.” She lifts her eyebrow in a way that brightens her whole face. Sam smiles at her, and fishes two cigarettes from his pack.

“Two drinks,” he says, holding them just out of her reach.

“Fine. But you better let me out here soon, ‘cause I want to shower before my shift starts.”

He lights them for us, not trusting us with a lighter, and walks away.

“You were always going to give him two drinks, weren’t you?” I inhale deeply, the smoke numbing my skin quite nicely.

“Yep. Can’t start high, though. Now, tell me. Nothing exciting ever happens here and I’m tired of thinking of my shitbag husband.”

“Not much to tell. I left New York before I could do more damage to myself. Came here and wound up in jail.”

“Ah,” she says. “One of those HCRC kids?”

“Yep. Except I’m not a kid.”

Her brow wrinkles. “Of course you are. You’ve still got a whole life ahead of you. You ain’t even gotten started, honey.”

I watch the smoke billow from my lips. It coils, like the anger in my heart. “I actually fucking tried!”

“You gotta try more than once, honey.”

I shake my head. I tell her about everything, even about Hutch. What do I care at this point?

“And now I’m here.” I take the last drag of my cigarette like it’s made of gold. “Isn’t that fucking hilarious? I should’ve stayed in New York.”

“By the sounds of that fella, you don’t really mean that.”

I don’t, but it feels good to make empty threats, the same way it feels good to make a wish. “Maybe it would’ve been better for him. I don’t want to drag him down with me. I’m like a rock sinking into the ocean.”

“Didn’t he already lose his job?”

“Yeah, but he’s not going to
jail
with me on some trumped up drug charges. I just—I just want to get my hands around that rat bastard Taylor.”

“You’d best leave it alone, honey. Trust me. Pretty little thing like you might end up dead, or worse.”

I scoff. “What’s worse than being dead?”

“Growing up so broken and crooked you don’t even recognize yourself.”

“Thanks, Clara. But I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

She flicks her cigarette butt into the toilet. “Seems like it’s about time you start asking for some help. Though you look as stubborn as the mules in my backyard.”

“Do you really have mules in your backyard?”

“I might, but now I’m not inviting you to visit them on account of your sassy mouth.”

We laugh for a little bit, and settle into our shared misery. Sam returns and lets Clara go free.

“Nice to meet you, River. If you get out of here, stop by and see me at the Golden Rose.”

I should tell her no. I should tell her that’s the last place a girl like me needs to be.

“I will.”

• • •

At some point, I fall asleep. I wake up with all of my muscles aching, and disoriented. I reach—I actually
reach
for Hutch’s body beside me. The reality of yesterday crashes around me like broken glass. I go to the sink and rinse out my mouth.

Sam walks back, a look of pity in his eyes. “River Thomas, you’ve made bail.”

My heart leaps to my throat when I see Hutch. I stop short of jumping into his arms. Before we leave, they explain to us that I have to appear before a judge in a week, and not leave town.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I tell Sam.

“Tell Clara I said hi,” he tells me.

“Tell her yourself.”

Hutch looks at me with confusion and a little bit of awe. “How did you manage to make friends in jail?”

“I just used what Ransom taught me.”

We get in his car. This isn’t the reunion that I wanted.

“I wanted to come sooner,” he says. “You should’ve called me, River.”

“Where’d you get the money to bail me out?”

“I put up my land as a property bond.”

“Hutch!”

“It’s fine. Just, don’t leave town, okay?” he tries to smile. “Simmons called me after they took you in. They wouldn’t let me see you at first.”

He’s here. Even though he wasn’t my one call.

“Helen called me. She said you were right, but by the time they went to get Taylor he was gone.”

“That’s my fault.”

“It’s my fault, River.”

“So Taylor is gone. You’re fired. I’m guessing I can’t go back.”

He makes a right onto a dark street. “Not right now. But we can find you another treatment center. You were so close to finishing. There are twenty-eight-day programs we could look into in Seattle.”

“Can you just—stop for a second?” I stare at the darkening road.

We don’t talk until we get to his house. His house that he put up as a bond for me. We head inside, and I decide to take a bath. I fill up the tub until I can fully submerge myself. I use his body wash to make bubbles. I hold my breath until it burns. I clean my skin until it’s red all over, but when I’m done and dry, I still feel dirty.

I put on the clothes he brought and find him sitting on his bed. This is the bed where everything started. I need to get up. I feel like a lion trapped in a cage as I walk around his house.

“River, please sit down. We have to talk.”

I sit beside him. I can only function in short bursts. “I need to get my stuff from HCRC.”

“Do you want to eat first?”

“No, I don’t want to eat first. I want my car. I want my things.”

He nods, an angry wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. We get in his truck and he goes ninety in a sixty-five zone. We’re there in no time. He hesitates to go in, but I tell him I need him with me, and he follows.

We’re like pariahs. We’re lepers. Everyone whispers about us. They’ve already trumped up rumors that I’m carrying twins, one from Randy and one from Hutch. I’m their new boogieman. I’m what happens when you break the rules. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’ll help others do better.

While Helen goes to the locker to get my things, Vilma and Jermania run up and hug me.

“We’ve got your back, River,” Vilma says. “I told Helen I was at the barn.”

“I told her Taylor tried to give me drugs in exchange for a blowjob,” Jermania says.

“Why didn’t you tell before?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

Isn’t that the same reason I gave? When did we learn to be so silent?

“Don’t you ladies have group?” Helen asks them. They make themselves scarce. Helen sets my box of things on the table. “River, I hope you understand why I can’t let you back in.”

I can feel myself starting to cry, so I scrunch up my face and bite my tongue to have a different feeling to concentrate on.

“The facility can’t afford that kind of—”

“Reputation,” I say, when she can’t find the word. Is that really all we’re worth? Our reputations?

I rummage through the box. There’s my flask. It sloshes when I give it a shake. My pain pills rattle in their orange containers. “Finally. I missed my eyelash curler. Where’s my phone?”

Helen looks confused. She goes over the list of things that were taken from me on arrival. “It was there…”