Lisa Djahed - Bee Stanis 01- The Foolish Stepmom (2 page)

“Yes, Pam seemed good for Drew.” I added. Pam was quite a character but seemed to be good for Drew, bright red hair and all.

“Do you know how to contact Pam?” the officer asked.

“Sorry officer we’re just not that helpful.” His question seemed odd to me, left me thinking, do neighbors usually have all different phone numbers for their neighbors,
were we just slackers for neighbors?

“What
happens now officer, to Drew?” Where did you take a
dead body? I don’t even know who, if anyone, would make any funeral arrangements?

“We’ll take the body in for testing, toxicology and then release him to
Strunk’s funeral home.” The officer clearly liked us because he seemed to give out this information reluctantly.

“Well thank you for your help, here’s my
card, call me if you remember anything else about the day.”

“What’s going to happen to Jesse?” I asked.

“We’ll take him down for further questioning, and then probably take him in.” My heart just dropped. Jesse back in jail. Yes, he was eighteen but barely so, yes he had done something very, very stupid but jail, adult jail for little muffin head. Ben could see I was upset.

“Babes, there’s nothing we can do.” He said, with a little warning in his voice, he knew I had a soft spot for Jesse and maybe he resented it a little, since I didn’t much extend myself to the teen in my own house, but rather to the teen next door.

I saw Officer Krumpke go talk to another cop and then go across the street to Floyd’s house, he was obviously canvassing. That was my cue. I needed to check on Julie and her lice. Getting lice at age 14 is truly a disaster of epic proportions. Because we all know how completely
vital absolutely perfect hair is to teen girls. A bad hair day is cause for
national concern. The thing about Julie is not only 1) did she probably hate my existence 2) was a typical teen girl but that 3) I wasn’t ready to totally give up on her, or her and I. It is hard to hold out hope that someone will love you. That if you are polite enough, patient enough, do enough favors, that surely that is enough to turn the tide. But the truth is, it hasn’t so far. Not with Julie. I did my best to hide it from Ben. I didn’t really want him to be aware that I felt such a big rift with her, but it was hard, she kept battering that ram, making it so very public.

“Liz, can you finally help me finish?” Asked snot
-job, I mean Julie. Every other word was dragged out, emphasizing that surely I was loafing on my stepmom job. (Feet up, sipping wine: lordy-loo how I wished that was true.) And of course, she didn’t call me “Bee” like Yaz but the more formal, “Liz”. I still hated that. It was like a grate against a chalkboard. I so wanted an affectionate name in my own house, yes my name was “Elizabeth” Liz for short and yes I was “Step-mom” but at
least “Bee” or “Bean” like Yaz sometimes calls me has a little special feeling. “Liz” just seems so adult, so formal, so step-mom-ish
.

“Jules, after we finish, can you check the washer and put the clothes in the dryer or your jeans won’t be done for morning.”

“My name is JULIE and my jeans have to be done, those are the only jeans I can wear tomorrow.” As in, the world will collapse if she wears something other than her jeans on Mondays
.
It is so hard for me to remember back to teen-hood
.
I just remember the pain of it. I think girls spend a lot of time in emotional pain which is why they lash out so much. I guess teen boys too. I remember what my friend Carol told my niece who was ten at the time, she said “get ready for the worst years of your life, but don’t worry, they do end.” It was an awful and beautiful thing to say and my niece, now 20 remembers it to this day. And that is what I have to remind myself, Jules, I mean JULIE is going through the worst years of her life
.
If I repeat that like a mantra I won’t have to
remember not to “Sweat the Small Stuff” (yeah right.) I still think it is full of hullaballoo. It is all about the small stuff.

Ben called out for me again. I don’t think he had been in the house once since the situation next door developed. Leave it up to him to get in the thick of things.

“Babes, come out here will you?” He asked, with a tone of concern in his voice.

I walked out, lice comb and towel in hand and just as I saw them putting Jesse into the police car, Ben said, “
they are taking Jesse, honey, they are taking him in.”

And that’
s when my Sunday night ended, alls I could see from that point forward was the anguish in Jesse’s face. Father dead, headed to the police station, no mom around, and he looked at me and was crying and I dropped what I was holding for want of holding that poor boy in my arms. Poor little muffin head.

Chapter Two

I’m so glad my work is my respite. From my life. I’m lucky that way. Going from single girl to instant mom-hood and wife-ville was a pretty rough transition for me. I found that the hours between 9 and
3:30 when the girls got home, were my hours of peace. My list making haven. I’d go in, get coffee, figure out what jobs to design that day, figure out what lists I needed to make to keep the engine of our life
oiled. Having to design posters for a living lightens things up. looking for an entire hour for the perfect smile out of thousands of stock photos of little children was a simple delight that I loved. My work brings me joy about 97% of the time and that is a true blessing.

On today’s list though there was a job I wasn’t looking forward to. And that was a call from Jesse, from jail. He called last night and asked if we could allow him to call us collect from jail. Ben and I agreed, especially because no one had yet tracked down his mom, something about a Bahama cruise. Her ex-husband is dead, her son in jail and she’s off cruising the Caribbean with her boy toy.
Lordy loo. These women. it is enough to drive you mad. Especially, if, like me, you are unable to have children. So those women who do and who can, with ease, and proliferate the world with spawn they don’t then take care, drives me nearly to drink. And sometimes nearly isn’t part of the equation. Hello chardonnay.

They were supposed to be transferring Jesse to Stark’s- the maximum security facility about 40 minutes north. It was where he was held when the first arrested him over a year ago. Back then, Drew had asked that we go with him. He couldn’t drive he was too upset to be
visiting his son in jail. That’s the thing you don’t think about when a young kid goes wrong, the heartbreak that the parent feels. The guilt. The questions. We saw it all that ride back and forth from jail. Drew questioning himself, where did he go wrong. I remember how small Jesse looked behind that glass, on that weird TV monitor. He looked small and defeated not big and tough.

And there was another aspect that was troubling. And that was Drew’s death and what caused it. I knew Drew was depressed, I mean, his son was on house arrest, but I couldn’t see him killing himself, I just couldn’t. I knew Hollywood starlets overdosed with pain meds trying to quell their emotional pain but someone Drew wasn’t that bad. I guess you never really know, but recently Drew had been dating again. I mean, dating in the flamboyant, I’ve been cooped up for too long kind of way. His latest conquest was Pam, an older woman, with flame red
hair who was no lady. Lately Drew seemed to be having fun. Poor Drew. There was just no way he off’ed himself.

That was what Ben and I decided as we
laid in bed talking before sleep last night. There was something I read, one of those relationship self help books, that said the most important 10 minutes of your day happen as you wake up and as you go to sleep. That if couples spent time talking and praising each other and connected during those most important minutes that you’d feel connected throughout the day .I don’t know if it is entirely true, those broad sweeps of generalizations always raised my hackles, but it worked true enough for us. Ben and I decided most things in those last ten minutes of the day, holding each other, cuddling with our dog.

“There’s no way Drew committed suicide,” I had said.

“Even Jesse doesn’t believe it, he said he and his dad had been getting along ok and his dad seemed happy with Pam.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe it” added Ben taking a little too much of the covers for my taste.

“If he didn’t off himself intentionally, than maybe accidentally,” I pondered.

“Drew just didn’t seem like the pill popping kind of guy.” Ben was right, Drew worked at one of the large engineering tech firms in the area, made decent money,
was a bit of a nerd. Nerds don’t pill pop do they?

“Well if he didn’t do intentionally or accidentally, what happened?” As soon as I said it, the question hung in the air taking up it is own space. Because we both knew what that meant, Drew was poisoned or fed the pills by someone else. Jesse? No way.
The ex-wife? But no, she was away. Who else? With that question between us we both drifted off.

That next afternoon as I looked for an image of a stressed out man on my online stock photo house, the call from Jesse came. I knew it was him from both the caller ID and the recorded message at the beginning. After accepting charges, he was put through.

“Jesse, how are you holding up?” “Did you hear, dad’s dead?”

“I’m so sorry Jesse. Do they know anything else?”

“They’ve been questioning me all night, apparently there was blood on the pillow and they are wondering if he was hurt on purpose.”

“Oh no Jesse, how awful.
What are they saying.”

“That maybe it wasn’t an overdose, that maybe he was killed.” “Oh Jesse, we just have to take it one step at a time.” “No, Bee, you don’t understand, they think I did it. At least
that’s why they are keeping me.”

“Oh Jesse, that’s ridiculous, you told me last week when you were cleaning up the front of the house that you and your dad were getting along. This is just a big mistake. They have to have a reason to hold you, is there going to be a hearing?”

“No Bee, it is not a mistake. At least they don’t think so. I’m going to be arraigned in the morning for violation of community control.”

“Where are you, are you in holding still?”

“They have me in a maximum security place, with two other guys, who are big.”

“Oh Jesse, just hang on. Have you spoken with your lawyer?” Drew had hired a big gun of a lawyer to get Jesse’s sentence reduced to a juvenile crime but because of the amount of pot they found, he was sentenced to a year house arrest and five
year’s probation, with adjudication withheld.

“He won’t take the violation without more money.”
Of course. You couldn’t even call a lawyer these days without first giving your
credit card number for a retainer. And how was Jesse supposed to get money, with Drew dead.

“Jesse, who is going to take care of things, the estate, that kind of thing?”

“I guess my mom, when they find her. Can you go to the gym that Ray works at and find out if he left a number? I need her here
.
” Jesse sounded so sad.

“Of course, it’s the
Workout World on Malabar right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Jess, you don’t need to thank me, what else can we do for you?”

“Is there any
way I could get some commissary money, I just need $20 to get some candy bars.”

“Sure Jess, we’ll put it in tonight.” Just then the two minute warning lady came on to tell us to wrap it up.

“We have to go now Jess, you take care of yourself, keep to yourself, pray if you can, this will all work out. We’ll get through this, we’ll find your mom and it will all be over soon.” I could strangle his mom for abandoning him this way.

“Bye Bee, thanks for the commissary.”

Poor Jess. Eighteen, in prison, in maximum security like he’s some dangerous criminal. He had two pot plants growing in his backyard and was caught dealing to a 17 year old kid who ratted him
out. It was a felony charge, third degree. Five to seven years in prison. By the grace of god it was reduced .I hate to see stupidity treated like a crime. There is a difference between being plain dumb and being malicious. Jesse was not malicious.

Not like Julie. Woops, did I say that out loud? It was time for me to pick her up and take her to dance class. She was studying dance only to improve her chances to get on the Junior Varsity Cheerleading Squad. After a failed attempt in ninth grade, she wanted to be on the squad so bad but didn’t want to put in any effort. It took all of our persuasive powers and some bribery to get her to try it again, with training this time. Ben and I were concerned about her, about her willingness to give up things because they were too hard. We were trying to teach her a lesson about perseverance, but I’m not sure it was really sinking in.

Does anything you say to a teen sink in? Or do they just hear “blah, blah, blah, blah, blah”?

I pulled up to the front of the school.

“Your late.” Nice greeting and how are you my lovely step daughter from hell.

“Well, sorry, Jesse called and I had to take the call. How was your day?” Oh lovely child. Ben had to work on my sarcastic baiting of Julie. I used to snip back when she snipped at me and soon enough: cat fight. Ben “trained” me not to take the bait, but I can still think sarcastic thoughts at her. He can’t stop me in my own head.

“Fine.”

“What’s going on with Jesse? Is he getting out? Do they think he killed Drew?” that was the most that Julie had talked to me in months.

“No he didn’t kill Drew, Drew died of an overdose, we think. But no, he’s not getting out.”

And that was that. The extent of our “girl” talk for the 14 minutes it took to get to class. Ben was always trying to get me to bond more with Julie. But it is like pulling teeth with a broken rusty plumber’s wrench.
Beyond painful.

After I dropped off Ms. Snot Breath- “see you in an hour” followed by a “
hurrmph” on her part, I drove the five minutes to Workout World. The local strip club atmosphere gym that Ray, Bev’s boy toy, worked at. I was never a fan of co-ed gyms, there’s just too much testosterone looking for a landing pad for my taste. Give me an all girls gym with rich little ole ladies any day. But pump iron and trot on the treadmill in too tight clothes, yuck city.

“Welcome to
Workout World.” Said a half naked teen with gum in her mouth and her phone in the other (yes she was TNT, texting and talking).

“Well welcome to
yourself, I’m trying to find a guy named Ray, who works here, I need to get a hold of him somehow.”

“Ray. Ray. We don’t have a Ray. Today it is just me at the front desk.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he works here, and no, not at the front desk, he’s a trainer but not today, in fact, I think he’s away but could
you ask someone who might know.” Cause clearly you don’t have a clue
Ms. Half-naked TNT.

She looked up at me with daggers in her eyes. I was actually going to make her get up from her chair. What is it with me and teen girls that they hate me
so. Do I have an anti-teen tattoo on my head?

“How can I help you?”
Said an overly ON, well styled, well built blond. The kind you should hate just out of principle.

“I’m looking for Ray, he’s a trainer here.”

“Ray is here, he’s with a client now” she pointed as my jaw dropped. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be on a cruise with Bev, the mom-hussy.

I stumbled out
a “I’ll wait until he’s done, do you know how long.” While trying to figure out what to say to Mr. Hunk-a-doo male hussy on wheels.

“He should only be another ten minutes. I can get you his card. Did you want a tour until he’s done?” Ms. Perfection gave my outfit and

self a little up and down trying to figure out my weight or more precisely how long it would take me on one of those treadmills to lose the extra
15 or 45 pounds I was carrying.

“No thanks, I’ll be over here.” I looked over in the direction of Mr. Hunk-a-do and he was looking at me. Gulp. It was good news though, if he was around, so would Bev be and that meant Jesse could go stay with her instead of being held in jail.

After an eternity of having to watch tight buns left and right make their buns even tighter, and after checking my grocery list about eighteen thousand bagillion times, Mr. Hunk-a-doo seemed ready.

“Ray,” I called to him as he was walking away. He looked back and gave me the same up and down Ms. Perfect did. By his estimation, I’d need about 12 training sessions with him to lose my extra package
.

“Yes, I’m Ray,” he said in a voice that was almost comically deep.

“I’m Elizabeth, I live next door to Drew, and I’m looking for
Bev,” it took him a little bit to be wary, but wary he was.

“I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her since Friday night.”

“Weren’t you two on a cruise?”

“Yes, but what business is that of yours- we got back on Friday” he said getting snotty.

“Well there’s been some trouble and Jesse needs Bev, do you have her number or a way I could get a hold of her.”

“With Jesse there is ALWAYS trouble” he said and continued to stand there NOT reaching for a pen or paper or his phone. Clearly he didn’t like Jesse, or the fact that I lived next to Drew, probably thought I was on Drew’s side, which, by the by, I was.
Or had been.

“Listen, Jesse really needs his mom, I’m not fooling, you’ll probably find out anyway, but yesterday Drew was found dead.”

“And Jesse did it?” He said not missing a beat. “No, why on earth would you say that?”

“Well they hated each other.”

“No, they didn’t. I should know I see them both every day.” This whole thing was getting way to confrontational, Mr. Hunk-a-doo was earning a new nickname, Mr. Annoying Arse.