Sisters in the Wind(64)
Was I that easy to read? Was she that observant? Or was I that sloppy?
“You acted different last week, shutting me out and—”
“Because you’re cheating on TJ with Jamie,” I blurt, unable to contain my utter disappointment.
My outburst stops Daunis cold. Her brow furrows. Then she connects the dots.
“Lucy, I broke up with TJ when I went home last time. I told you that he and I don’t lie to each other. I told him everything. Then I waited a week or so before talking to Jamie.” She looks hurt. “You really thought I cheated?”
I look down at my hands. “I … uh … I thought you were perfect, and then you weren’t.”
“I’m not perfect. I’m as flawed as anyone. But I learned a long time ago that we can love imperfect people, and that includes ourselves.”
Daunis is the wisest person I know. But she’s referencing loving herself despite some flaws and imperfections.
What about criminal acts? She hasn’t sinned like I have.
* * *
Back at the hotel suite, Jamie sets boundaries for when he’s my attorney and when he’s my kinda-sorta big brother. Scheduling appointments seems over the top to me. That is, until I realize the benefit of compartmentalizing my life. It’s a relief to know that when we watch television, my attorney won’t start discussing defense strategies.
Our first attorney-client appointment takes place the morning after I’m released from the county jail. Daunis remains in the living room while Jamie and I meet in his office. He’s added a trifold screen separating his workspace from the rest of the bedroom, and a sound machine next to the door separating his room from our suite so Daunis cannot hear what we talk about. Jamie says this is necessary to maintain attorney-client confidentiality. I’m supposed to feel free to discuss anything with my attorney, Mr. John B. Jameson, during these appointments. The rest of the time, he’s Jamie—my boss and friend.
My attorney cuts to the chase.
“The state’s arson investigator found traces of the explosive inside your backpack.”
“But … but…” I try to make sense of the news. “But my backpack was near the pipe bomb, right?”
“They can tell the difference between residue external to the backpack versus residue from inside the backpack.”
“Then someone must have put it inside my backpack,” I say, hearing how ridiculous it sounds.
“They also found traces of the explosive in your apartment.”
“That’s bullshit,” I rage. “I cleaned that place from top to bottom. You know how good I clean stuff. I didn’t leave behind so much as a fingerprint.”
“There’s more,” he warns. “The pipe used for the bomb is identical to the discarded pipes lying around the yard at your apartment.”
“You know I’m being set up,” I fume.
“Yes, Lucy, I know that. Now I need to know why.”
I want to tell Jamie more than anything, but it would change the way he sees me. People who do the things I did don’t deserve the kindness of people like him.
Jamie adds, “I requested a copy of your caseworker files from the state.”
The files tell part of the story. Not everything.
“I have a juvenile record. I used fireworks to blow up my stepmother’s storage unit. I was accused of setting fire to my first foster parent’s cabin. And…”
Just like Jamie, I postpone saying the difficult things until there’s no other choice. Until I’m crying so hard and loud that Daunis bursts into the room to help me. Because she loves imperfect me. But there are some actions that are unforgivable.
“I set a fire that killed one of my foster brothers.”
WHEN I WAS SEVENTEEN
2007
From the Cheboygan Daily Tribune:
House Fire Claims Life of Northern Michigan Man
October 19, 2007
A 19-year-old Cheboygan man has died after a house fire Thursday night. The Cheboygan County Fire Department responded to a call from a neighbor around 10:30 p.m. The house was fully engulfed in flames by the time fire and first responder crews arrived at the scene, according to the fire chief. Inclement weather earlier in the day, including a tornado, impacted the response time. Fire personnel located one victim, who was pronounced dead at the scene. No other residents were home.
The victim was identified as Steven Sterling. The cause of the fire is under investigation.
* * *
On June 6, Tonya gave birth to Jennifer and Allen’s son, Allen, Jr. There was no drama during labor as with Emily. Tonya’s water broke the day after her due date. The younger Mister and Missus took her to the hospital. The next day, they brought Baby Allen and Tonya home.
Allen said it was the best twenty-fifth birthday present.
Tonya returned to the single bedroom she had enjoyed during pregnancy. The plan had been for her to breastfeed the baby for six months. During that time, Tonya would work with her caseworker on transitioning out of foster care when she turned eighteen years old.
The plan hit a snag when Tonya had difficulty with breastfeeding. She also expected the special treatment she received during pregnancy to continue. It resulted in a bizarre situation where Jennifer and Allen took care of Baby Allen in their new home, and Mister and Missus took care of Tonya at the farmhouse.