July 3rd had already been hectic enough, what with the custody hearing and the futures of Ramona, Alex, and Penny literally hanging in the balance. What’s more, Phoebe had her national anthem performance.
Her hair was styled and sprayed; a bright red hair-tie held it in place. Her prettiest dark blue dress hung from the seat belt hook. That meant everyone’s windows were shut tight. At least Phoebe’s car had air conditioning. Unfortunately, it barely worked.
Still, all of the Gatteaus managed to make it to Altoona alive and on time. Phoebe led them to the VIP Gate, where she met Mr. Tanner and VIP Staff. An usher took Phoebe’s family to a private box while Phoebe changed.
Phoebe didn’t have time to go upstairs to the VIP restrooms. Instead, she changed right in the public restrooms, stink and all. She managed to keep her dress and heels out of any puddles and made her way to the gate near the first base dugout. She fidgeted nervously as she watched the stands fill. She wasn’t nervous at all about the crowd, but she was unnerved by the anticipation of it all.
Finally, the P.A. stopped playing music and the announcer came over the loudspeakers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please give an Altoona Curve welcome for Miss Phoebe Gatteau!”
The crowd clapped and cheered.
“Go Phoebe!” shouted Portia. Her voice pierced through the applause. It almost took Phoebe out of the moment.
She stood behind the microphone, waiting for the crowd to settle. She cleared her throat as she cradled the microphone in her manicured fingers.
“Oh, say can you see?”
She raised her voice gradually until it filled the stadium. Words bounced off the aluminum and concrete furniture of the stadium, echoing in her ears a few moments later. Still, she did not let it affect her. Her voice filled the stadium by the end of the first verse. She let the reverb pound against her chest as she climbed through the chorus.
“One last verse,” she thought to herself.
Her arms swept upward in that familiar ‘V’ as Mr. Tanner looked on. He stood directly in front of her, his balled fists clenching and pulling up in front of his chest. He released them in an upward thrust as she hit the familiar last crescendo.
“And the home of the brave!”
The crowd whooped and cheered; some were just happy to get on with the game, but most were happy to hear a good clean rendition of the old English drinking song unfit for singing.
She bowed and quickly jogged to the gate where Mr. Tanner waited.
“You knocked it out of the park!” he exclaimed.
“I know, I know!”
As she went up with Mr. Tanner to join her family, Phoebe was greeted and congratulated by handfuls of people. Kids even wanted her autograph. She joyfully signed her name on the program next to minor league ballplayer’s signatures. Although none of the kids would be able to figure out whose signature it was even a year later, it didn’t matter to Phoebe. Today, she was famous.
Mrs. Gatteau and the girls sat in the back on the return trip while Alex drove and his father sat shotgun.
“Well, that was a good day,” reassured Mr. Gatteau.
“It definitely could have been worse.”
“We’ll get you a good lawyer and we’ll get Penny back, okay?”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, I’ll make a game plan and it’ll all work out.”
Alex turned the radio on. It faded in and out as he traveled through the mountain passes from Altoona to Pittsburgh. Before too long, he was the only one awake, deep in thought.
“Come on,” said Alex, poking his little sister on the shoulder. He had already dropped off Phoebe and his parents. He carried Portia inside and tucked her into bed.
“Sweet dreams, sweetpea.”
“Good night, Alex.”
Portia and Alex celebrated Independence Day alone. It was primarily Alex’s choice, but Portia wanted to be free and clear of the drama, too. Hanging out with her bigger brother was sure to be the cure.
They spent the afternoon milling about at Union Square, right in the middle of downtown. Crowds gathered steadily as the afternoon passed. Just before sunset, Alex decided to leave the river front.
“Why don’t we stay here for the fireworks?” asked Portia.
“You know how bad the traffic is afterwards. How about we find a place up near Mount Washington?”
“Across the river? That’ll be even worse.”
“Trust me, sis.”
They crossed the river and passed by Overlook Park. It was, or course, packed with spectators. Cars lined the streets. Alex pulled into an empty parking space behind a row of houses. It came complete with a ‘No Parking’ sign.
“Trust me,” he said as they headed to Overlook Park. The crowd thickened as they neared the park’s edge.
“Look,” he said proudly, “We can see that baseball park and three rivers. This is the best view in town.”
They squeezed between two blanket-sized parcels of temporary ownership, where people had squatted for hours. Alex made quick friends with those who owned the blankets, getting a friendly spot to watch the fireworks in return.
As they arrived back at their car, it was safe and sound. The alley behind the houses, however, was jam-packed and it was still a long trip home, just over an hour.
Still, it got Alex’s mind off his trouble until the next morning, when Mrs. Jones visited him again at work.
“Alex,” said stated, “I’m here to help you, not harm you. You’ve got a stable job and you’ve proven you can raise Penny on your own. It was a stroke of luck that I caught Ramona now and not a few months earlier.”
“What are my chances of getting Penny back?”
“Overall, they’re pretty good. I can sit with you sometime and we can create an action plan. It details how you will handle different issues that may come your way when raising Penny. Does that sound like something you want to do?”
“Of course it is.”
“Then we’ll have to start with a repayment schedule. It’s going to be somewhat of a financial burden, but I think we can negotiate with the judge.”
“How much of a burden?”
“They’re likely to take about one-third out of each paycheck.”
“I don’t think that shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” replied Alex.
He was talking with his heart and not his head. Bills were bills and responsibilities were responsibilities. Just like death and taxes, they were truly unavoidable.
Alex left the conference with his head held high, as determined as ever. First, he found Jim Barber, the warehouse foreman.
“Jim, I just talked to the lady for social services, right?”
Jim nodded.
“They’re going to take quite a bit out of my paycheck. Is there any way I can get some extra hours?”
“You know they won’t allow us to give you overtime, Alex.”
“Yeah, but maybe we could find a way around that.”
“You know we’re on the up-and-up, here.”
Alex worked every minute he could, slipping into overtime. The paymaster, however, would trim the hours back to exactly forty hours, per the company policy manual, that clearly stated the strict prohibition on unapproved overtime.
While Alex searched for more money, Portia searched for more time. The mini-break was over. Both school and work called for all of her time. She carefully juggled the two, an adept balance of responsibilities, saving the little bit of free time for sleeping and eating.
Whenever
“Hey, you look busy,” said a voice, interrupting her focus on her studies. It was Wendy
“You can always sit with me.”
“I gotta go to class, but I saw you here so I stopped. You’re really starting to show.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Portia, patting her tummy, “I’m ready for it to be over.”
“How far along?”
“Just five months.”
Wendy laughed whole-heartedly, “You’re not even into the sleepless nights and morning sickness.”
“I know.”
“How does Marcus feel about it?”
Portia sighed.
“What?”
“It’s not his.”
“Do you know whose it is?”
Portia nodded.
“You going to get married?”
“Nah.”
“He doesn’t want to?”
“No, he’s totally into it. I’m the one who doesn’t want to get married.”
“You have to have a father.”
“I know, but…”
“Think about it, seriously.”
Wendy glanced up at the clock. It was ten minutes past the hour.
“I gotta go. I’m late for class.”
“Alright. Talk to you later.”
“Remember what I said, Portia, you have to have a father.”
Wendy rushed off, leaving Portia with her mess of textbooks. She flipped through the pages for a little while longer.
Finally, she caught the crosstown bus to work. And, as if by cue, Darren showed up at the pet store.
“Darren, you know I can’t have visitors.”
“I know, but maybe I’m shopping for my pet.”
“You don’t have any pets at the apartment.”
“Maybe I want a new pet.”
“Like what?” she asked dubiously.
“Maybe I want…” he lingered over his choices, “Maybe I want a tarantula.”
“Nobody wants a tarantula.”
“Why not?”
“You buy tarantulas to freak other people out. They are the most boring pets in the store. Even snails are more exciting.”
“Ha! I hardly believe that.”
“Snails slither. Snails move. Snails sometimes escape. Tarantulas just sit there, waiting for you to toss them a cricket. After a while, they figure out crickets aren’t going to escape. Plus, they don’t last long. It’s the biggest waste of money.”
Darren crossed his arms and looked Portia over.
“What do you suggest?”
“Birds, of course.”
“I don’t think I’d like a bird.”
“Birds are the most marvelous of machines. Man has tried time and time again to recreate the mechanics of bird biology, all with disastrous results. In fact, they’ve never even come close.”
Darren grinned at her.
“What?”
“You’ve really got it for birds, huh?”
“I already told you that.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen anyone so passionate about anything like you are for birds.”
“Come hell or high water, I’m going to be an ornithologist.”
“The world needs an ornithologist just like you.”
When Darren switched the topic back from birds to flirting, Portia realized where she was again. This was work and there were to be no visitors at work, no matter what.
“Darren, I got to get to work.”
Darren looked around. There was nobody else in the store. Even Bill was at home.
“I have to inventory and clean the store.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I was just checking up on you.”
“I don’t really need you checking up on me at all.”
Darren had tested her limits enough. They said their good-byes and he left her there alone. It gave her ample time with her thoughts.
She wasn’t going to be like Ramona. She wasn’t going to abandon her child or rely on the government to help raise it, either. She supposed she could call on Darren – at least for some things. She’d need someone to watch the baby when she went to classes – especially if she wanted to get her Doctorate, like she always planned.
The shop closed a few long hours later. She’d done less than $20 in total receipts; truly a dismal evening. She shut off the lights and locked up. She waited for the crosstown bus. Just like the shop, it was absurdly empty. It was ‘a conspiracy of things’ she thought. Still, it was something to think about, even without the world’s silent input.
When she arrived at home, Alex was not there. She went to her room, turned on the radio and cracked open a book to study. She rested her head upon her fists, stacked one on top of the other. As she tried reading in the dimness of one book light, the words blurred and her fists slowly gave way, melting into two outstretched hands. She tipped her head and slept atop her book.
Meanwhile, Alex was still humming.
After work, he made a few stops at construction sites, to no avail. He then stopped to see Ace.
“Ace, I need another job.”
“Something wrong at the warehouse?”
“Not at all. I just need money.”
“You still want to be a mule?”
Alex shrugged.
“I can always use mules.”
“I’m not going to the Army Base again, am I?”
Ace shook his head, “We’ll get you going somewhere else.”
The word 'mule' always made Alex think of something more grandiose - and a lot more dangerous - like the overblown realities of fictional drug runners on crime dramas. He thought of things like drug runners swallowing a dozen balloons of horse to get across the border or sewing a few kilos into the fabric of suitcases. Regardless of the realities, somewhere else didn't sound any more promising that Carlisle Barracks.
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