J. Wachowski - In Plain View

Jenny had not learned that trick yet. Whenever I saw her cross a room with the TV on, she’d lock eyes on the screen and freeze midstep. My sister had set all kind of rules about television time for her-how much, what channels, what time of day. Those rules had evaporated since I’d arrived. They were ancient history whenever Tonya took the remote in hand. Sometimes Jenny’s reaction bothered me, which was why I’d started getting her to count commercials and promos. I figured she’d grow out of it. I did notice after Tonya spent time with us, Jenny often chose to play on her own out in the yard or in the driveway. Through the glass door to the patio, I looked for Jenny. It was nearly dark outside and colder than it looked. No sign of her. I thought of Rachel. Who would be looking for her as dusk settled?

I buttoned my jacket and wandered into the backyard. Found her sitting in the birch tree-a big old tree, with papery white bark and leaves that September’s chilly nights had recast in sunlight yellow. In the gloaming, the white tree stood apart from the rest of the yard, melting into the dusk. The thickest bottom branch had grown almost horizontal to the ground. It’d be an easy climber.

“Hey. I’m home.”

Jenny looked down at me. “Hey. You’re home.”

“Kinda late to be climbing trees, isn’t it?”

No answer.

I switched to the imperative. “Time to come in. I’ve got to go into the station tonight and do some work. Pack up something to keep you busy and we’ll head over. I’ll show you around. Make some popcorn. There’s a video player. You’ll like it.”

“Okay.” She flipped onto her stomach and her feet twitched in the air, looking for a place to land. “Tonya’s leg was really hurting today. Why does her leg hurt because of her back?”

“The injured nerve starts in her back. It’s all connected.”

“That guy who died, the one in your picture, remember? Do you think it hurt?” She slipped down to the lowest limb and jumped.

“Huh?” I caught a breath, nervous and suddenly aware of dangers everywhere, the sharp stick pointing toward her face, the rock right behind her head, the smallness of her bones. My threshold for fearlessness had shifted; it made me irritable. “When?”

“You know, when he got dead.”

“Sure. I think it hurt.” I herded her toward the chili-pepper lights surrounding the backdoor. This line of questioning was definitely creeping me out.

“Yeah, me too.” Jenny didn’t sound surprised. “Once, I had to get this shot. A really big one ’cause I fell and there was this rusty can right there. Mom said I bled like a stuck pig.”

“Really? I never saw a stuck pig.”

Birch bark had left white streaks down her jeans and when she brushed her hood back, a chalky smear of white appeared on her temple and forehead, as well. Tonya had braided her hair as promised, and added a bead and feather frill to the plait beside her ear. She looked like an elf in the middle of some night-forest ritual. The thought gave me an urge to cross myself, something I hadn’t felt in years.

“Mom said it was a lot of blood. The shot was huge and I was scared, so the doctor was like holding my arm, really tight, and then Mom said ‘Jenny?’ and pinched my leg really hard.”

“What’d you do?”

“Said ‘ow.’”

Conversations with eight-year-olds can be very Zen.

“Right. Why’d your mom pinch you?”

“She said it’s impossible to feel more than one pain at a time.” Jenny bumped me with her shoulder as we walked along. “Do you think that’s really true?”

“Impossible to feel more than one pain at a time?” Un-fucking-likely. “Your mom was the nurse, she should know.” My skin started to prickle. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just thinking,” she answered and wouldn’t look me in the eye.

We passed under the red twinkle of lights and into the cool glare of the television.

Jenny froze, mesmerized by the screen. My hand floated over her head and settled between her shoulders near the top of her spine as if we were caught in slow-pause.

No pinch could camouflage what she felt. What Rachel felt. What we all felt.

I patted her gently instead. The words echoing back to me, it’s all connected.

7:51:43 p.m.

“My mom used to take me to work with her all the time,” Jenny called to her aunt from the back seat.

It was dark outside. The radio was off. Aunt Maddy turned it off. She was trying to think. Jenny was trying not to think. The car door was too cold to lean on. Jenny’d packed her pillow and her Nintendo and her softie pig in her backpack, but Aunt Maddy had put everything in the trunk.

“Used to take you to work, huh?” her aunt repeated eventually.

“Yeah. It was fun. There were machines with food and ice cream and stuff. And a cafeteria, too.” Jenny looked out the window. At a stop light, the pretty lady in the car next to them smiled at her. It was so surprising Jenny didn’t smile back quick enough; the light changed and the lady drove away.

“Sounds like an Ainsley Prescott tour.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“How long do you have to work?” Jenny asked.

“We’ll see.”

“Do you like work?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny was quiet after that. She picked her finger and bit the skin next to the nail. Nobody ever told her not to anymore, so all her fingers had rough spots that were good for catching between her front teeth. Aunt Maddy didn’t like to talk. She liked to ask questions. She liked to listen sometimes and watch people. She wasn’t too chatty, though.

The TV station was far away in an empty place. The antenna had a red light that Jenny could see. Slowly, they got closer.

“I got to ride in an ambulance once. When I went to meet my mom at work,” she mentioned. “It was a special deal.”

“Really?”

Jenny could tell she didn’t care. She bit her thumb skin until she felt a warm prickle of blood. It never hurt when she made it bleed. Sometimes it hurt later though. Lots of things were like that.

Aunt Maddy parked and popped the trunk. Jenny felt better when she had her backpack in her hands.

“I want to carry it,” she said. “Don’t put it in the trunk any more. Please.”

“Sure, Jen, whatever,” her aunt said.

Inside the station was actually not so bad. No weird people. All the lights were on, so it wasn’t scary. And there were TVs everywhere. Every room had one; some had more than one. The editing room where Aunt Maddy had to do her work had a whole mess of them, but they were all mini-sized.

“Come on.” Her aunt led the way down the hall. Jenny hurried to keep up. “There’s a couch in the break room and a VCR. You can watch a movie.”

“Where are you going to be?”

The break room had a cabinet with snacks next to the fridge. Her aunt grabbed a package of popcorn. “I’ll be in the editing room. Where I just showed you.”

“Can’t I watch in there with you?” Jenny asked. The couch looked pretty scuzzy.

“No.” Maddy slammed the microwave door and hit the power button. “You’ll be fine here, kiddo. I’ll be right down the hall.”

Jenny didn’t answer. Her heart started beating really hard, like she’d been running a monster lap in gym.

Aunt Maddy fumbled around with the video. The preview started and the familiar music helped Jenny catch her breath. She looked over at the screen and nodded.

“Look, the faster I get to work, the sooner we can go home. Here’s the popcorn. I’m right down the hall. Okay?”

“Okay.” She repeated the word because it was what her aunt wanted and sometimes if you did what a grownup wanted for a while, they would give in and do what you wanted for once.