Read Online S'wanee: A Paranoid Thriller by Don Winston - Free Book Online
Authors: Don Winston
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Cody reminded her, as usual.
“Whatever works,” Marcie replied, on cue.
“So, yeah,” she continued, uncomfortable with words of wisdom. “You’re probably gonna drink. But don’t drink too much. It’s probably just beer anyway. You’ll have to learn your limits.”
Check.
“But Cody, don’t do drugs. Even pot. Don’t get started with that stuff.”
Next?
“Get enough sleep. You can’t stay up all night and be at your best.”
Okay.
“But get out and meet people. Meet your classmates. Get to know your professors. Get out of your room.”
Thanks, Arianna.
“Let’s see.” Marcie continued onto the next page. “Roommates. Nah, you’re not gonna have one…”
“What?” Cody stopped her. “How do you know that?”
“Oh.” Marcie looked up. “I don’t know that.” She sipped her wine, teething the ice, and went back to the page. “Respect their boundaries and ask the same in return.”
Arianna Huffington sounded like a real bore.
“And girls…”
Please God, not sex.
“Well, you’ll figure that out, won’t you?”
Whew.
“Yes, Mom,” Cody said, grateful.
“Or boys?” Marcie said, glancing up from the page. “We don’t judge.”
“No.” He shrugged. “Not boys.”
“I didn’t think so.” Marcie shrugged back. “But we don’t judge. Just be safe, no matter what. They taught you all that in school, right?”
Marcie put down the tip sheet and removed her glasses.
“Cody, here’s the deal. Here’s how it works in this country. Anything is possible. The opportunities are there. You go out and you grab them and you put them in your basket. That’s how you make your fortune here. You don’t worry about what others think of you, and you don’t look back.”
“Okay,” Cody said, unsure if she was talking to him or to herself.
“That’s how immigrants make it here. Always have. That’s how we do it.”
She burrowed back into the sofa.
“Just don’t hurt anybody.”
“I won’t,” Cody said, laughing.
Marcie seemed troubled, her mood shifting. “Come give your mother a hug.”
Cody leaned against Marcie, and she put her arm around him, stroking his hair.
“I’m going to miss you, Cody.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mom. But I’ll be back.”
“It won’t be the same. You’ll be different. I’ll miss you the way you are now.”
“I’ll be the same, Mom.”
Marcie didn’t respond. She just held him tighter as they stared at the blank television in silence.
Chapter Eight
I t poured rain on the big day.
“We should give ourselves extra time!” Marcie bellowed from the kitchen. “Joan says traffic’s a bitch today.”
Cody struggled to close his black Samsonite roller, praying the zipper wouldn’t break. He checked the flight one more time before shutting down his laptop and slipping it into the travel case for his orange backpack. Marcie had bought him one with extra padding for protection. He had changed shirts three times and settled on his favorite faded navy polo from Abercrombie with a red windbreaker on top.
He took one last look around his room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. It didn’t feel like leaving home; he was walking out of a room at an apartment building.
Maisy and Max, who had sensed change over the past few weeks, sat at attention in the living room, their heads cocked quizzically in unison. The change was here and now. Cody kneeled to stroke their heads, and they raised their noses for one last sniff to remember him by.
“Let’s go, kiddo!” Marcie called, already out the door. “Ticket? ID?”
Marcie refused to drop him off at the curb and pulled into the expensive short-term parking at Newark Liberty International. She was usually a nervous, jerky driver, but today she was focused and sure, even in the rain.
The tired, concrete,
Jetsons
-esque Newark terminals looked even gloomier in the downpour, and the late-summer travel crowds were massive, steamy, and testy.
Cody helped a Hasidic man
“Whatever works,” Marcie replied, on cue.
“So, yeah,” she continued, uncomfortable with words of wisdom. “You’re probably gonna drink. But don’t drink too much. It’s probably just beer anyway. You’ll have to learn your limits.”
Check.
“But Cody, don’t do drugs. Even pot. Don’t get started with that stuff.”
Next?
“Get enough sleep. You can’t stay up all night and be at your best.”
Okay.
“But get out and meet people. Meet your classmates. Get to know your professors. Get out of your room.”
Thanks, Arianna.
“Let’s see.” Marcie continued onto the next page. “Roommates. Nah, you’re not gonna have one…”
“What?” Cody stopped her. “How do you know that?”
“Oh.” Marcie looked up. “I don’t know that.” She sipped her wine, teething the ice, and went back to the page. “Respect their boundaries and ask the same in return.”
Arianna Huffington sounded like a real bore.
“And girls…”
Please God, not sex.
“Well, you’ll figure that out, won’t you?”
Whew.
“Yes, Mom,” Cody said, grateful.
“Or boys?” Marcie said, glancing up from the page. “We don’t judge.”
“No.” He shrugged. “Not boys.”
“I didn’t think so.” Marcie shrugged back. “But we don’t judge. Just be safe, no matter what. They taught you all that in school, right?”
Marcie put down the tip sheet and removed her glasses.
“Cody, here’s the deal. Here’s how it works in this country. Anything is possible. The opportunities are there. You go out and you grab them and you put them in your basket. That’s how you make your fortune here. You don’t worry about what others think of you, and you don’t look back.”
“Okay,” Cody said, unsure if she was talking to him or to herself.
“That’s how immigrants make it here. Always have. That’s how we do it.”
She burrowed back into the sofa.
“Just don’t hurt anybody.”
“I won’t,” Cody said, laughing.
Marcie seemed troubled, her mood shifting. “Come give your mother a hug.”
Cody leaned against Marcie, and she put her arm around him, stroking his hair.
“I’m going to miss you, Cody.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mom. But I’ll be back.”
“It won’t be the same. You’ll be different. I’ll miss you the way you are now.”
“I’ll be the same, Mom.”
Marcie didn’t respond. She just held him tighter as they stared at the blank television in silence.
Chapter Eight
I t poured rain on the big day.
“We should give ourselves extra time!” Marcie bellowed from the kitchen. “Joan says traffic’s a bitch today.”
Cody struggled to close his black Samsonite roller, praying the zipper wouldn’t break. He checked the flight one more time before shutting down his laptop and slipping it into the travel case for his orange backpack. Marcie had bought him one with extra padding for protection. He had changed shirts three times and settled on his favorite faded navy polo from Abercrombie with a red windbreaker on top.
He took one last look around his room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. It didn’t feel like leaving home; he was walking out of a room at an apartment building.
Maisy and Max, who had sensed change over the past few weeks, sat at attention in the living room, their heads cocked quizzically in unison. The change was here and now. Cody kneeled to stroke their heads, and they raised their noses for one last sniff to remember him by.
“Let’s go, kiddo!” Marcie called, already out the door. “Ticket? ID?”
Marcie refused to drop him off at the curb and pulled into the expensive short-term parking at Newark Liberty International. She was usually a nervous, jerky driver, but today she was focused and sure, even in the rain.
The tired, concrete,
Jetsons
-esque Newark terminals looked even gloomier in the downpour, and the late-summer travel crowds were massive, steamy, and testy.
Cody helped a Hasidic man
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