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Authors: Philip Hemplow
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Someone was watching a daytime talk show by the sounds of it. Either they couldn’t hear her, or they were deliberately ignoring her. Irritated, Carla left the porch and started pushing her way through the tall grass at the side of the house.
The sitting room drapes were drawn shut but there was still a gap that Carla could see through, thanks to numerous missing or broken curtain rings. The gloom within was relieved only by the cycling colours of the television screen. Mr Taub was slumped in an armchair, still wearing the raincoat and sandals he had worn at the hospital the day before. His jaw hung slackly and his puffy eyes were glazed, staring in rapt, unblinking fascination at the increasingly shrill argument being played out on-screen.
Carla was about to tap on the glass when she heard another window creaking open. Stepping back she looked up to see Gary Taub’s head emerging from what she presumed, based on the frosted glass, was an upstairs bathroom. She waved to him, and was about to call up when she realised that he was frantically gesturing for her to be quiet. He stabbed his finger urgently towards the street and then held up his forefinger.
Her car? One minute. Carla mouthed the words and the teenager nodded emphatically, and disappeared from view. She shrugged and trudged back to the Honda. It was Gary she wanted to talk to, not his parents. If she could question him in the car without having to square off against Mrs Taub again, it would be a bonus.
The teenager emerged from the house a couple of minutes later, looking around the deserted garden and street furtively as he jogged towards the car and got into the back seat.
“Drive!” he hissed, slamming the door too hard. “If my mom sees you out here she’ll throw a fit!”
“OK. Where to?” asked Carla, turning the key.
“Who gives a fuck? Just drive!”
Carla sighed, released the handbrake and pulled away from the kerb. In the rear view mirror she could see Gary, sitting as low as he could, with his hood up for extra concealment. He caught her looking at him and stared back as coldly as he could in an unconvincing display of teen bravado. “Hey, lady, you got any cigarettes?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“We should stop so I can get cigarettes.”
He was testing the boundaries, seeing how far he could push her. “Later. We can do that later. Maybe. Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”
Gary snorted. “`S obvious why you’re here. You’re here to stick your nose into other peoples’ business like you types always do. Ain’t none of you got a clue.”
“Actually” replied Carla, airily, “I thought we might go to church.”
Gary stared at her in the mirror. “Church?”
“Yes, the Evangelical Order of David? I thought you could take me to meet the minister there.”
Behind her, the boy threw his hands up demonstratively, and lunged for the door handle. “Stop the car!”
“I can’t stop here.”
“Stop the fucking car, lady!” He was screaming now.
“Oh, stop acting like a baby!” snapped Carla. “I’m not stopping here and that’s that.”
“Lady, I’m not going back to that fuckin’ church, and if you –“
“It’s not “lady”, it’s `doctor’”, she corrected him. “And if you really don’t want to go to the church then fine, I’ll drop you off.”
“Fine! Good!”
“Provided you tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you don’t want to go.”
Gary stared at her in the mirror for long seconds before slumping back in his seat and turning to stare out of the window, arms folded. The silent treatment. Great. Carla wondered if she’d been this obnoxious when she was in her teens. She persisted with the interrogation, keeping an eye on him in the mirror.
“Is it that you’re afraid of the
The sitting room drapes were drawn shut but there was still a gap that Carla could see through, thanks to numerous missing or broken curtain rings. The gloom within was relieved only by the cycling colours of the television screen. Mr Taub was slumped in an armchair, still wearing the raincoat and sandals he had worn at the hospital the day before. His jaw hung slackly and his puffy eyes were glazed, staring in rapt, unblinking fascination at the increasingly shrill argument being played out on-screen.
Carla was about to tap on the glass when she heard another window creaking open. Stepping back she looked up to see Gary Taub’s head emerging from what she presumed, based on the frosted glass, was an upstairs bathroom. She waved to him, and was about to call up when she realised that he was frantically gesturing for her to be quiet. He stabbed his finger urgently towards the street and then held up his forefinger.
Her car? One minute. Carla mouthed the words and the teenager nodded emphatically, and disappeared from view. She shrugged and trudged back to the Honda. It was Gary she wanted to talk to, not his parents. If she could question him in the car without having to square off against Mrs Taub again, it would be a bonus.
The teenager emerged from the house a couple of minutes later, looking around the deserted garden and street furtively as he jogged towards the car and got into the back seat.
“Drive!” he hissed, slamming the door too hard. “If my mom sees you out here she’ll throw a fit!”
“OK. Where to?” asked Carla, turning the key.
“Who gives a fuck? Just drive!”
Carla sighed, released the handbrake and pulled away from the kerb. In the rear view mirror she could see Gary, sitting as low as he could, with his hood up for extra concealment. He caught her looking at him and stared back as coldly as he could in an unconvincing display of teen bravado. “Hey, lady, you got any cigarettes?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“We should stop so I can get cigarettes.”
He was testing the boundaries, seeing how far he could push her. “Later. We can do that later. Maybe. Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”
Gary snorted. “`S obvious why you’re here. You’re here to stick your nose into other peoples’ business like you types always do. Ain’t none of you got a clue.”
“Actually” replied Carla, airily, “I thought we might go to church.”
Gary stared at her in the mirror. “Church?”
“Yes, the Evangelical Order of David? I thought you could take me to meet the minister there.”
Behind her, the boy threw his hands up demonstratively, and lunged for the door handle. “Stop the car!”
“I can’t stop here.”
“Stop the fucking car, lady!” He was screaming now.
“Oh, stop acting like a baby!” snapped Carla. “I’m not stopping here and that’s that.”
“Lady, I’m not going back to that fuckin’ church, and if you –“
“It’s not “lady”, it’s `doctor’”, she corrected him. “And if you really don’t want to go to the church then fine, I’ll drop you off.”
“Fine! Good!”
“Provided you tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you don’t want to go.”
Gary stared at her in the mirror for long seconds before slumping back in his seat and turning to stare out of the window, arms folded. The silent treatment. Great. Carla wondered if she’d been this obnoxious when she was in her teens. She persisted with the interrogation, keeping an eye on him in the mirror.
“Is it that you’re afraid of the
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