Otters

Chapter 11

"You're kidding me, right?" I asked, pulling out a cigarette from my pack and lighting it as the bus drove by.

"No, why would I be kidding?" Jo asked, her shoulders tense, averting eye contact.

"Because he freaking forced himself on you," I explained, stating the obvious. "And you know, I bet that if you two were alone in a room, he would've went for it." I raised my eyebrows at her.

"I doubt that," she argued as she stepped up on to her porch.

"Jo, listen to yourself. Two days ago, you would've smacked yourself if you were going through this." I took a long drag of my cigarette.

"Well, shit can happen in two days." The look in her eyes was unsettling. She looked totally different from before. She was broken, but she seemed ready to kill. Jo opened her door and walked through, but turned around and said, "Two years ago, you probably would've smacked yourself for smoking."

I clenched my jaw and threw the butt of the cigarette down on the ground. "Yeah? Well, shit can happen in two years!" I shouted.

Jo slammed her door shut angrily. I could picture her storming up the steps and aggressively getting ready for her date with Darien.

I pulled out another cigarette and lit it then placed the pack in my back pocket. I walked across the street to my home and pushed the door open.

I threw my backpack on the ground and plopped down on the couch, taking a drag. I watched as the smoke twirled around in the air around me. I put the cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table and leaned back, falling into a deep sleep.

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I sprung up as the house phone began to ring. I glanced out the window and noticed it was dark out. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I rushed over to the phone. I cleared my throat before answering. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank God, you answered!" It was Frieda. She sounded worried. "Shane, I need you to take me to the hospital. My water broke and Jo is still on her date with Darien." She was taking deep breaths.

"Alright. Alright. I'll be right over." I slammed the phone down and searched for the keys only to find them in my pocket. I rushed over to get Frieda.

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"Gosh, Jo, answer your damn phone!" I whisper-shouted as I paced the hallway of the hospital. I dialed for the fifth time and ended up getting her voicemail again. "Shit," I muttered under my breath." "Shit shit shit." I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Shane!" I turned to find my mother in her scrubs with her bag and sweater as if she were about to go home. "What're you doing here?"

"Momma, Frieda's going into labor," I explained. "Jo's not back from her date yet and I guess her phone is dead or something."

Momma glanced down at her watch. "Shane, it's almost eleven. You need to get home and get some rest." She squeezed my arm.

"No, Momma, I have to stay." I sat down on a bench and crossed my arms.

"You're coming home with me," she insisted. "I'm going to go check of Frieda, and then we are going home." She raised her eyebrows as if to date me to defy her.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever," I muttered under my breath. I watched as she walked away then tried to reach Jo again. She didn't answer. "Dammit!"

That's when the doors opened and she stumbled in, her long golden hair tangled and her glasses crooked. "Shane? I got your calls," she slurred.