Oct/08

4

Calli Under Cars

Holed up in our rooms afraid to leave, afraid of wicked. She lay screaming under a dead car, dripping in its grease. Naked from the waist up, in neon green shorts.
“Sean?”
“Sean?”
It wasn’t Sean. It was Jorjian. She was going to change her laundry.
“Do you want to come in and take a shower Calli?”
“It depends. Do you have any hard A? A cigarette? Are you gonna call the cops? Are you gonna call Gunnar?”
“No but I shoulda.”

Later that night, when Jen got home from her AA picnic, Jorjian and Jen made a promise to never let Calli in the apartment again. How’d she get through the gate anyway? Musta climbed over.
“But she was calling for you, asking about you.”
“There is nothing I can do.” But Jorjian wondered, who would Jen be able to turn away if they were naked, bleeding from the temple and screeching for her to save them?
“She swung a carburetor in my face, something rusty she had snatched while under the car.”
God she dug deep.
“Next time, you hold her put and one of us will go call the cops.”
Yeah, Jorjian agreed. She was sick of Calli’s sh*t.

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Gina B. Lalonde

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