hooks into you. When they leave, you have to take the hooks out, one by one.
I went to the nurses’ station. The nurse who’d brought Agway’s painkiller smiled at me. “Heading home?” she asked.
“Yes. I going to come back tomorrow.”
The nurse consulted her clipboard. “No, Children’s Services is transferring him tomorrow.”
“So soon? To where?”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “The home where they send orphans. On Gracie Street, by the old post office.”
Oh, great. A baby detention centre. “How long they going to keep him there?”
“Couldn’t tell you, you know. Probably till they find his parents or a foster home for him.”
“I can foster him,” I heard myself saying. Crap. What the behind was wrong with my brain? I didn’t want to foster nobody.
“They have official foster parents. You can’t just volunteer to take a child so.”
“That’s all right, that’s just fine,” I said. “Sure he’s in excellent hands. So good night, enh?”
“Good night.”
I made a relieved escape towards the car park. No way I wanted to mind a three-year-old at this stage of my life.
A ND WHAT A PIECE OF COMMOTION when the waterbus reached Dolorosse! Coast Guard and police cars lining the strip of grass around the ferry dock. Light from must be a dozen flashlights dancing over by the low cliff beside the waterbus dock. Men’s voices shouting from over there. Yellow police tape blocking off the edge of the cliff. What in blue blazes…? I drove down the ramp, pulled up beside the little covered plaza where pedestrians could wait for the waterbus.
Mr. Lee was outside his booth, pacing up and down on the plaza! I almost didn’t recognise him; I only ever saw his head and his chest. He came towards the car.
“Evening, Mr. Lee.” I held up my waterbus pass for him to see.
“Evening.” He held my car door open for me. He wasn’t paying any mind to whether I had my pass or not. He kept glancing over his shoulder to what was going on at the cliff.
“What happening? Like somebody get hurt?”
“Somebody get dead.”
“What?” I peered around him. Over by the cliff, a man was preparing to climb down a rope lowered over the side. It’s a wetsuit he was wearing? I couldn’t see for sure. “Somebody fell over the side? Who?”
“Don’t know yet. They still trying to get whoever it is out of the water.”
“Lawdamercy.” I made it almost to the yellow tape, Mr. Lee jittering along behind me, before a policewoman stopped us.
“Step back, please.”
“But who it is?” I asked. I craned my neck. An inflatable dinghy was bobbing in the water. Three people in wetsuits inside it. The Coast Guard logo shone from its side.
“Just step back, please, madam.”
Blasted woman wouldn’t let us get any closer. Me and Mr. Lee fell back a few feet to where an empty ambulance was parked. He had his arms clasped around his narrow upper body. He looked a little shivery. “You all right?” I asked him.
“I don’t like to be near the dead,” he said. “You ever been to those little islands over there?” He pointed out over the sea.
What that had to do with the dead? “You mean like Dutchie and St. Cyprian’s? They off limits.” Except for the official boat tours. Those islands were monk seal mating grounds, and the seals were Cayaba’s cash cows.
Mr. Lee smiled. “You ever know ‘off limits’ to stop young boys? They didn’t used to guard them so well when I was small. Me and my friends had a way to row over to Dutchie after school. Collect booby eggs, roast them over a fire.”
“Awoah. Nowadays they fine your rass if they catch you with a booby egg.”
“And if Johnson get back in power, he going to turn it to a jail sentence. Anyway, the boys and me stopped going after a while. Shallow water out there, rocks jooking up. Those rocks tear up a slave ship once.”
“Yeah, yeah, and the ghosts of drowned slaves haunt the islands to this day, blah, blah. I read the
I went to the nurses’ station. The nurse who’d brought Agway’s painkiller smiled at me. “Heading home?” she asked.
“Yes. I going to come back tomorrow.”
The nurse consulted her clipboard. “No, Children’s Services is transferring him tomorrow.”
“So soon? To where?”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “The home where they send orphans. On Gracie Street, by the old post office.”
Oh, great. A baby detention centre. “How long they going to keep him there?”
“Couldn’t tell you, you know. Probably till they find his parents or a foster home for him.”
“I can foster him,” I heard myself saying. Crap. What the behind was wrong with my brain? I didn’t want to foster nobody.
“They have official foster parents. You can’t just volunteer to take a child so.”
“That’s all right, that’s just fine,” I said. “Sure he’s in excellent hands. So good night, enh?”
“Good night.”
I made a relieved escape towards the car park. No way I wanted to mind a three-year-old at this stage of my life.
A ND WHAT A PIECE OF COMMOTION when the waterbus reached Dolorosse! Coast Guard and police cars lining the strip of grass around the ferry dock. Light from must be a dozen flashlights dancing over by the low cliff beside the waterbus dock. Men’s voices shouting from over there. Yellow police tape blocking off the edge of the cliff. What in blue blazes…? I drove down the ramp, pulled up beside the little covered plaza where pedestrians could wait for the waterbus.
Mr. Lee was outside his booth, pacing up and down on the plaza! I almost didn’t recognise him; I only ever saw his head and his chest. He came towards the car.
“Evening, Mr. Lee.” I held up my waterbus pass for him to see.
“Evening.” He held my car door open for me. He wasn’t paying any mind to whether I had my pass or not. He kept glancing over his shoulder to what was going on at the cliff.
“What happening? Like somebody get hurt?”
“Somebody get dead.”
“What?” I peered around him. Over by the cliff, a man was preparing to climb down a rope lowered over the side. It’s a wetsuit he was wearing? I couldn’t see for sure. “Somebody fell over the side? Who?”
“Don’t know yet. They still trying to get whoever it is out of the water.”
“Lawdamercy.” I made it almost to the yellow tape, Mr. Lee jittering along behind me, before a policewoman stopped us.
“Step back, please.”
“But who it is?” I asked. I craned my neck. An inflatable dinghy was bobbing in the water. Three people in wetsuits inside it. The Coast Guard logo shone from its side.
“Just step back, please, madam.”
Blasted woman wouldn’t let us get any closer. Me and Mr. Lee fell back a few feet to where an empty ambulance was parked. He had his arms clasped around his narrow upper body. He looked a little shivery. “You all right?” I asked him.
“I don’t like to be near the dead,” he said. “You ever been to those little islands over there?” He pointed out over the sea.
What that had to do with the dead? “You mean like Dutchie and St. Cyprian’s? They off limits.” Except for the official boat tours. Those islands were monk seal mating grounds, and the seals were Cayaba’s cash cows.
Mr. Lee smiled. “You ever know ‘off limits’ to stop young boys? They didn’t used to guard them so well when I was small. Me and my friends had a way to row over to Dutchie after school. Collect booby eggs, roast them over a fire.”
“Awoah. Nowadays they fine your rass if they catch you with a booby egg.”
“And if Johnson get back in power, he going to turn it to a jail sentence. Anyway, the boys and me stopped going after a while. Shallow water out there, rocks jooking up. Those rocks tear up a slave ship once.”
“Yeah, yeah, and the ghosts of drowned slaves haunt the islands to this day, blah, blah. I read the
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