What I Did on My Summer Vacation, by Mary (1)

Chapter 3

Marianne went into her bedroom. She came out dressed in one of her typical summer dresses – rose clusters on a cream field – and made another mug of coffee. She sat down beside Mary.

'So what's up?' Her lipstick left a little half-kiss on its rim.

The male anchor, in perfectly practiced tone-shift, began a story about a corpse discovered on the walking trail. Mary listened. The corpse was a woman, roughly twenty years old. The face was dismembered. She had no ID. They were still awaiting the dental results.

'Mary?' Marianne poked Mary in the shoulder. She shook and looked at Marianne who seemed concerned. 'Did you stay up all night?'

Mary barely registered the question. 'Can I ask you something weird?'

'Shoot.'

'Let's say you have this friend, right? And they saw something. Something really bad. A crime. They saw somebody commit a crime. They think they should go to the police. But my friend's afraid of the recrimination. You know, somebody coming after them if they tell. What should they do? Should they go to the police?'

Marianne had her cup of coffee at her lips ready to take a sip. When Mary finished she paused mid-blow and looked at Mary over the mug. She lowered her mug and sat it down.

'What kind of crime was it?'

'They didn't say.'

Marianne nodded, thinking, and crossed her left leg over her right and took up her mug again and sipped.

'Well. Tell your friend that they should always go to the police if they've seen a crime. They police need help solving cases. And the police can always help protect witnesses if the crime is bad enough. It's always safer to go to the police.'

Mary stared at the TV. 'Okay. I'll tell them.'

'Mary. This whole 'something happened to my friend thing' is a little cliché.' Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrow. 'What'd you see?'

Mary looked at Mrs. Jones. 'Like I said. My friend saw it.' Mary lowered her eyes. 'They saw something horrible happen.'

'Did they see you?'

'It wasn't me. Stop saying it was me.'

She slammed her mug entirely too hard on the glass coffee table and rushed out of Mrs. Jones's apartment. Marianne watched her leave, stunned. She sat back, worried. She looked with disgust at the TV. She picked up the remote. It blinked into death.

-

Mary slammed her bedroom door and screamed into a pillow.

She lay on her bed for quite some time. She heard her mother rise and shuffle past her door. Some early-day somnolent. She heard the clattering of pans and plates and silverware against glass.

Everything drained of meaning in that languid light streaming through her window. Drained of saturation and hue. The stuffed animals piled on her bed stared at her. Mary covered them with a blanket and took the hundred from her sock drawer and stuffed it into her pocket and left her room.

'Is it okay if I go to Sammy's, Mom?'

Her mother seemed stronger this morning. She had three stacked flapjacks with a quarter-slice already eaten. She assented from behind a full mouth. Mary went outside and down the steps and down the street.

-

Kaplan watched her through his binoculars. She strode towards him. She stopped. She seemed to be staring at something on the pavement. She had her hands in her pockets.