Log - Jennie and her Mother
Oct. 3rd, 2005 11:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJennie works up the nerve to call her mother. To say she doesn't expect what follows is an understatement.
Jennie picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone. It was about 9 o’clock their time, so it wouldn’t be too late. She moistened her lips. Deming? What the fuck was she doing in Deming? And in rehab of all places? It was a completely legit place, too. She’d looked it up on the internet, not that she didn’t trust Duncan and his minions, she just had to see for herself.
What would she say to her? “Hi Mom, I know we haven’t spoken in almost two years after that time you threw me out of the house barefoot, but let’s put that beside us, shall we?” Or, “Gee Mom, guess what, I’m in New York living in a mansion and going to school cause they found out I’m a mutant, isn’t that surreal? Oh, and they have a stealth bomber that comes out of the pool, and Alison Blaire is giving me guitar lessons.” Yeah right.
The phone began to beep at her for having it out of the cradle for too long, so Jennie slammed it down quickly. This was ridiculous. Why was she being such a ninny?
Because she didn’t want to get screamed at, that’s why.
But then again, she was in rehab. She was trying to get clean. Unless it was court ordered rehab? But why the hell would the courts order her to go to New Mexico?
Jennie picked up the phone and stabbed the numbers quickly before she lost her nerve again. The phone rang three times, and then a female voice answered.
“Border Area Mental Health Services, how may I direct your call?”
“I…um.” Jennie said. “My name is Jennifer Stavros, and I’m trying to contact my mother.”
“Name?” The other woman asked in a bored tone.
“What?” Jennie replied intellegently.
“Your mother’s name, sweetheart.”
“Oh, um.” She could swear that this woman was chewing gum. “Penelope, Penelope Stavros.”
“Ah, yes.” There was a definite gum crack. “We’ve been told to expect you. Hold on, I’ll patch you through to the R.E.P. And just for the record, we usually only accept calls between 6 and 8 on weekdays, and 2 and 5 on weekends.”
“Hum. Okay. Thanks.” God, she sounded like such a weiner. The phone clicked, and musak began to play. La Vida Loca. Jennie felt her heart hammering in her chest, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama bottoms. Then there was another click, and a familiar, accented voice.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
What do you say when the daughter you've thrown out of your life calls you on the phone out of nowhere, after you think she might be dead? You try very hard to say something other than her name questioningly. "Jennie?"
And you really don't get much further than that without choking up and having to try to get rid of the giant tight lump in your throat.
Penelope tried to remember any of the things she'd thought she might say. That she was sorry, that she was trying to get her feet back under her. They all seemed to come out as "Jennie?", though, in a choked-up tight voice that barely sounded her own.
Jennie's brain completely emptied itself. Whatever she had been expecting, well, it wasn't her mother sounding like she was crying. All the intelligent things she had been planning to say went whoosh! right out her ear. Instead, she could barely manage a small, "Mom, is that you?"
"It's me, Jennie.." She had a tissue around here somewhere... Where had she put that tissue? Oh, right. Pockets. "Where are you calling from? Are you okay? Are you staying with someone? All those things she should have cared about before...
Jennie smiled and wiped her own eyes with the back of her hand. Where did those come from? "I'm okay, Mom, I'm, well. It's a long story. But I'm in New York, now. At school."
"New York? At a school?" She paused, and frowned a little. "Not one of those juvenile places?" God, please, don't let it be one of those places.. "What happened? I heard... on the news... and the social workers wouldn't tell me anything, like they think I don't deserve to know..." Maybe she didn't, but they didn't have to -act- like it.
Jennie took a deep breath and let it all out with a sigh. She then switched the phone to her other ear, it was getting sweaty. How was she going to explain this all? "Um, well, You know the girl I was staying with, right? Julia?" Her mother made an affirming noise. "Well, I guess you know what happened to her. But the thing is, she was dating this guy, and he was a real bad piece of work, Mom, anyway, he's, like the lead suspect. And he has mafia ties. And I know more than I should. So, they kinda decided it would be safer for me to leave Las Vegas. As for the school part." Jennie paused. "Mom, d'you remember the time the microwave exploded? Or how the stove was always burning stuff no matter how many times the super fixed it? Or how stuff would randomly break?"
The answer was a tentative yes. She couldn't forget the microwave exploding. Or the shelving in the cupboard the once. That had been... "Jennie, what does New York have to do with the super just never fixing the stove right?" That man was a crook, no matter what anyone said. "Or dry rot in the shelves?"
Jennie laughed in a high nervous way. "Um. Cause I did all that stuff. Only, I didn't know I was doing it. I'm..." Well, now or never. "I'm a mutant Mom. I can do stuff with probability, like luck. I can give things good or bad luck, which is why we kept having bad luck with the house, cause I kept doing it. Only I didn't know I was doing it. Not until later." She was dimly aware of the fact that she was babbling, but she charged ahead anyway. "I’ve figured out how to control it better, and it turns out they got this school for mutants, in upstate New York? So the FBI guys sent me here. So I'm in school." She finished lamely, wondering if what she had just said made any sense.
"Oh, Jennie..." Penelope struggled not to let her voice waver again. If she started crying, she wouldn't be able to stop. "It's a good school? You're getting a good education?" Concentrate on the good things, not on the bad ones. "They're good people there?" ~They'll keep you from ending up like me?~. She wasn't going to say it, but she was fairly sure the question hung in the air anyway.
"Yeah, they're good people here." Jennie sighed in relief. Not commenting or yelling about the being a mutant was a Good Thing. "Like, they have all these advanced classes, because the people all here are smart. Well, a lot of them anyway. Everybody usually ends up at a good college. The staff here is really cool too." She would not mention the fact that the staff also had a tendency to end up in the medlab because they put on leather suits and saved the world on a daily basis. "So, um. How about you Mom? What's been happening with you?" ~How the fuck did you end up in rehab?~
"I... " There was a long pause, and a choked sound. "I saw the news, the girl you were staying with, and... " It had hit her all at once, how she didn't know where her own daughter really was, and she could be dead, and it really was all her fault. "I fell apart. " She paused to blow her nose. "It got bad, and ... " No real option but to be honest about it. "I found... well, I talked to a... " Penelope sighed. "I checked myself in, Jennie. It was... not good. Very bad. "
Jennie had seen and heard a lot of crazy things lately. Cyborgs, girls that turned into cats, the fuzzy blue Nobel prize laureate, glowy balls of light that turned into cute naked guys. Hell, she didn't even bat an eyelash when that plane took off anymore. But this. This broke her brain. "You...you checked yourself in. In Deming?" Her voice cracked a little.
"There was a social worker, he recommended that you get away from all the things that..." That kept you drinking, kept you not wanting to think, kept you blaming everyone but yourself. "All the bad influences. People, places..." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.. "If I'd thought... I'd have stayed."
Jennie could just see her mother having one of her weeklong binges. "So you just walked into a clinic in Deming? Mom, how *did* you get to New Mexico? Last I heard, you was still living in the trailer park."
"I had Ty take me. He said it was about time... " A grown woman shouldn't sound, especially to herself, like a sad puppy. "He boxed up some of your things too..." Penelope let out a long shuddering sigh and leaned her forehead against the wall. "Jennie.. I don't.. I know it's not a lot, but I'm not going to screw things up for you again... "
"Ty? The gay black bouncer?" What was it with her mother and gay men? "That's okay Mom." Well, no, it really wasn't. But at least she really couldn't screw anything up for her this time. Not with being on the other end of the country. "I'm. I'm glad you're okay."
"Jennie, all the bouncers were gay..." They -were-. At least, she was fairly sure they were. And the almost-normal tone in her voice threatened to make her cry all over again for everything it hinted that might still be possible. "I'm not okay, but I'm working on it." Penelope said quietly. "And you're okay, which is a lot more important."
"Yeah." Jennie let out a long relieved sigh. Forge had been right, the bastard. "So, um, how much longer you got left in your treatment?"
"Another month here, and if I make it through.. " And she would, especially now... "Then I can go on to a halfway house." Maybe find work, the kind that didn't depend on being partially to mostly naked... Penelope looked up at a tap on her shoulder, and nodded at the nurse silently holding up two fingers and pointing to the phone. "Jennie, I'm going to have to go... they only let us have fifteen minutes on the phone.."
Jennie nodded, and then realized her mother couldn't hear the nod and said, "Okay, Mom. I'll...I'll call again soon, alright? When do you have privileges?"
She wasn't actually sure, and Penelope looked over her shoulder at the nurse, who mouthed "Your kid? Three times a week." and nodded, looking ... almost pleased. "Two more times this week, and ... " The nurse was scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Oh, if you call between two and five on the weekends, it's a full hour."
Her mother sounded so....eager. Pleased that she had called. She couldn't quite feel anything but incredulous herself. "Yeah. I'll call again, Thursday, alright? 'Bout 7 your time?" She wasn't doing anything that night. No coma-sitting, although those had been cut way back since Mr. al-Rashid was better, homework was under control. No excuses for getting out of it, either. Jennie let out a long sigh. "So. Um. Goodnight, then, Mom."
"Thursday is good. " She didn't have anything to do, except watch whichever game show was on the TV, or read. "Good night, Jennie. I'll talk to you soon." It was good to be able to say that, and look forward to it. She couldn't look at the phone as she hung it up, just a little afraid it would go away.
Jennie put the receiver down with a clunk. And swallowed, hard. That hadn't been so bad. Not bad at all.
So why was she crying?
..........
(xtra special thanks to miss Frito for socking Jennie's Mom)
Jennie picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone. It was about 9 o’clock their time, so it wouldn’t be too late. She moistened her lips. Deming? What the fuck was she doing in Deming? And in rehab of all places? It was a completely legit place, too. She’d looked it up on the internet, not that she didn’t trust Duncan and his minions, she just had to see for herself.
What would she say to her? “Hi Mom, I know we haven’t spoken in almost two years after that time you threw me out of the house barefoot, but let’s put that beside us, shall we?” Or, “Gee Mom, guess what, I’m in New York living in a mansion and going to school cause they found out I’m a mutant, isn’t that surreal? Oh, and they have a stealth bomber that comes out of the pool, and Alison Blaire is giving me guitar lessons.” Yeah right.
The phone began to beep at her for having it out of the cradle for too long, so Jennie slammed it down quickly. This was ridiculous. Why was she being such a ninny?
Because she didn’t want to get screamed at, that’s why.
But then again, she was in rehab. She was trying to get clean. Unless it was court ordered rehab? But why the hell would the courts order her to go to New Mexico?
Jennie picked up the phone and stabbed the numbers quickly before she lost her nerve again. The phone rang three times, and then a female voice answered.
“Border Area Mental Health Services, how may I direct your call?”
“I…um.” Jennie said. “My name is Jennifer Stavros, and I’m trying to contact my mother.”
“Name?” The other woman asked in a bored tone.
“What?” Jennie replied intellegently.
“Your mother’s name, sweetheart.”
“Oh, um.” She could swear that this woman was chewing gum. “Penelope, Penelope Stavros.”
“Ah, yes.” There was a definite gum crack. “We’ve been told to expect you. Hold on, I’ll patch you through to the R.E.P. And just for the record, we usually only accept calls between 6 and 8 on weekdays, and 2 and 5 on weekends.”
“Hum. Okay. Thanks.” God, she sounded like such a weiner. The phone clicked, and musak began to play. La Vida Loca. Jennie felt her heart hammering in her chest, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama bottoms. Then there was another click, and a familiar, accented voice.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
What do you say when the daughter you've thrown out of your life calls you on the phone out of nowhere, after you think she might be dead? You try very hard to say something other than her name questioningly. "Jennie?"
And you really don't get much further than that without choking up and having to try to get rid of the giant tight lump in your throat.
Penelope tried to remember any of the things she'd thought she might say. That she was sorry, that she was trying to get her feet back under her. They all seemed to come out as "Jennie?", though, in a choked-up tight voice that barely sounded her own.
Jennie's brain completely emptied itself. Whatever she had been expecting, well, it wasn't her mother sounding like she was crying. All the intelligent things she had been planning to say went whoosh! right out her ear. Instead, she could barely manage a small, "Mom, is that you?"
"It's me, Jennie.." She had a tissue around here somewhere... Where had she put that tissue? Oh, right. Pockets. "Where are you calling from? Are you okay? Are you staying with someone? All those things she should have cared about before...
Jennie smiled and wiped her own eyes with the back of her hand. Where did those come from? "I'm okay, Mom, I'm, well. It's a long story. But I'm in New York, now. At school."
"New York? At a school?" She paused, and frowned a little. "Not one of those juvenile places?" God, please, don't let it be one of those places.. "What happened? I heard... on the news... and the social workers wouldn't tell me anything, like they think I don't deserve to know..." Maybe she didn't, but they didn't have to -act- like it.
Jennie took a deep breath and let it all out with a sigh. She then switched the phone to her other ear, it was getting sweaty. How was she going to explain this all? "Um, well, You know the girl I was staying with, right? Julia?" Her mother made an affirming noise. "Well, I guess you know what happened to her. But the thing is, she was dating this guy, and he was a real bad piece of work, Mom, anyway, he's, like the lead suspect. And he has mafia ties. And I know more than I should. So, they kinda decided it would be safer for me to leave Las Vegas. As for the school part." Jennie paused. "Mom, d'you remember the time the microwave exploded? Or how the stove was always burning stuff no matter how many times the super fixed it? Or how stuff would randomly break?"
The answer was a tentative yes. She couldn't forget the microwave exploding. Or the shelving in the cupboard the once. That had been... "Jennie, what does New York have to do with the super just never fixing the stove right?" That man was a crook, no matter what anyone said. "Or dry rot in the shelves?"
Jennie laughed in a high nervous way. "Um. Cause I did all that stuff. Only, I didn't know I was doing it. I'm..." Well, now or never. "I'm a mutant Mom. I can do stuff with probability, like luck. I can give things good or bad luck, which is why we kept having bad luck with the house, cause I kept doing it. Only I didn't know I was doing it. Not until later." She was dimly aware of the fact that she was babbling, but she charged ahead anyway. "I’ve figured out how to control it better, and it turns out they got this school for mutants, in upstate New York? So the FBI guys sent me here. So I'm in school." She finished lamely, wondering if what she had just said made any sense.
"Oh, Jennie..." Penelope struggled not to let her voice waver again. If she started crying, she wouldn't be able to stop. "It's a good school? You're getting a good education?" Concentrate on the good things, not on the bad ones. "They're good people there?" ~They'll keep you from ending up like me?~. She wasn't going to say it, but she was fairly sure the question hung in the air anyway.
"Yeah, they're good people here." Jennie sighed in relief. Not commenting or yelling about the being a mutant was a Good Thing. "Like, they have all these advanced classes, because the people all here are smart. Well, a lot of them anyway. Everybody usually ends up at a good college. The staff here is really cool too." She would not mention the fact that the staff also had a tendency to end up in the medlab because they put on leather suits and saved the world on a daily basis. "So, um. How about you Mom? What's been happening with you?" ~How the fuck did you end up in rehab?~
"I... " There was a long pause, and a choked sound. "I saw the news, the girl you were staying with, and... " It had hit her all at once, how she didn't know where her own daughter really was, and she could be dead, and it really was all her fault. "I fell apart. " She paused to blow her nose. "It got bad, and ... " No real option but to be honest about it. "I found... well, I talked to a... " Penelope sighed. "I checked myself in, Jennie. It was... not good. Very bad. "
Jennie had seen and heard a lot of crazy things lately. Cyborgs, girls that turned into cats, the fuzzy blue Nobel prize laureate, glowy balls of light that turned into cute naked guys. Hell, she didn't even bat an eyelash when that plane took off anymore. But this. This broke her brain. "You...you checked yourself in. In Deming?" Her voice cracked a little.
"There was a social worker, he recommended that you get away from all the things that..." That kept you drinking, kept you not wanting to think, kept you blaming everyone but yourself. "All the bad influences. People, places..." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.. "If I'd thought... I'd have stayed."
Jennie could just see her mother having one of her weeklong binges. "So you just walked into a clinic in Deming? Mom, how *did* you get to New Mexico? Last I heard, you was still living in the trailer park."
"I had Ty take me. He said it was about time... " A grown woman shouldn't sound, especially to herself, like a sad puppy. "He boxed up some of your things too..." Penelope let out a long shuddering sigh and leaned her forehead against the wall. "Jennie.. I don't.. I know it's not a lot, but I'm not going to screw things up for you again... "
"Ty? The gay black bouncer?" What was it with her mother and gay men? "That's okay Mom." Well, no, it really wasn't. But at least she really couldn't screw anything up for her this time. Not with being on the other end of the country. "I'm. I'm glad you're okay."
"Jennie, all the bouncers were gay..." They -were-. At least, she was fairly sure they were. And the almost-normal tone in her voice threatened to make her cry all over again for everything it hinted that might still be possible. "I'm not okay, but I'm working on it." Penelope said quietly. "And you're okay, which is a lot more important."
"Yeah." Jennie let out a long relieved sigh. Forge had been right, the bastard. "So, um, how much longer you got left in your treatment?"
"Another month here, and if I make it through.. " And she would, especially now... "Then I can go on to a halfway house." Maybe find work, the kind that didn't depend on being partially to mostly naked... Penelope looked up at a tap on her shoulder, and nodded at the nurse silently holding up two fingers and pointing to the phone. "Jennie, I'm going to have to go... they only let us have fifteen minutes on the phone.."
Jennie nodded, and then realized her mother couldn't hear the nod and said, "Okay, Mom. I'll...I'll call again soon, alright? When do you have privileges?"
She wasn't actually sure, and Penelope looked over her shoulder at the nurse, who mouthed "Your kid? Three times a week." and nodded, looking ... almost pleased. "Two more times this week, and ... " The nurse was scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Oh, if you call between two and five on the weekends, it's a full hour."
Her mother sounded so....eager. Pleased that she had called. She couldn't quite feel anything but incredulous herself. "Yeah. I'll call again, Thursday, alright? 'Bout 7 your time?" She wasn't doing anything that night. No coma-sitting, although those had been cut way back since Mr. al-Rashid was better, homework was under control. No excuses for getting out of it, either. Jennie let out a long sigh. "So. Um. Goodnight, then, Mom."
"Thursday is good. " She didn't have anything to do, except watch whichever game show was on the TV, or read. "Good night, Jennie. I'll talk to you soon." It was good to be able to say that, and look forward to it. She couldn't look at the phone as she hung it up, just a little afraid it would go away.
Jennie put the receiver down with a clunk. And swallowed, hard. That hadn't been so bad. Not bad at all.
So why was she crying?
..........
(xtra special thanks to miss Frito for socking Jennie's Mom)
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Date: 2005-10-04 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-04 01:24 pm (UTC)Good- no, FANTASTIC job on all ends and... way to meet the 'XP Standards' in less than a month, lady. *hugs*