Imperfectly Criminal by Mary Frame

Author:Mary Frame [Frame, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Freya

Everyone has their burdens, their grief, that they carry with them.

–Elizabeth Edwards

I have no time to prepare myself or badger him with more questions.

The house is small, but clean. When we walk in, there’s an older Hispanic woman vacuuming and yelling at someone in the kitchen. I can’t see who she’s talking to because there’s a wall in the way. As soon as she sees us, she stops the talking and the vacuum hums to silence.

She speaks rapid-fire Spanish to Dean before walking over and taking him into a hug, still talking while kissing him on the cheeks.

He responds, speaking better Spanish than I ever could have imagined emerging from his mouth, then he introduces us. “This is Alejandra, she’s my mom’s neighbor and she comes over sometimes to help with stuff around the house.”

“Mucho gusto,” I say, one of the few Spanish phrases I remember from high school.

Alejandra grabs my hands and half holds, half shakes them, still talking and looking at me and then Dean and then back at me again. I have no idea what she’s saying, and then she’s hugging me. I look over at Dean, but he just shrugs. Then Alejandra is moving away, back into the kitchen, still talking quickly.

We follow her into the kitchen and that’s when I see Dean’s mom.

She’s sitting in a chair at the small kitchen table. She has a light pink bandana over her clearly bald head. Her eyes are large in her thin face, her cheeks are sunken and her pallor is gray.

But she smiles when she sees Dean and her whole face lights up.

He immediately goes to her, leaning over and folding her into a hug.

“Dean, honey, what are you doing here? You never come over on Saturdays. Don’t you have studying to do?”

He stands up and steps back so she can see me, hovering in the open doorway.

“I wanted you to meet my friend,” he says.

I walk in and lean over and give her a hug, too. Everyone seems so touchy feely around here, and I am totally into that. But, you know, not in a creepy way.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Collins,” I say, pleased that I remembered Dean’s last name from when I got him out of the clink. Her shoulders feel thin and frail under my hands.

“Dean’s told me so much about you,” I continue. I turn around and give Dean a pointed look that I hope says something along the lines of, you told me absolutely nothing, you ass, and I’m going to make you regret it.

“He has?” His mom sounds surprised.

“Where’s Sarah?” Dean asks, interrupting us.

“Sarah!” Alejandra yells so loud, I flinch and nearly have to cover my ears.

A door creaks open somewhere and the clomp of feet yammer down the hall in our direction. For a minute, I wonder if “Sarah” is a call for a herd of wild goats, but no. Sarah is a young girl, perhaps eleven or twelve. She’s lanky with the same blue eyes and blonde hair as Dean.

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