Bad Love Read Free

how you feel about that, so I can tell the judge.”
    “Why doesn’t the judge ask
us
?”
    “He will,” I said. “He’ll be talking to you, but first he wants me to—”
    “Why?”
    “Because that’s my job — talking to kids about their feelings. Finding out how they really—”
    “We don’t
want
to see him,” said Tiffani. “He’s an insument of Satan.”
    “An—”
    “An
insument
! He laid all down with Satan and became a sinful spirit. When he dies, he’s going to burn in hell, that’s for sure.”
    Chondra’s hands flew to her face.
    “Stop!” said Tiffani. She rushed over to her sister, but before she got there, Chondra stood and let out a single, deep sob. Then she ran for the door, swinging it open so hard it almost threw her off balance.
    She caught it, then she was out.
    Tiffani watched her go, looking tiny and helpless.
    “You got to tell the truth,” she said.
    I said, “Absolutely. But sometimes it’s hard.”
    She nodded. Now her eyes were wet.
    She paced some more.
    I said, “Your sister’s older but it looks like you take care of her.”
    She stopped, faced me, gave a defiant stare, but seemed comforted.
    “You take good care of her,” I said.
    Shrug.
    “That must get hard sometimes.”
    Her eyes flickered. She put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin.
    “It’s okay,” she said.
    I smiled.
    “She’s my sister.” She stood there, knocking her hands against her legs.
    I patted her shoulder.
    She sniffed, then walked away.
    “You got to tell the truth,” she said.
    “Yes, you do.”
    Punch, jab. “Pow poom . . . I wanna go home.”
     
     
    Chondra was already with Evelyn, sharing the front seat of the thirty-year-old, plum-colored Chevy. The car had nearly bald blackwalls and a broken antenna. The paint job was homemade, the color nothing GM had ever conceived. One edge of the car’s rear bumper had been broken and it nearly scraped the ground.
    I got to the driver’s window as Tiffani made her way down the steps from the landing. Evelyn Rodriguez didn’t look up. A cigarette drooped from her lips. A hardpack of Winstons sat on the dashboard. The driver’s half of the windshield was coated with greasy fog. Her fingers were busy tying a lanyard keychain. The rest of her was inert.
    Chondra was pressed up against the passenger door, legs curled beneath her, staring at her lap.
    Tiffani arrived, making her way to the passenger side while keeping her eyes on me. Opening the rear door, she dove inside.
    Evelyn finally took her eyes off her work, but her fingers kept moving. The lanyard was brown and white, a diamond stitch that reminded me of rattlesnake skin.
    “Well, that was quick,” she said. “Close that door now, don’t kill the battery.”
    Tiffani scooted over and slammed the door.
    I said, “The girls haven’t started school yet.”
    Evelyn Rodriguez looked at Tiffani for a second, then turned to me. “That’s right.”
    “Do you need any help with that?”
    “Help?”
    “Getting them started. Is there some kind of problem?”
    “Nah, we been busy — I make ’em read at home. They’re okay.”
    “Planning to send them soon?”
    “Sure, when things calm down — so what’s next? They have to come again?”
    “Let’s try again tomorrow. Same time okay?”
    “Nope,” she said. “Matter of fact, it isn’t. Got things to do.”
    “What’s a good time for you, then?”
    She sucked the cigarette, adjusted her glasses, and placed the lanyard on the seat. Her slash lips twitched, searching for an expression.
    “There are no good times. All the good times already been rolled.”
    She started the car. Her lips were trembling and the cigarette bobbed. She removed it and turned the wheel sharply without shifting out of park. The car was low on steering fluid and shrieked in protest. The front tires swung outward and scraped the asphalt.
    “I’d like to see them again fairly soon,” I said.
    “What for?”
    Before I could answer, Tiffani