this place? What else is there?”
“Been going to your meetings?” By “meetings,” Cee Cee meant the addiction support group.
She nodded. Sat through every gut-wrenchin’ question and discussion. Talked about Troy, our baby, my actions and the consequences. “Yes, Mom.”
“Noor did insist on one small sticking point and wouldn’t budge from it.”
Quinne rolled her eyes. “I knew it. What, community service?”
“Sort of. Without it, the deal goes away. You get the full 120 and it stays on your record.”
“Shoot, sign me up. What I gotta do?”
Cee Cee dug into her purse and produced a thumb segment-sized, blood red disk. “You get phone time in here?”
“Once a night. I ain’t got no one to call but you, though.”
“You do now.” She handed the disk to Quinne. “Since you wouldn’t see me earlier, you have to respond by midnight tonight. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Wait! What if I don’t get through?”
Cee Cee smiled and kissed her friend on the cheek. “You’ll get through.”
That night, phone privileges could not come fast enough. To the amazement of her fellow prisoners, who ribbed her, Quinne jumped in line for the first time, One joked that her man must have visited. Another one had seen Cee Cee kiss her and assumed that she and Quinne were lovers. Quinne endured the jokes without response, which egged on her provocateurs. When her turn came, she dialed the number five times and received a busy signal every time.
“Try another number, Ruiz,” warned the supervising officer, “or get out of line.”
She tried one last time, crossed her fingers and held her breath.
A hologram of a Hispanic male appeared. “Hello, and welcome to the Genesis Institute and the Begin Again Initiative. Please wait while we verify your identity with an iris scan.”
CHAPTER NINE
January 18, 2050
Absolution. Teanna had never heard of it until her psychiatrist used the term to describe her recent emotions. He refused to define it. Instead, he persisted in making Teanna clear up the matter for herself. During their Friday morning session four days ago, she excused herself to the bathroom and looked up the word on her holophone. Satisfied, she returned to the office with bravado.
“Forgiveness? Could’ve just told me that, Nandor.”
“Yes.” Adharma manipulated an invisible display. “But what would that accomplish?”
“Umm. . .not trying to confuse me?”
“Your confusion lies deeper than you think. I said you needed absolution. However you define it, that's your problem and your solution.”
It started and ended with Teiji, who had refused to see her. At her last attempt, she asked the man in charge of visitation to show her Teiji’s list of visitors. Only one person successfully saw him – his girlfriend, Kelly Roshenburger. Though multiracial herself, Teanna did not approve of her son’s choice of a white Jewish girlfriend. Yet, Teanna herself did not practice a religion. But something about the girl put her ill at ease. She appeared to be well-mannered and behaved. At the end of that same day around three o’ clock, she approached the girl. “Kelly!” She waved as discreetly as possible. “Kelly Roshenburger!”
Kelly turned. When she noticed the disheveled black woman walking towards her, she cursed and sped up. Teanna also stepped up her pace too but not enough to aggravate her scabbed-over knees. They arrived at Kelly’s transport at the same time. Teanna laid a hand over the door’s thumbprint panel and locked eyes with Kelly.
“You're harassing me. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t get a school policeman. One.”
Desperate, Teanna pled her case. “Hear me out, just this once. I‘m Tay‘s mom.”
Kelly crossed her arms. “I know. You want a chance, Miss Kirkwood? One more chance than you ever gave me? You don’t even know me, and the first thing
“Been going to your meetings?” By “meetings,” Cee Cee meant the addiction support group.
She nodded. Sat through every gut-wrenchin’ question and discussion. Talked about Troy, our baby, my actions and the consequences. “Yes, Mom.”
“Noor did insist on one small sticking point and wouldn’t budge from it.”
Quinne rolled her eyes. “I knew it. What, community service?”
“Sort of. Without it, the deal goes away. You get the full 120 and it stays on your record.”
“Shoot, sign me up. What I gotta do?”
Cee Cee dug into her purse and produced a thumb segment-sized, blood red disk. “You get phone time in here?”
“Once a night. I ain’t got no one to call but you, though.”
“You do now.” She handed the disk to Quinne. “Since you wouldn’t see me earlier, you have to respond by midnight tonight. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Wait! What if I don’t get through?”
Cee Cee smiled and kissed her friend on the cheek. “You’ll get through.”
That night, phone privileges could not come fast enough. To the amazement of her fellow prisoners, who ribbed her, Quinne jumped in line for the first time, One joked that her man must have visited. Another one had seen Cee Cee kiss her and assumed that she and Quinne were lovers. Quinne endured the jokes without response, which egged on her provocateurs. When her turn came, she dialed the number five times and received a busy signal every time.
“Try another number, Ruiz,” warned the supervising officer, “or get out of line.”
She tried one last time, crossed her fingers and held her breath.
A hologram of a Hispanic male appeared. “Hello, and welcome to the Genesis Institute and the Begin Again Initiative. Please wait while we verify your identity with an iris scan.”
CHAPTER NINE
January 18, 2050
Absolution. Teanna had never heard of it until her psychiatrist used the term to describe her recent emotions. He refused to define it. Instead, he persisted in making Teanna clear up the matter for herself. During their Friday morning session four days ago, she excused herself to the bathroom and looked up the word on her holophone. Satisfied, she returned to the office with bravado.
“Forgiveness? Could’ve just told me that, Nandor.”
“Yes.” Adharma manipulated an invisible display. “But what would that accomplish?”
“Umm. . .not trying to confuse me?”
“Your confusion lies deeper than you think. I said you needed absolution. However you define it, that's your problem and your solution.”
It started and ended with Teiji, who had refused to see her. At her last attempt, she asked the man in charge of visitation to show her Teiji’s list of visitors. Only one person successfully saw him – his girlfriend, Kelly Roshenburger. Though multiracial herself, Teanna did not approve of her son’s choice of a white Jewish girlfriend. Yet, Teanna herself did not practice a religion. But something about the girl put her ill at ease. She appeared to be well-mannered and behaved. At the end of that same day around three o’ clock, she approached the girl. “Kelly!” She waved as discreetly as possible. “Kelly Roshenburger!”
Kelly turned. When she noticed the disheveled black woman walking towards her, she cursed and sped up. Teanna also stepped up her pace too but not enough to aggravate her scabbed-over knees. They arrived at Kelly’s transport at the same time. Teanna laid a hand over the door’s thumbprint panel and locked eyes with Kelly.
“You're harassing me. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t get a school policeman. One.”
Desperate, Teanna pled her case. “Hear me out, just this once. I‘m Tay‘s mom.”
Kelly crossed her arms. “I know. You want a chance, Miss Kirkwood? One more chance than you ever gave me? You don’t even know me, and the first thing
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