Change at Jamaica Station

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen 

Caroline is Confused but not Dazed                      2018 Valley Stream, NY

I had done four more night drops for John, in the same spot in Shirley, since I had found the bag in the woods. He wanted me to do more, but I found good excuses not to. I didn't want him to think anything had changed, but it had. I was moving out and moving on. Just a few more weeks, I told myself every morning. I tried to stay focused on my daily routine so my mind wouldn't go back to Jared, staring out the window of the empty apartment saying he wanted to come home for Christmas. I wanted more than anything for us to go home.

John didn't seem very happy about my new job, new apartment, or my chance to be near my son this morning when I arrive at the shop to pick up my car again. When I walk in to get the car with yet another new battery in it, I look around, as if I didn't know exactly which corner of the garage was where John worked. Sure enough, there is a young teen, close to Jared's age, leaning heavily against the garage door opening, on the inside corner, in the shadow. I take notice of him, and try to see his face, nod to him, but he pulls down the brim of his baseball hat. That must have been Jared's spot. He was a drug runner. Why didn't I think of this as a possibility months ago?

John notices me, noticing the teen, and he looks at me suspiciously. I realize how he has kept me separate from everything else. I don't even know the names of anyone else who works at the garage, even though I've had been here dozens of times. Who did I think was teaching Jared to be a mechanic? John looks slightly angry as he talks to another customer.

It's possible he's just tired, working too hard at the shop. He says exactly that, when I ask how he is, but he quickly changes the subject by giving me the instructions for the next drop off. Next week: we would be going back to the truck stop. I hide the nerves that trail down my spine by adjusting the hem on my new coffee colored skirt that matches my business heels.

"Nice clothes. New?" he asks.

"Yeah, I needed some things to go to interviews with."

"By the way, what is your new address?"

"Oh, it's Sycamore Street, but I forgot the number already. I let you know when I move next month, but John, when I move, I will be working full time there, and with the new job and Jared, I really won't have time to do this anymore." I knew my new address well. I had just ordered beds and couches to be delivered there next month, right before Christmas. It was 22 Oak Lane.

"Oh, no? I see how it is. Well, I'm sure you're still going to need your car fixed occasionally. I can take care of it for you, you know till you get settled and find a local mechanic you trust."

He replies slowly, eyes watching me. I had paid off the last of the money I owed him for the used car last month. He seemed surprised when I had handed over cash two weeks in a row. I told him I had picked up extra hours at the salon and they were generous with me there.

"Sure, of course. Hopefully the teens out there won't be stealing my car battery." I smile brightly and take the Walgreen's shopping bag out of his hand. "Light, not a large order this time, huh?" I ask John as I raise the bag up and down as if weighing it, my usual habit.

"Small order. Here is the address. I told you, just say the word and I can punch a hole in the hood and pad lock it." He hands me a piece of paper and I shove it in my pocket, and jump in my used navy-blue Audi, eager to end the conversation. John once told me we should never talk too long at work, nothing longer than it would take to cover a typical car conversation in case anyone was watching, and today that works out just fine for me.