A Spanking Basket

The Warm Afterwards

Barbara sat in the driveway and rubbed the tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Christ", she said aloud looking at herself in the rear-view. "Bobby's here...could I just straighten up a little?" She picked the summons off of the passenger seat and jammed it into the glove box. What the hell was the matter with her? She slammed the car door and walked past her brother's beat-up Jeep and in the side door.

"Bobby?" she called from the kitchen.

"In here", from the living room.

He was sprawled on the couch with a thick textbook balanced on his chest. Bobby was her "little" brother in years only. He set his book face down carefully on the coffee table and pulled his six foot two inch frame to full height to give her a quick hug. "How are you Babsy?" he asked calling her by one of the names he used to tease her with as kids.

"I'm good, I'm good..."

He looked at her shining eyes and mottled face.

"I'm not sure that's true..."

She waved him off and asked about their mother. Barbara hadn't been to the hospital in a couple of days but was planning to go later. Bobby, living at home now that he was finishing community college, obviously saw her much more often. Eileen was doing fine and would be home within the week.

"So you?" He asked. "What's your problem...And don't wave it off."

She told him the story-she had been hanging around with some sketchy friends-one of whom was sipping from a can of beer. He handed her the beer to slip inside to use the bathroom and, quick as that, a cop had driven up. No amount of pleading would convince him that it wasn't her beer and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. She was holding it. Her "friend" who had handed her the beer saw what was happening and never came back. That would be a $200 fine that she didn't have.

Bobby shook his head. "What are you, sixteen?"

"I know, I know..."

"It's a good thing Mom isn't here. She'd give you the brush."

"No doubt," she answered with a smirk. "Then I'd be grounded. Which might not be a bad idea-the grounding I mean. Keep me away from the assholes."

"She should have grounded you when you turned twenty one. Would have kept you from marrying the dick-head."

"Ex-Dickhead."

"No, ex-husband. Probably still a dickhead."

She laughed and relaxed a little. She didn't know how it was in other families but this was a "no judgment haven"-no matter how often she got over here. Since the divorce she had been spiraling a little-keeping a waitressing job, just getting by- but made it a point to come over here every couple of weeks or so just to kind of reconnect with herself.

Sometimes Bobby was here, sometimes not. She'd visit with her mom, then go up to her room which had remained almost untouched for the last five years-and sit. Reflect. Plot her next move or rue her last one. Actually more of the latter these days. Bobby went to the kitchen to make coffee and they continued the conversation-with louder voices-across the rooms.

"So where did your latest 'crime of the century' happen?"

"Wilkins Mall."

"The mall?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Real cop or mall cop?"

"Mall cop. Why?"

Bobby came back into the room, looked at the clock and grabbed his cell phone. "Chubby guy? One of those strawberry patches here, on his neck...?" he asked dialing.