Planted

The Lab

Jenna

By the time Jenna arose on Saturday morning, it was already past 10:00 am. The sun shone brightly through her gauzy curtains, illuminating her small bedroom with a pleasant, warmly colored light. Jenna reached her hands above her head and stretched her legs out long, until she felt her muscles reach their full length. Her Dad must have heard her rustling, and he knocked softly on the door. "You up, sleepyhead?" she heard him say.

"You bet," she replied, her voice still sleepy. She closed her eyes to take in the warm sunlight across her face.

She came out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes before yawning and adjusting the focus of her eyes to the kitchen. She blinked. Twice.

"Um...you guys?" she asked, raising one of her eyebrows. "You do know you look insane, right?"

Instead of her Dad's usual weekend breakfast buffet, Jenna saw Trisha and Ron spread out across the kitchen table with about a million loose papers. Her Dad gave her a wry smile and shrugged. "What can I say?" he asked. "Corruption really brings out the Nancy Drew in these two. Who woulda thought?"

Ron and Trisha appeared to be so enraptured in whatever they were doing that they seemed not to even hear him.

"Wow," Jenna thought. "This really is intense."

"So Jenna," Ron began, not making eye contact. "Since you already know about the whole thing, make as well put you to good use!"

Subtlety had never been Ron's strength.

"In fact," he continued. "I've already taken the liberty of signing you up!"

"Ron!" Trisha cried, her eyes widening. "You did what?"

Now looking slightly bashful, not to mention down at his pants, Ron meekly replied: "For the CNA class."

"Um, is that like with blood and stuff?" Jenna replied, wrinkling her nose. "Gross."

"Jenna, aren't you even going to ask what it's for?" her Dad said, jokingly.

"You guys!" Jenna cried. "I just got up! Come on! Where are the waffles? I'm hungry!"

"I think you mean hungry," her Dad corrected. "It's little use discussing matters of substance with Jenna before she's eaten," her Dad explained to Ron and Trisha. He raised both eyebrows at them before saying, "Trust me."

After Jenna had finished one of her Dad's famous hearty breakfasts, she sat down at the kitchen table with Ron and Trisha.

"So," Ron began, "You know, we'd like to keep who knows about this to a minimum." He looked up at Jenna's Dad, and she saw them exchange a knowing glance. "For obvious reasons," he continued.

"That said," he went on, "We hate to get you involved, Jenna, but since you already know, and since Trish can't be in two places at once, at least, that I know of..." he trailed off, casting Trish a flirtatious smile.

She responded by rolling her eyes. "Ron. Stay on track. This is serious!" She said, her tone joking in its reprimanding tone.

"We are going to need someone to um. Keep watch. Um. For us. Like, in the lab. Here." He said this stiltingly, as if Jenna would catch on to all the finer details and wave him off, freeing him from the duty of a further explanation.

Trish leaned forward across the kitchen table, folding her slender hands close to Jenna's own. Her nails were lavender, acrylic, and long enough to provide some dramatic table-strumming. Her fingers adorned with several heavy looking rings which glinted slightly in the late morning sunshine that flickered in through the kitchen's plaid half-curtains. Jenna winced, remembering how her Dad had mentioned that Jenna's mom had made the curtains by hand. Jenna's heart ached as she thought of her Dad carefully packing the gingham curtains, with their sweet ruffled edges, into a moving box to hang in their new kitchen.

It was like that, memories of her Mom. Though Jenna could barely remember anything about her before she passed, her Dad would drop little details here and there, almost enough so that Jenna had a picture of the woman who had captured her father's heart.

Suddenly, she felt Trish's hand brush her arm. "Honey," Trish's eyes peered into Jenna's own, filled with a sincere concern. "You okay?"

Jenna shifted quickly in her chair, and she began tapping her foot, a nervous habit. "Yes totally! Sorry!"

She said, but even she wasn't convinced by the bright and cheery tone of her voice. She smiled meekly at her Dad. "Um. Guys. I mean, I'll do my best."

"It'll be easier this way," Trish assured her. "We'll get you all set up before they even arrive. Nothing like the clown show Ron and I put together after-the-fact," she said, though her tone was still cheery, not to mention way more convincing than Jenna's had been.

Jenna took a deep breath, and absentmindedly played with the many bracelets that always encircled her wrists. She wished, desperately, that she could talk to Misty. About everything. Come clean about the lies, the almost lies, the half-truths, the missed calls. She missed that warm feeling of feeling totally known by someone. Someone who sees both your light and your darkness, and embraces it all.