story clip: left of west
“So where were you?” Jess asked. She picked up her coffee and took a small sip, watching her sister over the top of the mug. June shivered.
“I told you. Work.”
“Work’s to the north,” Jess pointed out. “Your taxi came from the south.”
“Stalker,” June quipped, still staring at the menu but not reading it.
Jess sighed. “I’m serious.”
“Me too. Stalking is a serious problem.”
“You were at the Line again, weren’t you?”
June groaned and pushed the menu away. “Jess, I’m twenty-five years old…”
“It’s unhealthy!”
“…and I get that you’re my big sister, but seriously, lay off.”
“You know what happens when people go to the Line?” she asked, digging around in her purse. She finally pulled out a slightly-soggy newspaper and tossed it on the table. “This is what happens.”
June picked it up just as the waitress brought a second steaming cup of coffee for Jessica, milky chai tea for June, and two tall, cool glasses of sparkling water. “Hey look, you’re on the front page. I can see half your face, behind that dude…”
“He’s the DA, June,” Jessica said, swirling Sweet n’ Low into her coffee. “Read the article.”
June skimmed it, squinting at the parts where damp rings blurred the words. “The law pass?”
“They’re being difficult. These things take time.” Jessica was clearly trying to sound diplomatic but her voice shook at the edges.
June glanced up at her. “You’re doing a wonderful thing, you know. I admire you.” Jessica didn’t answer, so June tried a different approach. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Look at the statistics,” Jessica said, nodding her head to the paper. “These mothers are just dumping their children across the Line like it’s some kind of…easy orphanage. Like they’ll be magically cared for. And right now there are absolutely no legal repercussions for them. And our opponents, acting like it’s some kind of viable option…” She groaned and pushed her coffee to the side so that she could gently thump her forehead against the table, her honey curls spilling around her head. “It gets me down,” she mumbled. She lifted her head back up, finely-plucked eyebrows wrinkling over a delicate nose. “I’m worried for you, June.”
“I know,” June said with a sigh, drumming her fingers on the table. “I know it’s your job to be worried, and I know you see bad shit all the time. But this is me. Your sister. I’m not dumping a kid I don’t want or running away to be a hero. I’m just…looking.”
“What do you see?” Jessica asked, tucking hair behind her ear with her left hand, her ring glinting with fractured rainbows. She had never been to the Line.
June shrugged, still staring at the newspaper in front of her, at Jessica’s black-and-white, half-hidden profile, curly hair gusted up by the wind, mouth open, eyes fierce and bright, suit pressed and polished. Mom would clip this out, June was sure of it. Stick it to the refrigerator next to the lacey white invitation and a photocopy of Jessica’s law degree. “Darkness. Static. Sometimes…a flash of something, out of the corner of my eye.” She bit her lip, sucking on it, tearing at the delicate skin with her teeth. “Something beautiful.”
“Now you’re really scaring me.” Jessica couldn’t quite muster up a joking tone, and her words fell flat.
June finished the article and folded the paper, placing on the red vinyl seat cushion. “Tomorrow’s the two-year anniversary.”
The waitress reappeared, sliding hot bowls of pasta under their noses, thick with creamy sauce and garlic and the delicate sharpness of basil. “Why do you think we got the front page?” Jessica muttered, winding her fettuccini around a fork. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“Can you blame them?” June asked, cutting her gnocci in half and licking sauce from her knuckle. “I mean, two years ago, did you ever think something like this could happen?”
Jessica chewed, thoughtful, and didn’t answer.
“I told you. Work.”
“Work’s to the north,” Jess pointed out. “Your taxi came from the south.”
“Stalker,” June quipped, still staring at the menu but not reading it.
Jess sighed. “I’m serious.”
“Me too. Stalking is a serious problem.”
“You were at the Line again, weren’t you?”
June groaned and pushed the menu away. “Jess, I’m twenty-five years old…”
“It’s unhealthy!”
“…and I get that you’re my big sister, but seriously, lay off.”
“You know what happens when people go to the Line?” she asked, digging around in her purse. She finally pulled out a slightly-soggy newspaper and tossed it on the table. “This is what happens.”
June picked it up just as the waitress brought a second steaming cup of coffee for Jessica, milky chai tea for June, and two tall, cool glasses of sparkling water. “Hey look, you’re on the front page. I can see half your face, behind that dude…”
“He’s the DA, June,” Jessica said, swirling Sweet n’ Low into her coffee. “Read the article.”
June skimmed it, squinting at the parts where damp rings blurred the words. “The law pass?”
“They’re being difficult. These things take time.” Jessica was clearly trying to sound diplomatic but her voice shook at the edges.
June glanced up at her. “You’re doing a wonderful thing, you know. I admire you.” Jessica didn’t answer, so June tried a different approach. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Look at the statistics,” Jessica said, nodding her head to the paper. “These mothers are just dumping their children across the Line like it’s some kind of…easy orphanage. Like they’ll be magically cared for. And right now there are absolutely no legal repercussions for them. And our opponents, acting like it’s some kind of viable option…” She groaned and pushed her coffee to the side so that she could gently thump her forehead against the table, her honey curls spilling around her head. “It gets me down,” she mumbled. She lifted her head back up, finely-plucked eyebrows wrinkling over a delicate nose. “I’m worried for you, June.”
“I know,” June said with a sigh, drumming her fingers on the table. “I know it’s your job to be worried, and I know you see bad shit all the time. But this is me. Your sister. I’m not dumping a kid I don’t want or running away to be a hero. I’m just…looking.”
“What do you see?” Jessica asked, tucking hair behind her ear with her left hand, her ring glinting with fractured rainbows. She had never been to the Line.
June shrugged, still staring at the newspaper in front of her, at Jessica’s black-and-white, half-hidden profile, curly hair gusted up by the wind, mouth open, eyes fierce and bright, suit pressed and polished. Mom would clip this out, June was sure of it. Stick it to the refrigerator next to the lacey white invitation and a photocopy of Jessica’s law degree. “Darkness. Static. Sometimes…a flash of something, out of the corner of my eye.” She bit her lip, sucking on it, tearing at the delicate skin with her teeth. “Something beautiful.”
“Now you’re really scaring me.” Jessica couldn’t quite muster up a joking tone, and her words fell flat.
June finished the article and folded the paper, placing on the red vinyl seat cushion. “Tomorrow’s the two-year anniversary.”
The waitress reappeared, sliding hot bowls of pasta under their noses, thick with creamy sauce and garlic and the delicate sharpness of basil. “Why do you think we got the front page?” Jessica muttered, winding her fettuccini around a fork. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“Can you blame them?” June asked, cutting her gnocci in half and licking sauce from her knuckle. “I mean, two years ago, did you ever think something like this could happen?”
Jessica chewed, thoughtful, and didn’t answer.