I waited in line and watched the people around me. A young woman was sitting in one of the hard, wooden chairs. She was clutching her ticket number in one hand and breastfeeding a child with the other. Around her were a half dozen more kids in stepping-stone ages. I wondered to myself what kind of future this woman had to look forward to. The high point of her life ended when that first child was conceived.
There was a Hispanic family clustered around their patriarch. He held his number ticket as though it was a ticket to Heaven. I easily understood what was being said and realized they were all illegals and had come with a story prepared. Their dream would be to walk out with birth certificates, yet they probably didn’t have a hundred words of English between them.
There were a few teens, evidently on their way to the license bureau or perhaps to file for Medicaid or maybe even get into the service. I wanted to send them out into the sunlight and tell them to run. They were about to get enmeshed in the system, but then so was I. What the fuck am I doing here?
It was my turn then. “I’d like a copy of my birth certificate, please.”
She held out her hand. “Driver’s license, social security card, and one other piece of identification.”
I slid her the piece of paper with the judge’s seal. My fifty-thousand-dollar ticket.
The woman read it, then looked up at me over her horn rimmed glasses. “Can I see a photo ID? A driver’s license will do fine.”
“Don’t have one. Never drove.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and I could tell she was hung over by the way she cringed every so often and held her head. There were at least two babies behind me squalling at the top of their lungs.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re, what, in your twenties and never drove a car?”
“Have a driver.” The attorney’s words hung in my mind. I wasn’t elaborating on anything.
“What happened to your birth certificate?”
“Don’t know. My mother kept the important papers, but she died. Came to the funeral and her place had been cleaned out. No records, nothing. Everything was gone. Not even a picture to remember her by.”
The young woman who was breastfeeding had concluded her job and was now shouting at the children as though this would straighten them up. She shouted their names in a memorized litany and probably forgot who was whom from time to time. She tidied that up neatly by screaming, “Y’all.” It was a nice, serviceable name that included everyone.
The woman behind the counter put her hand to her head again and winced. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’re right after me. As soon as I’m done, you can get her and the kids out of here.”
She read the judge’s affidavit again, then sighed and nodded before asking for additional information.
I rattled my name, parents name, place of birth and all the legal bullshit required to get the piece of paper I wanted. I watched as she squinted at her computer monitor, stopping every so often to rub her temples.
The baby wasn’t full yet, or maybe it was colicky, but its wail drowned out the scattered last-minute strategic conversations of the Hispanic family. The two-year-old must have decided to scream in sympathy because her wail joined in the clatter. I looked at the woman behind the counter with an expectant expression on my face as though she should already be completing my request.
“Damnit!” She muttered under her breath as the baby hit a new high note. “Sign here and that will be fifteen dollars,” she said, pushing a paper beneath the Plexiglass window at me. I signed quickly, and she tore the document from its printer, stamping it hard with an official seal then signed it. “Here you go.” She grabbed my fifteen dollars and slid me the certificate.
I left the building and inhaled the relative quiet of the busy street. I've never bought my way through life before and felt not one ounce of guilt about doing it now.
Next was the DMV office. “I’d like to apply for a driver’s license,” I said to the girl behind the counter. She was young and looked like a librarian. I smiled and commented that her eyes matched her blouse. She asked for my previous license, and I gave her the same story, then handed her another paper from the judge that magically excused me from needing a permit. Money was king once again. She nodded and had me stand in front of a blue board. I flashed a bright smile as the camera flashed in my face. Ten minutes later, I was walking out with a paper license and the promise of a permanent one being sent to my house.
I went to the UPS store and overnighted the birth certificate. I drove past the courthouse in time to see the Hispanic family emerging from the office I’d so recently left. They were all crying; even the patriarch was wiping at his eyes. I pulled over to the curb and motioned to him to come to my opened window. I handed him three thousand-dollar bills and wished him buena suerte. He nodded and repeated gracias, gracias! He remembered me from inside the office. Our eyes met, and there was a kinship of the abandoned established.
The easy part was done. Now I had to come up with a plan for the hard part.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hawk
I pulled into my driveway and peeked in on Diablo before heading to the house. He was restless, and I figured it had been a few days since he’d gotten a good run. I’d get something cold to drink and then take him out.
I walked in and threw my keys on the counter, heading for the refrigerator and grabbing a cold beer.
“You got one for me?” a low voice said behind me.
I whirled and slid a butcher knife from the block on the counter as I did so. It was a smooth, thoughtless movement born of too many fights that sprang from the shadows.
Before me sat Worthington LaViere, III. My father.
“How did you—?”
“Get in?” he finished for me. “Not difficult. I know my way around security systems. Find out you were here? I’ve been watching you as long as you’ve been watching us. That’s right, your brother first spotted you. So, I made a few calls, and sure enough, someone called me back about an hour ago.”
I should never have thought I could outwit him. It was no accident I was bright and resourceful myself.
“Sit down, Ford. I think it’s time we had a talk.”
I caught my breath and whirled again toward the refrigerator, trying to gather my thoughts. I grabbed another bottle and as I came close to him, tossed it. He caught it reflexively and twisted off the cap. Unwilling to let him take control of the conversation as though I was an errant child, I said, “What do you want?”
His eyebrows went up. “I might ask the same of you, son. You’ve chosen to move in as a neighbor without so much as letting us know you were alive. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, I can tell.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’ve been on my own now for years, and you haven’t reached out with so much as a finger to find me.”
“Where’s Bernie?”
“Dead. Screwed one too many asses.”
“Ford…” he growled the name, his jaw tight. “That man was a part of this family, and he gave up his life for you.”
I took a swig of my beer. “Yeah, you’re right. In fact, he was more of a father to me than my own.”