Stephanie Says - Chapter 4

I c-can't believe this"

Hank Halibut sat hunched over in a kitchen chair, his furry paws covering his face. Donna stood in the frame of the kitchen door, arms crossed, sipping from a mug that ironically read "World's Best Mom." It was ten after twelve on a Tuesday evening. A kettle boiled on the stove and patches of frost crystallized on the windows. The baby monitor that Hank had assembled sat quietly on the counter. Stephanie's steady breathing hummed through the speaker.

"Honey..." she started, feigning concern to the best of her ability. He raised a hand to stop her from continuing.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"With this, he looked up, enraged at his wife's display of ignorance.

"Bipolar, manic depressant, allergic to her own scent...Christ, Donna, do you think I willed it this way? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

She was taken a back and paused a little longer before speaking again.

"A child, I meant, you wanted a child."

"Yes...I wanted a child, a girl a boy, it didn't matter...but I didn't want a little girl who will grow up with a split personality, or with a mood that switches quicker than a fuckin light switch...what she'll have to endure Donna..."

She's supposed to see the doctor again tomorrow...nothing is for sure Hank, all they said was that there's a chance she will be mentally unstable...there will be some signs early on, but most of this stuff won't be visible till she's older".

Donna's apathy for her newborn child was not on full display during this late night vis-a-vis with her husband. Not that it mattered. He knew she hadn't wanted another kid. The physical and emotional toll that Eric had caused the family was bad enough. A stoner for a son and an emotional train wreck for a daughter. Other people couldn't empathize. Donna Halibut's indifference for bearing children stemmed from the context of her environment. The results of her attempts at procreation were so unrewarding. Yet Hank had persisted.
He had gotten down on his knees, that fuckin pussy. Another fuck up to cavort around the house and shower with toys and praise. Less pleasure for her and far more pain. Where was the compromise in that? And she was expected to adopt the attitude of a compassionate mother for a being that she had been duped into producing?
By all accounts, hadn't the means justified the ends for Hank Halibut? Hank who had crafted this clandestine operation to impregnate her? Hank who would have taken her to the Supreme Court to overturn Roe v. Wade if she, his own wife, had wanted an abortion? He deserved it, she did not. And she now had maternal duties to fulfill which she never voluntary entered into.
******
Eric Halibut occupied a precarious position amongst social circles at Magruder High. As the self-professed drug king, Eric had garnered plenty of publicity. It was a title he relished. Everyone bought from Eric Halibut. If you weren't buying from him, you were getting probably getting cheated. For his congenial and carefree attitude, he had earned the nickname Eazy-E. But his nonchalant character was also the source of great trouble. There had long been speculation amongst the faculty and administrative officials that Eric Halibut engaged in an illicit trade of sorts.

It was early Friday afternoon. Eric and his boys, J-Bone and Big Slick Boyd, sat near the rear of the school parking lot. On Eric's orders, they had all excused themselves from classes for the rest of the day. An "early dismissal" he termed it. The security guard, Proctor, watched them vigilantly from across the parking lot. Proctor was an immense figure, a bald black man with a goatee and a formidable frame. He dressed in all black and carried a .44 magnum in a holster on his waist. His military boots, also black, were laced tightly and prepared to deliver a swift kick to the face if any fool tried to step.

"Look at that crazy nigga maan. Reminds me of Samuel Jackson in Shaft" J-Bone proceeded to mimick Proctor, drawing hysterics from Big Slick and a slight chuckle from Eric.

J-Bone had been raised in Forrestville, a predominantly black area in Prince George's County. Ironically, he was one hundred percent white. As his great grandfather, a former member of the Third Reich, had told him: "You are of the Aryan race son, a pure bred." These words of praise had come on J-Bone's seventh birthday, at which time his feeble grandfather mustered what little strength he had and shoved a copy of Mein Kampf into his gullet, instructing him to read it at all costs. His mother had promptly taken the book and used it as firewood that evening.

"Waz good for tonight, E?" Big Slick Boyd was super senior, a 21 year old high-schooler. Born to a single mother, Big Slick had been forced to take on the role of a man of the house, a duty that he neglected in favor of amphetamines, acid, and a slew of other illicit substances. At twelve, he had become accustomed to a diet of weed and his mother's painkillers. Ocassionally, he would steal Robitussin from the People's pharamacy down the street and spend the next week on a high known ironically as "robotrippin." He had done several unfruitful stints in rehab over the past two years, squandering what was left of his mom's savings.

"We got T.J.'s thing goin tonight. I'm sayin we roll through, see if anyone's tryin to score. If its dope, we can hang around."

J-Bone and Big Slick nodded in assent. Though they were a crew, Eric wielded the most influence. In short time, he had become a demigod of the drug trade. In reality though, he was only a part-time dealer, turning a nice profit that he used to finance his own appetites.

"Ay E, it cool if I crash at your place tonight?"

"No can do man...my pops is nuts, told me to get my shit together."

"What the fuck is his deal, bruh?

"Fuck if I know, issuin these ultimatums and shit. I'm movin out after this year anyway."

"What about that sister of yours, ain't you supposed to be a role model, settin a good example and shit?"

"Who are you man, the United Way? When you get so soft, huh?"

Eric jokingly sucker punched J-Bone in the stomach, drawing laughter from Big Slick and a nod of disapproval from Proctor. As the security guard lumbered in their direction, the bell shrilled and the hordes emerged from all directions of the school. Eric grinned.

"Open shop boys, open shop."