Lift

LIFT
By Ralph Rice
(c)Copyright 1997


Wendy flipped through the rack looking for her favorite. Pam was already at
the counter payin for STP's latest. Why did they even bother stocking this
old stuff anyway? Cream? That a Prince single? Sure enough, it was not
there. Just the same old stuff. As she glanced over the rows of music and
walked up behind Pam, she spotted the stack of CD's on the sales counter.
Bingo! Smashing Pumpkins! Pam was asking the clerk about the magazine the
store offered free while she fished in her bag for her wallet. There
were at least a dozen of them, and they were just about to be shelved by the
clerk. They were missing those little anti-theft devices. The magazines
were all gone. As Pam handed over her money to the clerk, Wendy did a
little casual pirouette on one foot looking to see who else was nearby.
Pam started yakking about her favorite music, instant channel change material
for Wendy. The clerk dropped some change, then the stamp gun she was holding.
As she bent to pick them up, zip! In a flash, Smashing Pumpkins were next
to Wendy's heart. She looked casual as she slowly buttoned up her sweater.
Pam started to smile, then caught herself. The clerk straightened
up slowly and counted out Pam's change. The girls turned for the door and
Pam asked the clerk to be sure and save her one of next month's free
magazines. Wendy chimed in,"likewise" and smiled as the clerk agreed. As
they headed out the door, Wendy mulled over how best to spend the twenty
in her pocket. They were about thirty yards out into the parking lot; Pam
had already started giggling, when Wendy felt this hand on her shoulder.

Bill nodded as the large sloppy looking woman across the desk from him told
her story. He'd left word with the secretary to hold all calls. Sheila
told her heart-breaking tale of being victimized by the sleazy bar. There
she was, dancing the limbo when she felt this awful pain in her knee. Bill
did his best kind, interested face when she told him how much she'd had to
drink when it happened. He really had his hands full lately, all the
caseload any man could handle. Sheila described what a torn anterior
cruciate ligament felt like. Bill asked if she would like anything to drink
as he rose from behind the desk. Sheila said, "Coke please." Bill excused
himself and headed for the bathroom. He'd scarfed this giant burrito for
lunch, he remembered thinking it might be a mistake just before he did it.
As he returned to his office door; Tina the receptionist got up looking at
him with this urgency that puzzled him at first. He remembered that he
had promised her time off work this afternoon. As she scurried out the door,
she squeaked, "Thank-you." Bill just smiled; what a smile she had, what a..
He snatched a coke from the fridge and returned to his client. Sheila
described the injustice, the negligence. Tina's phone rang, the room was
empty. Bill explained the concept of a contingency fee to Sheila as the
burrito knocked again, this time much louder. He agreed to send his man
over to question the bartender who worked that evening after she described
puddles on the floor and witnesses galore. He escorted her to the door and
did not smile or shake his head until she was safely gone. As he turned back
toward his office, he saw that the phone was lit up. He ignored it. After
another trip to the john, he locked up and started for home with some
legitimate case files under his arm. Too many of them, in fact.

Ms. Waters hated this guy. She had seen him before, twice. When it came to
these cases, she always imagined some bastard doing that to her. Nick took
a deep breath as Asst. D.A. Nancy Waters walked quickly towards him. He
would never hit a woman. Heck, sometimes it occurred to him that a woman
might hit him! Like the time he begged Nancy for that deal on his pyro
-maniac client. Nah, she wouldn't hit him, but she could run faster, might
be as strong, and she always seemed pissed off. He smiled as she approached,
she glared. He repeated the deal and she launched right into a full five
minutes on why she would never agree to this. Nick could understand, of
course. He was just about to cave in completely when Nancy's pager went off
and she excused herself. Always pissed! Nick thought about his
client, this wave of revulsion came over him. When Nancy returned, she
looked even more angry than before. Before Nick could open his mouth to
apologize, she barked the specifics of the deal he had asked for in this
kind of machine-like monotone. Nick lost his train of thought entirely.
He barely caught what she said after that, "Fine, it's a deal. Don't ever
expect this to happen again!" As she said this, she reached out with her
right hand and patted Nick on the chest for emphasis. With that, she spun
on her heel and was gone. Nick straightened his tie, cleared his throat,
looked around to see if anyone was watching. Hey, it's not like she actually
hit me, he thought. Then he looked again to see if anyone had seen that.

Wendy had cried herself dry by the time Asst. D.A. Waters barged into the
room. God! How does an attorney not answer his phone? Maybe something
horrible happened to dad, this would diffuse the situation. Car
accident! Murdered! After her mom had spoken to the officer in hushed
tones for a few minutes, she turned toward her. All she could get out
was, "Mom." Nancy hissed, "Not now, let's get you home." There
were all these little chances if it were dad. She had no idea how to explain
this right now though. In the car, she started to ask about her father
again. Nancy accelerated the car, didn't say a word, just changed lanes.
After a long silence, Nancy asked, "What did you do with your allowance?!"
Wendy started crying. "I asked what you did with your allowance!!" Wendy
fished the twenty out of her grungy jeans and threw it at her mother. Nancy
took a sharp breath. She was approaching an intersection. She did not let
go of the steering wheel with her right hand to slap the girl. After the
intersection, she looked at the money that had bounced off the window down
into her lap. She looked at her daughter. Wendy stopped crying, she took a
sharp breath and glared right back at her mother.

Bill had made it off the toilet and was drinking the pepto right from the
bottle when he heard the front door slam. "Jeez, Wendy!" he yelled. He felt
a lot better. As he exited the bathroom, he slammed the door really hard.
"Ooooops!" "Sorry daddy." he yelled in his best little girl voice. Nancy
walked past him in the hallway saying, "It wasn't her." She disappeared
into their bedroom slamming the door behind her. Wendy scooted past him
and headed for her bedroom. As he said, "What's wrong princess?" Wendy
won the door slam contest easily.

After a very quiet dinner that evening,the three of them separated to their
rooms. Nancy to bed with case files, Wendy to bed with her headphones, Bill
on the couch with case files. He had been shocked at first by the story.
When he asked her why she did it, she burst into tears and left him with the
impression he'd done something wrong. She was a good kid with no history of
this type behavior. He just kissed her on top of her head and left the room.
When he tried for a consult with Nancy, she would have no part of it. She
just shoo-ed him out of the room saying she had to catch up on work. The
following Saturday, mother and daughter skipped their trip to the gym
together for the first time he could remember. They weren't talking at all,
just an occasional order or request from mom. Bill did his best to lighten
the situation. He teased and cajoled Wendy like he had always done about
everything. What a difficult age, he figured. One evening when he found
both of them locked in their separate rooms, he knocked on Wendy's door
gently. She told him to go away. He did his best puppy scratching at the
door and whining imitation. After a few minutes of this, his little girl
flung open the door and glared at him like he was selling meat door to door.
"What, daddy!" He just breezed past her and started snooping in her
bookshelf. She returned to her bed and flopped face down with her magazine.
When she put her headphones on and turned up the volume, he walked over to
her bed, then hopped up in a crouch to land on the foot of her bed in a near
cannon-ball posture. This shook the bed so hard that Wendy's magazine
smacked her right in the face. She tore off her headphones and yelled,
"Daddy, you're such a dweeb!" He just smiled at her. She inhaled, then
just as she was about to yell, she caught herself. She just made a sort of
growling noise and returned to her magazine. Bill knew what she'd almost
yelled, they'd been through this a thousand times. He teased her into near
hysterics, then she'd holler, "Mom!" There she lay with her headphones on,
staring at her magazine. He didn't exist. As he got up, he grabbed the
corner of the comforter and started to drag it off the bed with her on it.
When she was halfway off the bed, she ripped off the headphones again,
"What dad, what?" Then she landed on her butt on the floor. He sniffled,
then he said, "Nothing." in his best little girl voice. As he started his
best little girl crying imitation, he could see she was trying to stifle a
smile. With that, he turned and as he left, he said, "Oh, I just hate
you!" just as his daughter might.

There was to be an interview with someone at juvenile hall. Nancy did not
want to accompany her, Bill agreed to. He tried to lighten Nancy's attitude
on the whole subject without much success. He couldn't really figure her
attitude about this. Sure a little disappointment, punishment, scolding,
then move on! He thought of some of their behavior back in college. What
was she turning into? Next, she'll start pulling her hair back into one of
those buns. They both agreed that it wasn't the end of the world. Still,
this cold war between the two of his girls was getting old fast. Wendy
spent her time at home in her room. The gym got skipped again and again.
When Wendy's period of being grounded expired, she would get evasive about
where she was going when asked by her mother. Wendy began skipping her
cleaning chores. When questioned, she did a perfect imitation of her mother
by flipping her hair just so, and stating matter-of-factly what she had been
doing instead. Homework, shopping, etc.. When she looked at you after
saying this, she knew she had a good point, she knew you knew... She'd
loosened up a little around Bill after a time. She began asking about
defense strategy for her hearing. Bill reassured her. He explained what
would happen and how best to act in front of the juvy counselor. On the
evening before her hearing, Wendy really got more nervous than she wanted to
admit. When she asked her father about probation for the tenth time, he asked
her about Smashing Pumpkins. He had tried to explain the Beatles to her but
she just was not getting it. He pressed the question this time, even though
he really did not expect much. Some of the new stuff he actually did like.
A lot of it seemed to be wild names for bands and little else. She was so
wound up about this shoplifting thing that he just knew she'd learned her
lesson. He thought about how he used to boost the occasional candy bar from
the drugstore on the way home from school. If she had asked him, he would
have confessed to this. It just did not occur to her that her father could
have ever done such a thing. He took the headphone jack out of the amp and
popped in the cd. She took over at this point with her usual enthusiasm,
"You have to hear this one." It wasn't too bad, he thought. At the end of
the song, she immediately tuned the player to the next best tune. When she
started dancing, Bill turned up the volume just a little then joined her.
The door was open about half-way. Nancy peeked in as she passed by on the
way down the hall, unseen, unheard, with a stack of files under her arm.
When she had watched a few moments, she continued down the hall.

Next morning; Bill had finished his coffee and had headed out to the back
yard to feed King. King absolutely loved every-one in the Water's household.
He just could not show that enough, no matter how hard he tried. He wished
he were as big as the Water's, he tried hard, they were so tall, and they
were always yelling, "Down boy!" How else was he supposed to lick their
faces? Sometimes, if he got a good running start, he could almost lick the
face of the biggest one. The one that would sometimes catch him in mid-air
and hug him. The others would turn away and he'd have to circle them to get
in a good lick. Bill had just filled the bowl. His focus was straight down
at the dish in his hand, he was bent over at the waist. King had a good
running start and Bill looked up too late. King did not care that he had
mistimed his leap. The whomp on the top of his head didn't really bother
him. The big one was sitting now, he kept pushing him away. The lick or
two he did get in had a different taste. The big one did not yell, so he
kept trying. God! How he loved these people!

Nancy and Wendy sat in front of the juvenile counselor. Bill leaned back
and relaxed after the novocaine shot was over. The two teeth could be
re-implanted. After a few brief questions to her mother, the thing that
really struck Wendy most, was the staring contest. This counselor just did
not take her eyes off her for a split second. She did not even blink!
Twice, the counselor had to repeat a question when Wendy became so distracted
by this eye contact. Mom was completely worthless, absolutely no help at
all. Dad would have defended her. What was she turning into anyway! Get
over it already! She promised the counselor there would be no behavior like
this ever again. Yes, she'd learned her lesson and then mother and daughter
were out the door. The first part of the drive home was silent. Nancy
thought about what she'd seen the night before. She wondered if Bill would
finally get rid of that giant stupid dog who had ruined that skirt from Saks.
Wendy wondered whether to reach for the stereo. She knew her mother would
stop her. Her hand started for the knob, then stopped. She wondered if that
creepy counselor stared at everyone that way. She thought of poor King
whining when they left the house earlier. She looked at her mother. Her mom
turned her head just then, when their eyes met, they both immediately looked
forward again.

Nancy cleared her throat, then said, "Wendy." Wendy rolled her eyes, she
knew it would be foolish to reach for the stereo, but for an instant, she
considered it anyway. Nancy did not look at her daughter as she spoke.
The story just leaked out of her because she had to tell it. Wendy did not
interrupt. She did not even think about the stereo. Seems there was this
high school girl and her friends in a Rhodes store. Wendy almost asked
about Rhodes, but she knew it was one of those things sorta like the music
dad liked. These high school kids would try on various clothing just for
fun, with no intention of buying any of it. Wendy rolled her eyes but caught
herself before she said anything. She'd done this two thousand times.
Poor mom. Nancy really thought hard before she told the rest of the story,
the part about taking a bunch of stuff into the dressing room with her.
The part about putting only some of the clothing back on the rack when she
was finished. She was blushing when she said the part about wearing some of
the stuff out the door under her own clothing. She was really very
embarrassed when she got to the part of her spiel about the only difference
between them. Wendy had gotten caught, she had not.

When she looked at her daughter, Wendy's mouth was hanging open, her eyes
were wide as saucers. Immediately, Nancy had severe second thoughts about
having told her this. She started on damage control. At this time, she was
so distraught, she had to pull the car over in order to make her point
perfectly clear. Her pager sounded just then, she turned it off and
completely ignored it. She came very, very close to threatening her daughter
while she begged her not to tell Bill the story she had just heard. A while
later, as she pulled into the driveway, she remembered the pager. Wendy
almost read her mind. They looked at each other then burst into laughter.
Nancy backed back out of the driveway and pointed the car toward the
dentist's office.

Saturday morning, Bill looked at King after the dog started scarfing his
food. He whipped the slobber off his face, gently. Two teeth, two thousand
dollars. King looked up at him, his tail in hyper-wag. Bill patted the
dogs head right on the spot that had connected. King returned to hoovering.
The phone rang. It was Sheila the limbo dancer. Seems this was an
emergency. Just then, Nancy and Wendy walked past him decked out in their
gym clothing. Nancy pecked him on the cheek as she headed for the front
door. Sheila said something about evil, lying bartenders. Wendy waved
goodbye then, with a smile, SLAM!



THE END