Forgive Me(24)

Over the years, Angie had had it drilled into her not to overshare. A shrink might have a field day with her career choice. Her job was to unlock other people’s secrets, shine light into dark corners, and reveal hidden truths. All children had a rebellious side, she believed, and at times wondered if her career was a form of that rebellion. Was it her way of being a runaway?

“Can you stick around a second?” she asked Bao.

Angie fished out the photograph from an unmarked white envelope, camouflaged by the clutter of her handbag. Her bag was almost the same size as the one Bao used to carry around his computer. Angie knew she could be more fashionable with her accessories. She also knew that Target wasn’t a handbag brand name, but that they had great prices and fine enough merchandise.

She showed him the photograph.

“What’s this?”

“I found it in the attic in my parents’ home. My mother hid it in a music box. Look on the back.”

Bao read the inscription.

“That’s my mother’s handwriting.”

“What’s it mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s my question.”

“Well, where was this taken?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about when?”

“Bao, those are all the questions I have. Now, I need your help getting the answers.”

“That’s not all the questions,” Bao said, studying the back of the photograph. “Why does your mother want forgiveness?”





CHAPTER 12



Exhibit D: Excerpts from the journal of Nadine Jessup, pages 25-30




Just a normal day of hanging out. It’s so much fun having nothing to do. School, my life, it all seems so far away now. Ricardo says just wait until it starts happening for me. My acting career. Ha! That’s so funny to even think about. But he believes and so I believe. When it happens I won’t be so relaxed so he tells me to enjoy the downtime while I can. We’ll be jettin’ from film set to film set. Maybe go to France for that big festival . . . whatever it is, Cans or something.

It feels like my old life happened to somebody else. Ya know? I think of this apartment as my home now. It’s nice here. Well the shower is a little gross. Drips of water and yellow stains around the drain kind of gross. And the bathroom isn’t the cleanest. The kitchen is super small but I imagine it’s the kinda kitchen I would have in my first apartment, so it’s cool by me. But it’s not the best money can buy. It’s not like my kitchen at home. A kitchen worthy of Potomac, Maryland. Say that with your nose in the air all snooty like! This is real life out here. Ricardo takes me out for walks around the neighborhood. HA-HA-HA I sound like his dog. But I have to go with him because this neighborhood isn’t the best. That’s what he says and I believe him.





Buggy came over. He brought weed and we sat around smoking. Buggy freaks me out. He just looks at me and doesn’t say much. He’s creepy. He watches me and I think he’s thinking gross thoughts. I dunno. But Ricardo likes him so he comes over a lot. He always wears a fedora hat and bowling shirts with a wife beater tank underneath. Last night Ricardo and I watched Jaws, the shark movie. I had never seen it, but there was this scene were the old fisherman guy (whatever his name was, Quint, right?) he’s talking about being in the water with a bunch of sharks and he says something like a shark has lifeless black eyes, like a doll’s eye. I thought about that when Buggy came over this morning because that’s what his eyes look like to me.





So Ricardo opened up to me tonight. I want to cry for him. I feel so bad!! How can people be that cruel? WTF is wrong with people? That’s what I’m saying. WTF people! And I thought my father was an *. Ricardo’s dad used to burn him with cigarettes, lock him in a trunk, and beat him with his belt. He said he once spent three weeks locked inside a closet. He got water and food sometimes but he had go to the bathroom in the closet. So gross. So wrong. Anytime he did something wrong his dad would put him in that closet. Then . . . get this . . . his father killed his mother. He stabbed her to death in front of Ricardo! Ricardo went to live with an uncle who abused him as well. He hit him and beat him and Ricardo made some references to sexual abuse, but he wouldn’t go there with me. I feel SOOOOOOO bad for him. He’s such a sweet guy. How did he turn out so great? He ran away from that sicko uncle of his and lived on the streets hustling. Why do young people sell drugs? Because they have to, that’s why. What other choice did he have? He used money to buy a cheap digital camera. He took pictures with it all the time, but didn’t have a computer so he just looked at them on the little display and when it got full he deleted the old ones to make room for new ones. Now he has a computer and he saves his best photos. He showed me some of his favorites and they are INCREDIBLE!! Totally amazing. He took this one of a homeless guy that would just break your heart. The guy lives in a cardboard box and moves his stuff around in an old shopping cart, but honestly he looks so happy to me. This whole experience has really opened my eyes to the world. I’ve learned more out here than I ever did in school. I think about that cardboard box picture a lot. I had a nice house and everything, but I felt so alone. The guy with the box has nothing, but he looked so happy in that photograph. Explain that one to me, will ya? Xoxo world! J. Barlow!