Upside Down

32

Faith Ann's favorite day of the week had always been Saturday, because it was a day she always spent with her mother doing pretty much what she liked. Either they went to a movie, the museum, a concert, or just walked around in the French Quarter dropping into galleries and shops. They had family passes for Audubon Zoo and the Aquarium of the Americas on the Mississippi River. Today would be the first different Saturday.

Faith Ann used the small Mag-Lite, as she needed it to see in the dark bunker beneath her home. She used the kitchen shears to free the Walkman from its plastic cocoon. She put in the batteries and slipped on the earplug-style phones. She put in her tape, rewound it, and pressed Play. The sound of her mother's voice coming through the earphones filled her with a deep, painful sadness. As the tape played, however, that emptiness changed into anger that she directed at the Spanish policeman who had killed her mother. After the tape ended, she turned off the player and took off the earphones. Without the earphones, the player just fit inside the sandwich bag. She laid out the poncho on the dirt and lay down in the darkness with her head resting on her pillow. She scrunched herself up into a fetal curl, buried her hands in the pouch of her sweatshirt, and stared into the shadows.

An image of Horace Pond formed in her mind. In a way, although he hadn't done the murders he was supposed to die for doing, he was kind of responsible for two. It seemed to Faith Ann that if her mother hadn't been Horace Pond's appeals attorney, she would be alive, because Amber wouldn't have ever called her. Faith Ann found herself wishing that Horace Pond had been guilty and that Amber hadn't had any evidence to prove he wasn't guilty of killing that judge and his wife. But Uncle Hank had often said, “What is, is.” It meant that you can only deal with the reality of a situation. That reality was that she had to do something or Horace Pond would die that night. But what?

God, as you know, Mama and I don't spent much time in your church. Please bless my Mama, Uncle Hank, and my Aunt Millie, who are all up there with you in Heaven. Tell them that I love them.

You know, you and me are about the only ones that know Horace Pond isn't a murderer. And just us know that Jerry man told the Spanish policeman to shoot Mama and Amber. God, we both know they'll kill me if they can get hold of me and I'm really scared to get killed, but it isn't because I don't want to go to Heaven or anything because I'm sure it's really nice. Please, Sir, I really, really, hope you can help me out. Maybe you could send an angel who can help me. Amen.