The day before the bodies were found, Linda turned off the TV as her episode of “General Hospital” came to a close. She picked up the bits of chips that had wedged themselves into the couch and proceeded to shuffle to the kitchen with only one slipper on her feet. It was time for a new pair of these as she had chicken flavored Gerber baby food all over the slipper that made its pale pink color confused chartreuse. She began to clean the dishes from last night’s meal that she was too tired to clean after she ate. Linda gazed out the kitchen window as her hands moved the sponge back and forth and she watched the family next door. The father sat on the porch with his son, helping him to construct a block tower. Their house was old and worn out, and she could hear the porch cry as the boy jumped up and down claiming his architecture was all wrong. The dad comforted the son as the mother of the family walked out of the house and embraced the man while delivering him his morning cup of coffee. As Linda watched the scene unfold, a tear rolled down her cheek. She was jealous of them and she was able to admit it to herself, but admitting this wasn’t always easy. Although she had never had a conversation with the family, they constantly watched her with judgmental glares from their yard when baby Joey was at her place for the week. In one case a couple months earlier, the mother stood and stared from her porch while Damien, Linda’s ex-boyfriend, stormed out of the house with a bottle of liquor in hand. Linda often tried to ignore the glares of her neighbors, but she knew they were right. She knew they had more, and that they had what she wanted. This thought reminded her that she had to text Damien to check in. Linda had formed a habit of sending him sporadic texts that contained questions she already knew the answer to or statements that were implied by previous
conversations. This was her method to ensure that baby Joey was eating well, sleeping enough, and most importantly safe under Damien’s care. Linda had filed a restraining order against Damien a couple months ago, but was denied this by a court judge. The judge wanted actual proof of violence from Damien, and didn’t take seriously the threat of violence that Linda felt. Linda picked up her phone and entered her password: J-O-E- Y. She tried to find Damien’s contact while she pressed on the cracked screen. She clicked on the text bubble and wrote, “I’ll text you in the morning, Damien. I want to know what time you’re going to drop off Joey.” She clicked her phone off and sat down on the couch to pay some bills that Damien refused to pay. Her pink nails peaked out from the many bills as she sorted through them and completed each one carefully. She placed each bill on her coffee table next to her picture of newborn Joey in the hospital all wrapped up in a yellow blanket, and another picture of her and her mom many years ago at the beach in the summertime. A few minutes later, Linda’s joyful cellphone text-tone began to play its tune. She ran over to her phone to read and respond to the text that she hoped was from Damien. She clicked the button on the side of her phone and read the message from Damien through the shattered screen: “I’m not going to drop Joey off, Linda...Enjoy your new life without us.”