9 - Externalities

Jewel kept her tongue to herself. It was clear from the bounce in the shoulder and the dance in her toe that she was ready to leave. Her to be matron of honour was squeezing her husband and kissing him while her to be bridesmaid closed the trunk of Jewel’s car.

“Get them home safe, J.” The husband slapped his wife’s butt.

“I won’t lose both of them.” Jewel grinned. “But, really, is it really so important to get her home safe? That’s why I’m bringing the spare.”

“Hey!” It was Brandy who appeared offended. Her sister just shrugged, eyeing the husband lasciviously. This was all for comedic effect, by her forced laugh a moment later. Her future wedding party were twins. Brandy and Barbara were shortish sisters and natural blondes. They were twenty four, like Jewel, and Barbara, the unmarried, had taken to dyeing an underlayer of her hair a beautiful gradient of forest green through to sky blue. They were indistinguishable from behind and Barbara stood out like a Las Vegas street sign from the front.

“Whatever, J. Have a good trip!” He kissed his wife a last time and said, “I’ll see you on Monday. Love you.”

“Love you.” More hugging. More time. Jewel kept her smile up. No one believed her.

“Shotgun!” Barbara called. She was pulled in for a goodbye hug, as was Jewel.

“I thought we’d never get out of there!” Jewel pulled off the comedic edge to her frustration much better than Barbara could act. The three women piled into Jewel’s fiance’s car had headed out of the little suburb.

“Oh he was just being sweet,” Brandy snorted after she had buckled up in the backseat. She took out her phone and broadcasted her Spotify to the car radio. “Turn it up! Turn it up!”

The bass heavy EDM echoed through the car under Barbara’s fingers. The brightly colored twin slapped both hands off the roof.

“Oh my God! I needed out of that place!” She squealed. “No offense, B.”

“We need you out too.” The blonde twin reached ahead and grabbed her sister’s shoulder and squeezed. “Whatever, it’s been too long! My girls! My husband’s credit card! Montreal! This is going to be a hell of a weekend!”

“I’m taking you for very important wedding purposes.” Jewel lectured. Her heart was in her throat. “I choose where we go.”

“No problem.” Brandy said bouncing and dancing. “You’ve got great taste. I’ll blow money in whatever store you take me too.”

“Can we get some bumps this weekend? Or at least some molly?” Barbara asked. “Really party.”

“You turn into a total slut on coke, B.” Said the blonde twin.

“We all do.” Jewel pointed out. The girls squealed in laughing cheers. “This is for the wedding, can’t do that. Maybe a bit of molly.”

“Oh yeah!” Barbara danced and grinned. “This is going to be awesome.”

“Um, J? You just turned right. Quebec is left.” Brandy frowned when they got out onto the highway.

“Yeah, there’s a run I need to do first.”

“Moncton?” Barbara asked. “Ugh, almost wish you did it first. No, it’s cool, I just really want to get out of this godforsaken province.”

“Well, there’s good news on that front.” Jewel said with a smile.

Hafnan thanked the friendly French interpreter after they had landed at Halifax Stanfield International Airport. The trip had been an adventure. Mlle leCarre had sat with her in first class. Hafnan’s smile was still heady from the drinks. She pulled her luggage on its handle and followed the bilingual signs out of customs.

Natasha wasn’t waiting for her. Hafnan walked past the waiting families and took a seat at the nearby steel benches and watched the door. Her heel bounced excitedly. This was her first time in another country, well her first time she had been old enough to remember. She had been born in France but had moved to Egypt to be with her father by the age of four. She looked around at all of the people with alcoholized big eyes. January wasn’t the busiest time for an airport.

A slender woman with strawberry blonde hair and large glasses chirped into her headset as she headed out of the airport. She was leggy, professional, in a sleek black suit under a fur lined leather jacket. Hafnan thought better of it and didn’t call out. Instead, she looked away from the people to the grand windows. Piles of snow clung to the top of the parking structure across the drop off lane. Brown grass poked feebly out of the light fall on either sides of the pavement.

“There you are, Hafnan.” Natasha clapped over her maid’s shoulder and had her jump. “Up. Up. Up. Time to go.”

“Mademoiselle? Nous parlons anglais? Vous avez dit qu’ils parlent français au Canada. Je n’est pas confortable avec--”

“Yes, yes, you will try your best.” Natasha was pulling on thin leather gloves. She wore a heavy coat and fluffy earmuffs. Hafnan looked down at herself. Her own jacket was thin leather. She wore a light sweater and jeans. She didn’t have gloves or any winter headgear. There was a headscarf packed in her bag. She reached for the zipper.

“Vite! Vite! Our car away awaits.” Natasha grabbed Hafnan’s hand and it was all the maid could do to snap back and grab the handle of her bag to roll it with her.

“Miss Natasha. I try English. I will try English.”

“Yes, you improve quickly.” She said. “The French parts of Canada are to the west, you see.”

“The woman ... In customs ... French to me.” Hafnan struggled. “Speak! The customs woman speak French to me.”

“Spoke.” Natasha corrected. “Our car driver is not English. Only speak French when we are keeping secrets.” She smiled and Hafnan nodded.

“Mademoiselle, Giselle part dans le voiture devant.” Hafnan pointed to the black sedan pulling out and leaving the airport. The winter air hit her when they passed through the large revolving doors.

“Damn.” Natasha beamed. “Hopefully our driver will go faster. Come on. Vite!”

Hafnan ran, wishing she had too extra hands to cover her freezing ears.

Owen sat in the hospital bed. He had been given some codeine for the pain. He looked disappointed at his replaced cast. He missed the bright colors of the girls’ signatures. His doctor was a short Chinese man. The nurse was cute. She gave him a tired eye when he smiled at her.

“The X-Rays are good. It’s only a black eye. No sign of concussion, but we’re keeping you until morning to be certain.” The doctor was saying. “The fracture at the end of your ulna is healing nicely but you probably shouldn’t have gotten into a fight.”

“Thanks, I’ll stick to river dancing while I heal.” Owen grinned.

“Do you want something for the pain? I can give you a short prescription but I don’t think this calls for much more than ibuprofen.” He said.

“No, I’ll handle it with Tylenol. Thank you, Doc.” Owen nodded.

“That’s all me.” The doctor stepped back with a smile. He turned and a policeman and policewoman were waiting. “He’s all yours, boys.”

“Mr MacKay?” The man was older by fifteen years than the woman. She was approaching thirty. It was hard to gauge a figure under an armored vest but she had a pretty face. Soft features and her hair was in a tightly braided updo. The white clip holding the brown hair tight was in the shape of a clamshell.

“Hi, are the girls OK?” Owen asked.

“Yes, they’re waiting for you.” Lady cop answered.

“This is all pretty cut and dry. It was an altercation over ... Elizabeth Stanford.”

“Uh, yeah, I think she was ... I-don’t-know-his-name’s girlfriend when we started hooking up.” Owen agreed.

“Yeah, I guess the first question is whether or not you’ll be pressing charges,” the policeman asked. “Look, neither of you have records and you came out OK. A small fight that ended quickly. It’s probably a sure thing but if he affords a good lawyer the whole court circus’ll be as much an expense and a frustration for you as him. He won’t get much more than some community service and maybe a fine.”

“OK.” Owen nodded.

“OK, you won’t press charges?”

“OK, that’s option one.” Owen shook his head.

“Well, if you don’t and you make this a civil matter or you need insurance, you’ll still have officer Keating’s report.” He gestured to his partner. She sneered at him. “So you’re not closing off all of your bases.”

“Look, he’s not just telling you we’re near the end of our shift.” The policewoman tried to joke. The men in the room didn’t rise to it. She soldiered on. “Is Miss Stanford choosing to remain involved with you?”

“I’d expect so.” Owen said.

“Well, the less you force her ex to be close to you, the sooner you can get them permanently apart.” She said. “Saves you a lot of headaches and gets him out of your hair and hers. Plus, as Officer Mulhaney said, you’ll have our report to cover your bases.”

“Don’t be starting that we shit, Isabel. You’re on paperwork for--”

“Not in public, Stan.” She hissed out her partner’s given name. He stopped. “Sorry, sorry. You right handed?”

“Yeah,” Owen raised his cast.

“Here you go, Keating.” He placed the cop car keys in his partner’s hand. “I’m clocking out. The new girlfriend’s in radiology.”

“Professional, Stan.” She forced a more neutral face and turned to Owen, “I’ll pull up a chair and help you through it all.”

“Um, I can still charge the guy right?” Owen asked. Stan had disappeared around the corner of the door. The cop wasn’t a tiny girl, but a 5’8’’ woman having to take in the 6’4’’ meat slab that had punched out Owen required a large amount of compliance. Especially, since he wasn’t currently sitting in the back of the police car.