Waiting
“Ellie’s back.”
Pike looks up. Briefly—then returns to her work. The fuel won’t make itself, and the fine people of Jackson don’t seem to understand what ‘rationing’ is, no matter how many times she spells it out at the town meetings. “That’s good.” A pause.
Salvo looks exasperated. “You don’t even—don’t you want to see her? She’s—”
She gives him an incredulous look. “You think she wants to see me?”
Salvo pauses. Spreads his hands. “Okay—maybe not you—but—”
“I’ll see her when she’s ready, Sal. Whenever that is.” It could be a hundred years from now and that’d be fine by Pike.
"But—"
"Salvador. Can't you be doing anything else?"
---
Pike and Joel get along. Well enough, anyway. He doesn’t say much. She doesn’t say much. They trade the barest of pleasantries and get on with their lives. Not like Tommy—he just wants to talk and talk and talk.
She doesn’t know how Maria puts up with it. Maybe it’s nice to have someone occupy that silence.
She knew what Joel was within minutes of meeting him. Couldn’t hide it—she could taste it in the air, hard and bitter. She wasn’t much different, and in a way, that was comforting.
---
How did she get into Jackson? Funny story. Tommy loves to tell it—and Pike hates to hear it told.
He needs to be a few drinks in. Then, Tommy usually tells it like this:
“So I was just walking along the walls, minding my own business. You know me.
And suddenly—there’s the girl, walking along. And she doesn’t look up! There’s a whole dam, with walls and everything, and she doesn’t look up!
So I say, ‘hey, you!’ And she finally looks up. Glares up. And she says, ‘what?’ Like I’m an idiot. And I say, ‘where are you going?’ and she says, ‘away from here.’ So I’m thinking, ‘damn, she’s a tough son of a bitch,’ not flinching with a rifle trained on her. So I say, ‘you want to come in?’ And she says, ‘no.’”
That’s when people start laughing, Maria especially. “And she keeps walking. Right out of sight! And I think, ‘she’s something else.’ But a week later, she’s walking by again! And I say, ‘hey!’ And she barely looks up. I tell her she can come inside, if she wants. And she walks almost the whole way past Jackson before she stops and shrugs and says ‘fine.’ And she comes in like it’s no big thing!”
That gets a lot of laughs. Pike is glad—looking back—that Tommy didn’t shoot her, or she didn’t shoot Tommy. The truth of how they met is less pleasant, makes for a less comical story. But she lets him tell that version, because—well, it’s for the best.
---
“Can you watch JJ?”
Pike stares at Robin. “What?”
“It’s just for the afternoon.” Robin gestures out the window. “You know Cole. Cancer got him. He’s at the end of his rope, and—gonna sit with him as he goes. I owe him that much. After all this.” Robin gestures again, this time at everything and nothing.
Pike balks. She shoves her fists into her pockets. She squints down at the floorboards and frowns and creases her brow and scratches at her face, but woe to her, she can’t find a way out of this one. God knows Robin has covered her ass a hundred times in this damned town. “I… well, alright. Since you asked.”
Robin rolls his eyes. “I’m not asking a lot, here, Molly. Cut the shit. Your next patrol—”
He’s not. He’s really not. Pike knows that. But she’s not a ‘kid’ person. She’s not like Cat or Dina. But: “I said I’d do it.”
---
JJ wants a story. Or a lullaby. Pike’s not sure. It’s only seven o’clock at night and the kid is yawning. This is ridiculous. She thought he’d be running around until midnight. Aren’t kids supposed to be full of energy, or something? Why does he want to turn in now? Damn it—
Pike wracks her brain, exhuming old memories she had hoped would stay still and buried. It’s been years and years. Finally, something comes to mind, faint, yes, but:
“He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank a-way his mem-o-ry
Life is short but this time it was big-ger
Then the strength to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pil-low
With a note that said I’d love her ‘til I die
And when we bur-ied him be-neath the wil-low
The angels sang a whiskey lul—”
JJ was staring up at her, eyes wide, his brow furrowed. His little hands were pulling at the lapels of her jacket, either to get her to stop, or—
“It’s alright, buddy,” she says, suddenly tired. “I’ll… think of another one. I’ve got more.”
It’s a lie. She doesn’t. But JJ falls asleep, anyways, perhaps out of some charity. Pike falls asleep with him soon after. Her snores are quiet enough not to wake him.