Uncapped

"No, no, don't you remember? Tomorrow is don't need wear you no clothes to school tomorrow, you don't remember that?" Bobby said as he grabbed the hamper.

"Daddy!" both Samantha and Nicole squealed, horrified.

"Michelle, got you some quarters?" Bobby asked.

"Purse is right there," Michelle snapped. "Where you been?"

Bobby found a few quarters in her wallet and bustled out of the apartment. Only one of the Latin women was in the laundry room so there were a few unoccupied machines. Bobby loaded the machines and fed quarters into the slots, then took a seat.

While he was sitting in the dank, noisy laundry room, Age called him. The Latin woman studiously ignored Bobby as he chatted with the young girl.

"I'm just laying here, naked as the day I was born," Age husked into the phone. "And I got my hand between my legs, wishing you were here to lick me there."

"Man, wish I was there too," Bobby said, imagining the attractive girl laying, nude on her futon.

The washing machines finished battering the clothes, so, phone jammed against his head, Bobby loaded the clothing into two dryers. The Latin woman showed a little humanity when she picked up one of Nicole's wet socks from the floor, showed it to Bobby, then tossed the sock into the appropriate dryer. She nodded when he nodded his thanks.

"That, what you was doing with my butt," Age continued her erotic assault. "Wish you were doing that right now. I'd be on my knees, reaching back, spreading my butt wide for you."

"Next time? Ain't going be my finger," Bobby whispered.

"Ooh," Age let out a low moan. "You going stick that big old monster up there? Huh Bobby? Going stick your big old dick up there?"

The girls were in bed when Bobby returned to the apartment. Michelle was not happy that it had taken so long to do the clothes, but Bobby blamed it on the Latin Trio and Michelle clammed up.

"Man, see?" Bobby said quietly. "Told you this wasn't no good."

"What?" Michelle snapped.

"See, that right there? You 'bout bite my head off," Bobby sadly pointed out.

They readied for bed. Then, in the dark bedroom, both lay in bed, trying hard not to accidentally nudge the other.

"I'm sorry," Michelle whispered. "Didn't think it'd be so stressful."

"What kind of stress there is? You flop on your back and say 'hurry up, you ain't finished yet? What wrong, why you taking so long? Come on, them girls be back any minute now,'" Bobby wanted to say, but feigned sleep instead.

In the morning, Bobby helped the girls dress for another day at school, made sure they had their homework in their back packs, made sure their lunches were packed into their back packs while Michelle made breakfast. Then, Michelle gave the three of them kisses as she dashed out of the apartment.

Bobby made sure the girls got on their bus before driving to his job. He tapped his horn as he drove past the PC Nation store his wife worked at, even though he knew she couldn't hear the horn as she stood behind the plate glass window.

At work, as he waited to clock in, Bobby and a few acquaintances swapped tales of their weekend exploits. As usual, Bobby only talked about the three women he shared an apartment with.

"Broussard, there an Ah Kay, Ah gay, something like that says you tell her give me a call?" Stan Morrison asked just as Bobby was cutting the frame of a KE Charles generator.

"Yeah, told Ah JAY give you a call since Peggy going be leaving coming next week," Bobby agreed.

"And why'd you tell Age give me a call?" Stan asked. "Only experience she got is some snow cone stand?"

"Uh huh, and 'stead just standing there? Ain't no customers? She out there, picking up garbage, making sure place looking nice and clean," Bobby explained. "Think we need us somebody like that? Don't just stand there, waiting be told what to do?"

"She ain't no good, it comes back on you," Stan said, already pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

At the end of his shift, Bobby clocked out, then grabbed his cell phone and folded up brown paper bag from his locker. The phone gave off an anemic chime, and Bobby looked at the text messages from Age Smith.

"Love you!" and an emoji of a big sloppy kiss.

>>'See? This has gone too far.'

>>'Because of the job. You got her a job. God, don't be such a dumb ass.'

"Hi!" Age squealed when Bobby called her.

"Hey, when you got come in?" Bobby asked.

"Um, Wednesday, wants me there fill out all the paperwork," Age said.

"Uh huh, and how you getting there?" Bobby asked.

"Was going give my neighbor five bucks," Age said.

"I be there 'bout quarter of eight," Bobby said. "Oh, and you either pack you a lunch, or you going be buying you a lunch from one them Pizzaco trucks."

"Hey, I uh, I got me..." Michelle said when Bobby entered the apartment.

Michelle looked at the table where both Samantha and Nicole were doing their homework. She then gave a stir to the spaghetti sauce.

"...meeting, need get ready," Michelle said, handing Bobby the wooden spoon.

"That's fine, I'm be out this Wednesday," Bobby decided. "You going need make sure they got their uniforms ready go."

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Michelle came home. She was agitated, jerky in her movements as she slammed around their bedroom, trying to get ready for bed.

In the morning, Bobby noticed Michelle's bloodshot eyes and her raw looking nose. She was also quite irritable as she tried to hurry through preparing breakfast.

Gently, Bobby took over the preparation of breakfast and Michelle sat heavily at the table. She scratched at an itch until Bobby put the four plates onto the table.

"Love you, bye," Michelle said, kissing the three of them and then dashing out of the apartment.

"God damn it, forgot my fucking purse," Michelle screeched, slamming back into the apartment.

"Um!" Nicole said, green eyes wide. "Momma just said..."

"And I wash that mouth out you say it," Bobby warned.

Tuesday night, Michelle seemed distracted, jittery as they ate dinner. Bobby reminded her that the girls school uniforms needed to be washed and she cursed under her breath as she gathered everything together.

Wednesday morning, Michelle was less jittery, but her mood had not improved. Bobby chattered with Samantha and Nicole as they went through the mad ballet of their morning.

"Breakfast," Michelle snapped, slapping the plates onto the table.

After making sure the girls got on their bus, Bobby drove to Venice Apartments. Age was waiting for him in the parking lot and bounded to the truck.

"Hi!" she said brightly, leaned over the console and kissed him.

On the drive, Age chattered, asking a million questions about the job, about Kendricks Engineering, about the others that worked there.

At the plant, Bobby walked Age into the lobby and told Tonya, the beautiful blonde receptionist that Age was there to see Stan Morrison. Tonya smiled and indicated a couch where Age could sit.

"Bye, Love, see you at lunch, okay?" Age said and gave Bobby a hug and kiss.

"Uh, hey uh Broussard, huh?" one of his coworkers said as they waited to clock in.

"I uh, man, Michelle might want quit going them tanning booths, huh?" another coworker quipped. "Getting mighty tanned there."

"Don't know what tell you," Bobby shrugged.

"Because, I really don't know what to tell you," he thought to himself as he grabbed his card and punched it.

A little while later, Bobby looked up and saw Stan giving Age a tour of the floor. He smiled and nodded when Age gave him a smile and wave, then followed Stan to another section of the plant.

At lunch time, there was no sign of Age. Bobby reached into his locker and grabbed his lunch bag. His cell phone gave out a small chirp and Bobby grabbed it.

First National Bank of DeGarde had sent him a notification; someone had tried to retrieve five hundred dollars out of their account. The ATM transaction was attempted at a kiosk near Michelle's place of employment and Bobby pursed his lips.

When they'd set up the account, both he and Michelle had agreed to place a limit of three hundred dollars for any given transaction. If they needed more money than that, they needed to go into the lobby of the bank itself and make the necessary transactions in the lobby.

Bobby used his cell phone to look at their account. His eyebrows rose as he saw fifty dollars, one hundred dollars, fifty dollars, two hundred dollars had been withdrawn from their account in the past two weeks.

"First National, this is Dennis," the manager answered his phone.

Bobby and Dennis went over the recent withdrawals, all done at the same ATM close to Michelle's place of employment. Dennis agreed to issue new cards with new numbers, cancelling the old cards.

Bobby also looked at their Visa credit card account; their emergency credit card. There were no charges to the card and Bobby used his phone to cancel that card.

"Oh, girl, what you got yourself into?" Bobby muttered and called PC Nation's headquarters in Elgee, Louisiana.

"PC Nation, Harold Doucet," a pleasant sounding man answered.

"Aw man, aw God, man! Hate doing this," Bobby said. "But my Michelle? My wife? She works at your Arrow Court store?"

Harold listened to the man's words. He listened to the man's anguish and set his jaw firmly.

"Mr. Broussard, I am not going to tell you what I plan to do, but believe me, I will handle this," Harold finally said. "And sir? I'm sorry. I am sincerely sorry for what you're going through."

"Man, Broussard, huh?" one of his coworkers teased when Bobby finally came back to his workstation. "What? Think you can take a two hour lunch or something?"

"Carl, shut up," another coworker said, seeing the defeated look in Bobby's eyes. "Broussard, anything we can do?"

Bobby just shook his head and bent to the task of cutting the frame for the next generator. The other two men bent to their own tasks.

"Broussard, your little friend? She got the job, hear?" Stan said.

"Hmm? Oh, that good news," Bobby tried to smile.

"And she makes it to her ninety day evaluation? Be another two fifty in your paycheck," Stan clapped Bobby on the shoulder.

Age was bubbly, happy, chattered non-stop from driveway to driveway. She promised she'd be ready to go, at the same time the next morning. Then she gave Bobby a soft kiss.

Bobby walked into his apartment and found a screaming Michelle ranting and raving. Samantha and Nicole were paralyzed in fear, both glued to the couch.

"Hey! Hey! What, huh? What with all this?" Bobby yelled, grabbing his wife in a fierce hug. "What? Why you screaming, carrying on like a mad woman, huh?"

"They pulled a drug test on me today!" Michelle screamed, trying to slap Bobby, trying to kick him.

"And? You go pee in a cup, say 'here you go' and that it," Bobby said. "Got be scaring the girls to death 'bout this?"

Michelle spat in Bobby's face and he released his hold of her. She stomped to the bedroom and slammed the door.

"You two, come on. We going Taco Bell, hear?" Bobby said.

Taco Bell was Samantha's favorite place and Nicole's second favorite place. Bobby wasn't in the mood for McDonald's, so Taco Bell got their business today.

"What's wrong with Mom?" Samantha dared ask the question as they sat down to eat their supper.

"I don't know," Bobby said. "Man, I just don't know."

"But a lot more the toothpaste out the tube," Bobby thought as he agreed to eat the last of Nicole's taco.

Michelle's mood was slightly better when Bobby and the girls returned. Samantha and Nicole sat at the kitchen table and did their homework. Bath time was not the usual struggle; neither girl wanted to upset their mother.

"Now, what 'bout this drug test got you all knotted up?" Bobby asked as he and Michelle lay down in their bed.

"Okay, listen, don't go getting all worked up," Michelle said, voice a harsh whisper.

She admitted to using some drugs while out with Farley and Debbie and Carlton, and Monty. With Carlton, Michelle said it had just been smoking a little marijuana.

"What? Carlton. AND Monty?" Bobby snapped. "Man, thought this was just going be one guy and..."

"I never said that," Michelle defended.

With Carlton it had been a little marijuana. With Monty, she had tried snorting meth.

"Meth!" Bobby yelled. "Oh my God, Michelle! Know what that stuff do to you?"

"It ain't that bad," Michelle denied.

"Oh, aw Jesus Christ, it ain't that bad she says," Bobby moaned.

"But I show up positive?" Michelle said. "Bobby, they can fire me for that, then what we going do?"

Harold Doucet and Richard Gerrard, the manager of PC Nation's Louisiana region met with Deborah Miller and Michelle Broussard. Both women were offered the opportunity to voluntarily check themselves into the DeGarde Chemical Dependency Unity and undergo their twenty eight day program.

"And I, if I don't want to do that?" Debbie asked, scratching at her left cheek.

"Then we will terminate your employment, Mrs. Miller," Harold Doucet said firmly.

"Oh. Oh, so, I either give up my rights, or I'm out a job, huh? Thought this was America, not no fucking Russia," Debbie snarled.

"I need talk to my husband," Michelle said, in tears.

"Of course, Mrs. Broussard," Richard Gerrard agreed.

"Listen up, bitch, you say jack 'bout me and Farley giving you that shit? We be there fuck you all up, feel me?" Debbie hissed at Michelle after the two women left Mr. Doucet's office.

"I ain't," Michelle whined.

Bobby agreed that Michelle should go in for treatment. He and Michelle hugged tightly and shed tears together. They put on a unified front as they told Samantha and Nicole that Mommy was sick, no it wasn't the cancer again, but she was sick and needed to go to the hospital and get better.

Dorothy and Don both agreed immediately to help and both Bobby and Michelle thanked them. Then Bobby left the room so Michelle could pack a suitcase.

"Oh, going start getting cold; need pack you couple sweaters maybe," Bobby said.

"Uh huh," Michelle called out as she located the small plastic envelope in her purse.

With a hug and a kiss, Bobby watched his wife and her mother leave their apartment. With a jolt, Bobby remembered that the next day was their tenth anniversary. In the madness and mayhem of the week, he hadn't even remembered to buy his wife a card.

In the morning, Bobby got the girls ready, fixed a simple breakfast of grits with chunks of ham and cheese cut up into it, then fixed their lunches while they ate.

After getting them onto their bus, Bobby drove to Age's apartment. She bounded into the truck and kissed him.

"Tried call you last night," she announced.

"Huh?" Bobby said and dug his cell phone out.

The phone was dead, no battery. Bobby shrugged and smiled sadly.

Then Bobby told Age about his family, their latest struggle. Age listened, then gently squeezed Bobby's hand.

"My sister? She was all bad into heroin," Age said. She went to that DeGarde CDU, coming up on four years clean and sober now."

She again squeezed Bobby's hand as they pulled into the parking lot. She peered into Bobby's listless eyes.

"They can do miracles, hear?" Age assured him. "That CDU? They can do miracles."

They clocked in. Then, with a hug and kiss, Age bounded away to her work station.

"Broussard, man, huh?" a coworker said, watching Age's cute rump bounce away.

"Uh huh," Bobby said.

Four days later, Michelle checked herself out of the DeGarde CDU, against medical advice. She walked the twelve miles from CDU driveway to the apartment complex, raided their apartment for anything of value, which really wasn't much, and pawned those few items. Then she went to her mother's home and tried to strong-arm some money from her mother.

Dorothy's heart was breaking, but she called the police on her only child. Then she called Bobby and left a message. Bobby did not get his mother in law's message until it was time to drive home from Kendricks.

Age watched as Bobby listened to his mother in law's message. She watched as the strong, handsome man put his head on his steering wheel and sobbed, great racking sobs.

Samantha and Nicole didn't understand why their mother had taken their money out of their small clown banks. Samantha was more upset that their mother had taken her gold cross and gold chain that Santa Claus had given to her the previous Christmas.

"Don't worry," Samantha whispered to Bobby. "I know Santa Claus ain't real."

"Aw yeah he is," Bobby smiled, kissing the girl. "How you think I got you? Santa done brought you."

"Daddy, he did not," Samantha giggled.

"But we ain't, we can't stay here no more," Bobby mused, looking around at the chaos Michelle had left behind.

The landlord was upset, but understanding when Bobby contacted him. It was hard to get long-term tenants, much less tenants that paid monthly, without fail, didn't create complaints, didn't complain too often.

Samantha and Nicole liked the Venice Apartments complex. Both girls even thought it was cool that they would be on the second floor instead of on the ground floor.

"Uh! And we even got our own bathroom!" Samantha cheered, seeing the small bathroom and shower stall.

"Man! No more having wait you quit your bath!" Bobby agreed, nodding his head.

"And Mr. Timmons said you were a real good tenant, Keisha, the apartment manager agreed.

Age helped them move. Dorothy and Don looked at the attractive African-American girl and the familiar way she touched Bobby, talked to Bobby as they labored. They looked at Bobby, then tightened their faces as Bobby blushed.

"Oh, that right?" Don asked. "She work with you?"

"Uh huh," Bobby answered as they lugged the bunkbed into the girls' bedroom.

Monday morning, Samantha and Nicole smiled when Age Smith woke them. Bobby was already in the kitchen, making their breakfast. The four sat down for breakfast, Age sitting in the seat Bobby used to sit in, Bobby now taking the seat that Michelle used to occupy.

"So you live here now?" Nicole asked as she ate her scrambled eggs.

"No, silly, she got her own apartment," Samantha rolled her eyes.

Monday morning, while Age and Bobby were making sure the girls got onto the buss, Michelle Broussard was brought in front of Judge Jesse Johnson. She was in the last stages of physical withdrawal as she stood in front of the impassive man, her court appointed representation next to her.

Judge Johnson remanded Michelle to the DeGarde CDU for their twenty eight day program and stipulated that that the CDU would make any further recommendations to the court.

"I just went there," Michelle snarled at her lawyer.

"Uh huh, and then checked yourself out," the man said, already looking for his next client among the prisoners. "This time? You don't have a choice. Your ass is staying. All twenty eight days. Blasso? Emma Blasso?"

That afternoon, as Michelle was sullenly sitting through another intake session, Samantha and Nicole were telling Age about their day at school while Bobby drove them to their new apartment. Age asked questions, clarifying that Kim was Nicole's best friend, and Andrew was a boy that Samantha thought was real cute.

In Apartment 205, Age cooked supper while Bobby helped the girls with their homework. After supper, Age also helped with homework, then joined in the playful threats to get each girl to take their shower.

"This the first time we ever had our own shower," Samantha informed Age.

"When I was your age, we didn't have showers," Bobby embellished.

"Daddy," Samantha said, already irritated with her father.

"Nope," Bobby said. "We had a rain bucket had bunch holes in the bottom."

"Then how the water not run out before you ready use it?" Age smiled.

"Ha!" Samantha crowed. "Yeah, Daddy, how the water stay in it, huh?"