Accident Prone: A Novel, Page 5

check it over, but I have to say I’m very impressed.” Gail said. “I’ve never seen anyone pick up on how to use the computer this fast. Most people are scared to even try it. I guess you’re not most people.”

  Marion blushed.

  Her triumph provided to be short lived.

  When she came back from lunch, Marion found to her horror that the IBM no longer turned on. Marion couldn’t understand what had happened. Gail had said there was nothing she could do break the machine, and yet she had somehow done the impossible. She repeatedly pushed CTRL + ALT + DEL to restart to the computer all to no effect.

  It was only when she looked into the trash can next to her desk did she understand. Someone had unplugged the power cord from the back of her machine and threw it out. To add insult to injury, a large amount of water had been poured into the trash can and the cord was drenched.

  Briefly, Marion thought about cleaning the cord off and plugging it back in, but an inner voice told her that was nuts. Do you want to blow up the stupid machine? No. She had to tell Gail, and that was something that didn’t sit well with her at all. How could she have been so stupid! She had drawn attention to herself, and that was bad. She was supposed to be invisible. That’s how you survive, by fading into the background and not making yourself a target. But, what was done was done, as her grandfather would say. So summoning up whatever little courage she had, Marion marched into Gail’s office.

  Gail eyed her suspiciously. When Marion finished explaining what had happened, Gail asked: “Is someone giving you trouble?”

  Marion shook her head. There were certain things you never did. One was never stand out: always be invisible. Another was never be a snitch. The bad things in your life need to be kept secret. After all, if you can’t take care of your own problems then you deserved what you got, don’t embarrass yourself trying to drag someone else in to your drama.

  “Okay,” Gail said. “I think we have some spare cords. I’ll find one and bring it to you.”

  Marion nodded and started to leave.

  “Marion,” Gail said, her voice was gentle but firm, “You really need to tell me if there is a problem.”

  Marion nodded, and once out of Gail’s sight, she made a quick dash back to her desk.

  Gail came by a few minutes later, and dropped off the new cord along with her floppy desk. She said nothing, and simply walked back to her office. Marion realized she had probably just lost the only friend she had.

  Marion sighed. It was bound to happen, eventually. It always did. Marion resigned herself to try to work harder. And more importantly, she would do her best to not to draw any more attention to herself.

  The rest of the day was mercifully uneventful. As she was about to leave for the day, she was seized by an idea. Cautiously she unplugged the power cord from the back of the IBM, then for good measure unplugged the cord to the monitor too. She put the cords and her floppy in a desk drawer and locked the whole shebang up for the night. She hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble for doing that, but better that than to have someone mess with her computer again.

  Her hopes were dashed the next morning. It was pretty clear that someone had tried to open the desk drawer. The drawer was open as far as the lock would allow. She closed it and started to fumble for keys. It was then that Marion noticed that the framed picture of her mom had been knocked to the floor. She turned the frame over. The glass was shattered. Marion saw red, but the storm quickly passed. She was at work and had to put her best face forward.

  Marion dumped the frame and picture in the trash. Then she set about cleaning as much glass as she could find. When that was done she unlocked the desk. From there she retrieved her two power cords and floppy and hooked everything back up. She focused on her work and did her best to pretend that nothing was wrong. She had had a lot of practice in pretending.

  “Sister,” her brother James called out. They didn’t hug, not because it was against the rules, more that they were a family that didn’t believe in showing public affection. They sat down at a table. The guard who escorted James into the visiting room took his place a respectful, but not stupid, distance away.

  Marion let James lead the conversation, as he was more of the talker in the family.

  “How are things?” He asked.

  “Got a new job.” Marion answered.

  “Really? Do you like it?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’m sorry I won’t be out in time for Thanksgiving.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t like leaving you alone for the holidays, sister. Is there anyone...”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  ‘Should be home for Christmas, though.”

  “I have a new place. You can stay with me when you get out.”

  James groaned.

  “Guess what, I got a letter from the Breakwater today. They’re going to auction off all my stuff because I never picked it up.”

  “It’s not important.” Marion reassured him.

  “It is important, sister!” James shouted.

  The guard quickly turned his head. James put up his hands and smiled. The guard looked away. James lowered his voice.

  “Those white assholes did nothing but harass me the entire time I stayed there.” James whispered. His voice was harsh and Marion didn’t like the tone. She said nothing as James continued, “I paid my rent on time every month but they kept locking me out of my room. They turned off the hot water one day out of the blue. Shut it right off and never turned it back on. I was working nights up at Mike’s you know until fishing season starts, and that fucking maintenance man would knock on the door every morning at 8 am. He always wanted to check the pipes. What a bunch of crap.”

  “Just let it go,” Marion pleaded.

  “I can’t let it go. Those fuckers got away with that shit just because I’m Native.”

  James was staring to raise his voice again but caught himself before he altered the guard.

  “Look the only thing I want is my stuff back. They can keep their stupid deposit. A lot of it was mom’s, you know, and I don’t want to lose it.”

  Marion nodded.

  “They never served me an eviction notice. They broke the law.”

  The irony of that last statement was lost on James.

  “I just don’t see how fighting them will do any good.”

  ‘Sister, you can’t let people just walk all over you.” James said. “You don’t want to end up like mom, do you?”

  Marion sighed.

  “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  James nodded.

  “I’m sorry.” Her brother said. “You came all the way out here and all I’m doing is bitching.”

  “Do you think grandfather has a copy of that picture of mom? You know, the one where she is in full Native regalia.”

  “I think so... why?”

  “I lost my copy.” Marion lied.

  “Do you want me to ask him? The next time I see him?”

  Marion nodded. James knew that she never would. Marion loved her grandfather deeply, but she was also a little afraid of him. She had seen her grandfather covered in blood on more than one occasion. Their grandfather lived off the land and whenever they went over to his house he was usually in the middle of skinning some freshly killed animal. He also spoke little English, preferring to speak in his Native tongue. James, ever the social butterfly, spoke Abiectio fluently. For the most part he used it pick up college chicks who wanted to get in touch with nature, but it was also handy when speaking with the village Elders. Everyone back in village agreed that James would probably have a high position on the council if wasn’t so anglicized.

  “Sam tells me I’ve been getting a lot of weird phone calls...”

  ‘What?” Marion had been lost in thought and hadn’t heard what her brother said.

  “Sam...tells...me...I’ve...been...getting...a...lot...of...weird...phone..calls.”

  Her brother was being a little brat and s
poke in a slow drawn out voice just to annoy her.

  Sam was their cousin and one of the prison guards here. The only Native one, it should be noted. Occasionally their cousin would have to put up with some shit from the white guards, but Sam got along remarkable well with the prison population, most of whom were Natives from the surrounding villages.

  Marion admired their cousin greatly. She thought Sam was very brave. Sam also looked out for James while he was in prison, making sure her brother always had enough to eat, keeping him company, and kept him from getting picked on by the white guards.

  “Someone keeps calling and asking for me then hangs up. It got so bad that they had to unplug the phone.”

  “Is it Crystal?” Marion asked.

  It was a valid question. Crystal was the crazy white woman who was her brother’s girlfriend. She was nice enough when she was sober, but she wasn’t sober very often. She liked to drink but couldn’t handle her liquor. In fact the incident that had landed James in prison for a year was a direct result of Crystal getting wasted. She had been drinking most of the night. James was as sober as a judge. Like Marion, James never drank. That, as it turned out, was a problem. Crystal became upset because James wouldn’t share a beer with her and she started hitting him, hard! James was a gentle soul and would never hit a woman. So he just stood there and took it. At some point one of the neighbors must have called the police. By the time the cops showed up one of James’ eye was completely swollen shut and there were deep bruises all over his arms. Crystal was screaming that James had beat her up, even though there wasn’t a mark on