Recall

Recall

J.M.Blondin

5/26/15

 

 

I’m sitting in the living room watching some brainless show on the television; there is an hour left before I had to leave and I really have nothing better to do. The doorbell rings, I heard it but I am not going to answer, moms here, she will, that’s her job. It rings again, then again and then a third time in quick secession. Without looking around I yelled,

“Maaaaa, get the doooooor!” I heard her yelling back from the other end of the house.

“I’m in the bathroom, you get it.” The hell I will I thought. Leaning forward in my chair a bit I could see out to the front window. There sits a big black four-door monster of a car on the edge of the street, its front wheel on the grass and the bumper almost touching the mailbox. The car windows were heavily tinted so I can’t see in. There is some kind of sign on the door but I unable to read it.

            Some shit assed salesman I think as I shifted in my chair looking back to the flat screen. The doorbell rings again for a longer time. OK so the ass is now leaning on the damn button.

“Maaaaaa … it’s for you!” I lied. I’m going to leave here to go over to Johnny’s in 55 minutes. I am NOT getting up yet. I need to rest up, it’s a five block walk to his house, and I have to be ready and rested if I am going to beat him at STARBLOCK tonight. He has won every time we played since he got that damned game. I wish mom would get a car so she could drive me then I wouldn’t have to walk so far, it tires me out.

            The doorbell rings again and again and again. Mom walks in from the hall and stops staring at me, ring…. Ring goes the bell again. I am really getting tired of this shit. “Why didn’t you get the door honey” in her placating voice as she buckles her belt. Ignoring her at first I look to see the clock over her shoulder. “Because” in my why are you even asking this tone, “I have 53 minutes before I have to leave for Johnny’s, I’m resting.”

“For the love of God” she mutters softly shaking her head. She heads for the door. Ring… ring… ring. She open the door and says in her “”very angry voice.”” “What the do you want and get off that button!” She is trying to impress me… again. “Hello, my name is Ross. You are Mrs. Osa Jacobs?” says a high pitched reedy voice.

Looking over I see mom take that stance she uses when she is trying to be defiant. She tries to use it with me but it doesn’t work. I am in charge here. I might only be 15 but I know as well as she does who rules here, 51 minutes to go.

She looks quickly over at me and I give her that “”don’t look at me look. You deal with it.”” and I turn back to my show.

“Yes I’m Mrs. Jacobs,” she says turning back to the door, “what can I do for you?”

I could hear Ross clear his throat. His voice now sounds like a strangled duck. “Ahum… I am here from The Child Placement Center, Stork Assignment Bureau, Directions, and Locations Division.” “So what’s that got to do with me?” says mom trying again to be stern. I can hear papers rattle.  “You have a daughter, one Jackie Jacobs, is that correct?”

I look over again and see mom looking at me with a questioning look. I shake my head and point to the clock mouthing, “I have 50 minutes, I am not here.” I give her my best “”do not fuck this up”” look and turn back to the TV. Thumbing the remote I drop the volume some, I want to hear what the ass has to say.

“So what’s this all about and please do not give me a run around, I have thing to do.” Says mom. Yeah I think like get rid of ole duck voice he’s annoying me.

“Mrs. Jacobs, it seems, according to our records, that some 15 years ago there was a mistake made in the delivery of one female child to this location. It seems that the child was defective and was under recall but somehow this one slipped through and was placed.”

“OH” said mom.

I did not even look at her, she knows better than to mess up my evening plans. “Yes“said Ross. “And I’m sorry that it took us so long to rectify this error but we always do make the corrections even if it takes a while. You know how big corporations are, we place millions of children every day all over the world. Sometimes mistakes happen, we do our very best, but sometimes things slip through.”

“Recall you say,’’ Mom says. “Defective…what does that mean to me?” I get up and move to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door and grab the milk. Stepping over to the dining room where I can see the door I twist off the top of the jug, drop it on the floor, and take a big swig. I can see Ross standing just outside the screen door.

He is a mouse of a man, balding with a thin mustache. He is wearing a gray pin stripped suit two sizes too big. He is looking down at several sheets of paper that he keeps shuffling trying to find something, mumbling to himself as he searches.

            “Ah yes, here it is” he says shaking the proper sheet up to mom. “Defective report number ABR128764-331, dated April 1, 2000. It states that one female child produced today was found to be defective due to a ‘practical joke’ played on the production line when the sperm was tampered with prior to insertion.

The employee, one William Biggs Peonis was fired after it was found that he had intentionally tamper with the cell, looking down at the paper, “as a joke,” he said

Reading from the page Ross continued. “I thought it would just be discharged without attachment,” Williams further explained as he cleared out his locker. “All children being genetically corrected prior to insertion I just assumed that the egg would reject the sperm.”

            Ross looked up and past mom, he saw me standing there. His beady eyes narrowed as he stopped talking. I smiled as I set the jug of milk on the table. Mom would put it away, that also was her job. Looking at the clock as I headed back to the living room, 48 minutes to go. Ass hole, I thought as I walked past the open refrigerator and went back to my chair in front of the television. I hear mom say, “Defective…. tampered with the sperm, you don’t say” a new note to her voice, one that I do not like. It usually means she’s thinking again.

“Yes ma’am, tampered with, that’s what it says here in the report. I have been sent to correct this problem, and that is what I‘m here to do. We, of course, offer you a replacement of the same gender and age without defect if you wish and compensation for the years that the defect has been in your home.”

            “So…. Ahh how do you do that?” Mom was stuttering when she asked. Mom only shutters when she is not sure of what to say. I don’t like the direction this conversation is going. I do not like the tone of her voice I can tell you that. Turning in my chair I look at mom.

“Tell him you’re not interested and go make me a sandwich, I’m hungry, and I have“looking to the clock. “46 minutes before I am leaving for Johnny’s.” Mom just looks at me. Nope, I do not like this at all. “Mom…. Now..I am hungry” now using my get moving voice.

 “Defective….. Recall?” I hear her say again. Once again Ross clears his throat noisily. “Yes ma’am.. it seems from the report here, page two, section 11 from the trial of Mr. Peonis, that, and I am quoting here,  “I took out the gene that makes the child docile and placed the arrogant one in. The gene was in an old beaker that I found in the back of one of the storage cupboards; I just knew that the egg would reject the sperm cell because of the foreign gene and I thought it would drive the guys down the line crazy trying to figure out what happened end quote” Ross said with a flourish.

            I did not even look at mom I just said loud enough for her to hear me over Ross,

“MOM…. NOW” I used my “”now or there will be hell to pay”” tone. There was no mistaking that I mean business. This bullshit with Ross had gone far enough. Getting up from my chair I rounded it and walked over to mom’s side. I could see that Ross was startled by my presents.

“Recall” mom mumbled again. “So what are you going to do now little man?” I said to him, “little man in the big car! Mom I will deal with this, go… make… me… a… sandwich.” 

Using my shoulder and hip I pushed her aside so that I was facing Ross straight on. I can see just how far his hairline had receded because I’m taller than he is. 

“So what’s this recall business?’’ I said. This time I used the ““you are so fucking stupid that I cannot believe I am wasting my breath on you”” tone. It worked like a charm, he quickly stepped back dropping the papers. I looked down with a smile as they fluttered down spreading across the sidewalk and over his bright blue shoes. Blue shoes? My mind struggles with this. Blue shoes with a gray pin stripped suit…..bright blue shoes? As I look back up at Ross I started to say,

“Blue shoes with a gray suit…?” That is when I notice the box thing he was now holding, it had some kind of glass lens on the front and a big red button on the top. Ross was smiling as he said in a much more manly tone, “I am from The Child Placement Center, Stork Assignment Bureau, Directions, and Locations Division and you are….”, as he pushed the button on the top.

The last thing that I heard was mom saying…..

“Recalled, did you say recalled?”

 

J.M.Blondin

5/26/15