Yellow Light
Yellow Light
Yellow Light
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It's not the first time she takes a hit instead of her brother but certainly, it's the first that
leaves an actual bruise—that should be his. Then she realizes the truth, an obvious but not
less concerning one:
They'd hit again if they had the chance. Harder, that's for sure.
Maybe, just maybe… No. Terrible idea. Patricia should just try her luck and appeal to their
soft side, Lucas is too young for that. …They won't listen.
You said that not me. But, my dear, do you have any ideas of how to overcome this
problem? I do.
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It's a rare sight: it's snowing at the same time it's raining. In New Orleans, of all places.
Tricia, you are a lucky kid. Or not, it is hard to guess.
She set her bike that evening the same way she set Lucas’. Patricia also told the youngster
to ready his backpack with clothes and things he might need, some food, all the cash he
could get, and meet her when their parents were asleep.
In the meantime, she gathered as many batteries as she could for her hearing aids, packed
most of her clothes, snatched a heavy blanket for Halliday, stole borrowed all the money she
found lying in her parent's wallets—about $109—, and packed all her remedies. Patricia also
snatched a half-eaten cookie pack.
All burdened, shielded head to toe against the cold, and Halliday set on the carrying cart
behind, both of them began their journey. It's quite a distance between the French Quarter to
the Ninth Ward.
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Patricia's legs hurt and she starts to question if it's from Baptiste’s belt buckle labored
against her tights earlier or if it's from pedaling so much. Lucas complained about it slightly
already, but they're so close that would be a shame to stop now.
Her bicycle’s flashlight makes it only a little easier to see, and it hasn't stopped either raining
or snowing, and it's a pain having to clean her glasses frequently.
Lucas sneezes behind her and Halliday barks, probably startled, but the sounds fail to reach
her ears with that well-known amplified noise & static, which makes up a new problem of the
batteries running low at the worst moment ever, and this means that if someone shouts at
them, follows them or worse, she won't hear. Even if Halliday notices, she won't listen to the
noise and take the hint, and Lucas is too tired to mind something besides the cold and his
shore butt, and if it happens, sure, they win in numbers—and in her mind, with help of a few
ninja moves—, but lose in method because Lucas is a tired 8 years old, she's just way too
weak now to counter and Halliday, even though he's a good and strong dog, cold get hurt
easily and–
Oh, hey. Isn't that porch from the Johnsons? Hi Zoe, hi Bruce.
Surprise!
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Miss Johnson showed up not long after Patricia rang the bell for the fifth time and went for
the sixth. First, she was confused, and next, she realized that things were quite more
complex than just a sole Patricia Mendelsohn-Bertrand showing up in the middle of the night,
because Halliday barked and his wagging tail must’ve hit Lucas enough times for him to tell
the dog to stop and force Miss Johnson to acknowledge their presence.
It didn't take a genius to see that they were looking for a place to spend the night.
“What are [you] waiting for? [Come] inside, kids,” God, Tricia needs to change the batteries
as soon as possible, lip reading in this state of tiredness is trickier. She goes to them, helps
Halliday out of the cart, and tells Lucas to go inside and ask if they could sleep on the couch
while she saves their bikes.
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Halliday it's a pretty obedient dog, he never does something he's not supposed to and stays
put where you point him to be, that's why Patricia is not surprised with him sitting next to the
door, dripping and shivering on the mat. On the other hand, she's surprised Lucas hasn't
called the animal yet, considering he's very attached to the pup.
Patricia was drying herself, that heavy snow-furred clothing must be somewhere else with
Lucas’ own, and let it pass for the first time she paced from the kitchen to the living room.
The second time she sees it, is when going from one room to another because they are
hungry and she thinks that real food is better than a half-eaten cookie pack.
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“Why is Halliday still on the door?” she says after downing a grilled cheese, slowly signaling
for Lucas to catch up easily. He's exhausted, awake only because he just finished eating. “Is
there any towel Miss J gave that we can use to dry him?”
Lucas yawns, but answers still, “Miss Johnson said that he couldn't leave the door because
she thinks he'll mess up the house.” Well, that makes sense. His tiny body slightly begins to
slide down onto the sofa, but he does his best to keep talking. “I think… I think she said she
left a towel in the kitchen? Not sure.”
Tricia nods and kisses his forehead, right after he closes his eyes, and covers him with one
of the blankets Miss J left for them. Then she goes get the towel for Halliday—and wash the
dishes of their little feast. After she dries most of him, takes the dripping mat somewhere
else, and cleans everything up—putting extra effort in being silent—, she calls Halliday with
a wave and points to Lucas and he immediately props himself at the foot of the couch where
Lucas is sleeping. This get a smile from her.
She lays on the sofa, glasses and hearing aids resting on the center table but she never took
her eyes off of the youngster. Her thighs still ache, but she doesn't mind since it's not that
important right now.
And she drift into a well-deserved sleep. Tomorrow she can worry about what they will do,
and how she'll convince Miss J that Halliday would never make a mess of her beautiful
house and carpet, and explain things further. Tomorrow.
For now, she's too busy snoring loudly and trembling a little because she forgot to use a
blanket, but it's fine. Patricia will never know a certain girl did it for her, and it's fine too.