20151107 Martians Frankie's Birthday

                November 7, 2015, 7~10 PM Star Gratiot Theater, Frankie's birthday.  We are here at the Star Gratiot Theater to see The Martian in 3D.

            Monday, November 9, 2015, 3:38 PM, Sunny and warmish for November, Blue sky, a great diminishment of leaves on trees and even in yards.  People cleaned up over the weekend.

            I had a long wakeful period in the middle of the night last night.  Very long.  I am imagining that in spite of that, I feel a small increment better, or improved, rather, over yesterday.  Still, I have hip pain and tiredness and feel a little fearful setting out to walk to the library, which is 25 minutes for me each way on a good day without pain.  (later:  It took 65 minutes to walk there and back).

            Keith is going to visit his mother.  And stop at audiologist, probably first.  I've got corned beef cooking.  I was going to make chicken for myself, but I wasted the whole morning trying order scripts (and not sure everything's copacetic with that yet) and reschedule doctor appointments.  Having trouble with long distance calls, and everything practically is long distance here.  Very frustrating being kept on hold so long time after time.  And the doctor's name on the prescriptions is wrong.  That may cause a problem, cancellation or delay. 

            Ooh, squashed pumpkin, with melted face.

            *          *          *          *  EJ EJ End Journal EJ EJ

            *          *          *          * Mica Remote Witness

            So, is it a good idea to start a novel on a tenuous and difficult to believe premise, or several?  Probably not, so why do I keep doing that?

            I need an intervening chapter, maybe, before Felicia shows up at the Church and tells Mica and Sean what happened to her with the cops etc.

            *          *          *          *

            A girl screamed and it wasn't her.  Mica woke to Father Confortola saying, "Hush, hush, it's okay, little one.  Sean leaped to his feet and put his arm around someone, a girl with black hair.  Mica couldn't see her, but she could tell it was Felicia.  How did Felicia get here?

            Mica jumped up, too, and ran between the pews to where Sean was trying to reassure Felicia.  Father Confortola had backed up and looked distressed. 

            "What's wrong, Felicia?" Mica asked, but Felicia sobbed even harder. 

            Finally, she pointed at Father Confortola.  Is he b-b-bad?" she squeaked. 

            "Bad?" Mica said, "No, he's good."  She put her arm around Felicia's waist, so that Felicia was supported by of both Sean and her.  Mica noticed big dark bruises on Felicia’s neck, shoulders and arms.

            "I came to ask if you wanted to join me for breakfast," Father Confortola said. 

            "I'm hungry," Sean said.  Sean was always hungry. 

            "I could probably eat something," Mica said, more out of habit than desire.  "Felicia, are you hungry?"

            "I-I-I guess so," Felicia stammered, looking out from under her dark brows at Father Confortola. 

            "Don't worry," Sean said, "Father Confortola is kind and nice and we will be with you.  We've eaten with Father before, he is very good to us."

            "Ar-are you Catholic?" Felicia asked. 

            "No, not really," Mica said.  "My father was, and my grandparents on both sides.  I went to church with them when I was a kid, but not since then.  But it doesn't matter.  Father Confortola is kind and generous and enjoys our company, or so he says."  She laughed and smiled at Father Confortola. 

            "Come on," Sean said, "Let's go eat."  Mica and Sean held Felicia's hands as they exited the pews sideways and then followed Father Confortola out the side door of the church and into the rectory. 

            Felicia shrank back as they went in and Father Confortola shut the door behind them.  "It's okay," Sean said again.

            They sat around the breakfast nook table in a sunny kitchen while father Confortola bustled around the kitchen.  "How about huevos rancheros for breakfast, or is that too spicy this early in the morning?  I’ve got some great homemade refried beans and fantastic perfectly ripe avocados.  And the chiles aren’t too hot.”

            Felicia perked up, and actually smiled.  "I would love huevos rancheros with lots of chiles, if you have them and can spare them."

            Father Confortola beamed.  "How 'bout you two?"

            "I'm easy," Sean said, “I mean, about food choices.”  And he blushed. 

            "I knew what you meant," Father Confortola said, grinning.  Mica wondered what Father Confortola knew about sex.  Was he celibate?  Was she even allowed to wonder about that?  Then she blushed.

            Father Confortola chortled.  And went about collecting eggs, avocados, tortillas, pans, a big glass jug of refried beans and so on.  "These eggs," Father Confortola said, “are from our own chickens!"  He grinned impishly, "but I guess I should not fall prey to the sin of pride."

            "The church has a garden, chickens and goats," Sean said to Felicia, "but maybe you already knew that."

            "No," said Felicia, "It's my first time here.  I came in to pray when I couldn't find you on the beach.  And you were here, but I didn't want to wake you, so I thought I would sleep too, until you woke up."

            "You wanted to talk to us?" Mica asked.

            "Yes.  I . . . I wanted to ask for help."  She looked out of the corner of her eye at Father Confortola. 

            "Did you want me to leave?" asked Father Confortola, with twinkle in his eye. 

            "He's okay, really," Sean said for the third time.

            "I . . . l need help.  I don't know who to ask."

            "What happened?"

            "Well, you were there at the beginning," she looked again at Father Confotales and then continued.  “I was in the water.  I was unconscious.  I could have drowned.  You saved me.” 

            "Well, I told those cops, Larry and cvb, that Sandor, Sandor Navarro, had accused me of killing Father Jose, at The Basilica de Santa Maria.  And that Father Jose had wanted to . . . to do rude things to me," she sobbed. 

            "We went to the Basilica de Santa Maria, Larry, cvb and me, and Father Jose was there, and he was fine.  He was alive.  He denied knowing me, buying women and having been killed."

            Half laughing, half crying, she said, "I know that sound totally weird.  But he was very nice and seemed holy and Fatherly and religious and good and kind . . .  like Father Confortola seems.  Only he had . . . murciélagos."

            "You see them too?" Mica asked, jumping up.  "I thought I was the only one."

            "Yes, I do.  Sometimes, not very often.  But I did when we were at the Basilica de Santa Maria and I whispered to Larry, but he didn't know what I was talking about and looked at me like I was crazy.

            "So anyway, we left the Basilica and they took me to the hospital, because I had these bruises on my neck and shoulders.”  She pointed to the bruises (mention these earlier). “The doctor said I had been strangled and beaten and had evidence of rape and wanted to do a rape examination.  I'm sorry Father. They said I had been raped.  Or had had very rough consensual sex.

            "I denied having had sex.  I didn’t remember sex.  But they did a blood test and said I had alcohol, a date rape drug, and LSD in my system.  I told them the truth, which was that I did not remember taking anything.

            "They took semen samples from inside my vagina.  I'm sorry, Father." She looked down and a tear fell onto the counter of the breakfast nook. "They blindfolded me and took me to a safe house.  It was full of abused women and screaming kids and they wouldn't let me leave. 

            "Later, much later, they came back.  They had gone to get a semen sample from Father Jose, but he had left for a trip to Rome.  The secretary said he was alive and well when he left, but that his plane had already taken off.

            "Then, they went to see Sandor Navarro and he had gone on a trip to Argentina.  Larry and cvb said the hospital would freeze the semen samples for later comparison with any suspects. 

            "They blindfolded me again and took me home and left me there.  But they didn't come in.  They just dropped me off outside.  And my stuff had been ransacked and there was a skull and crossed bones scrawled on one of the pages of my biology notebook, left lying on the kitchen counter.  I was afraid to stay, and didn't know what to do.  I went to the beach, looking for you.  You'd helped me once; I thought you might help me again." 

            She started sobbing again.  "I don't know what to do, I'm afraid."

            Father Confortola brought over trays of huevos rancheros and a covered container of extra tortillas, a big bowl of guacamole, another big bowl of steaming refried beans and big glasses of orange juice and mugs of coffee.  Mica stared at all the food.  Sean started efficiently packing it away.

            "What is your relationship with Sandor Navarro?" asked Father Confortola.  "I did hear you mention Sandor Navarro, didn't I?"

            "He was my boyfriend.  I thought he was my boyfriend."  Felicia tasted the eggs, then pitched in with a ferocity that astonished Mica.

            "Whoa, whoa, easy does it girl," Father Confortola said, in a light tone.  "We have lots of chickens.  And lots of eggs.  No one needs to starve."

            Mica picked at her food.  It tasted good, and she too started eating with more enthusiasm than usual.

            "You could stay here, if you wanted," Father Confortola said.  "You'd be safe here."

            Felicia flinched, almost as if she'd been hit.

            "Or, you come with us.  We have room at my house," Mica said.  "If you don't mind a lot of other people."

            "Oh, thank you," Felicia said, "I'll go with you."

Huevos rancheros: The basic dish is composed of fried eggs served upon lightly fried corn tortillas topped with a tomato-chili sauce. Refried beans, Mexican-style rice, and slices of avocado or guacamole are common accompaniments.